Physically, Harley’s better. Her collar bone and her ribs are healed, her leg reduced to a boot rather than the bulky cast that kept her relegated to a wheelchair. But this Harley defied her father—something my Harley never would have done.
She’s different, but there are sparks of the old Harley.
She finishes the mural she began months and months ago at the community center my friend, Margaret, is opening. Too bad she doesn’t remember planning it out, sketching it in our bed in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep. But I’m glad she doesn’t remember why we weren’t together the morning of her accident.
Will Harley ever come back to me? The old Harley? I don’t honestly know. But I’m glad to have this second chance, even if nothing will ever be the same again.
Cliffhanger ending. This is part two of a three part serial.