Lia: Lynn

“I know,” she said. But they both knew she didn’t believe it.

“You don’t have to fix everything,” Sam told her once, his hand on her shoulder. Lia Lynn

At eighteen, she left the mountain town for the city, carrying a single duffel bag and a scholarship to a state university. She majored in accounting, not because she loved numbers, but because she craved the order they represented. Debits and credits made sense. They balanced. Her childhood never had. “I know,” she said