Her last words, before the cancer took her voice, were: “I wish I had a daddy like you.” They were whispered to Big John—a 300-pound Harley rider with teardrop tattoos and hands like baseball mitts—who had stumbled into Room 117 by accident, just looking for a bathroom. Not just for Katie, the seven-year-old girl left behind by parents too broken to watch her die…But for every tough, tattooed biker who would spend the next ninety-three days making sure she never felt alone again. Big John had been visiting his own dying brother that day, pacing the halls of Saint Mary’s...
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