Graham shook his head.
“I’m not a charity case.”
“Trade,” I said again. “You fix my busted cabinet and tell me another story. Deal?”
He glanced down at Mooney, who wagged his tail once like he was casting a vote.
“Your dog’s siding with you,” Graham said.
“He outranks both of us,” I replied.
He shook his head slowly.
“Okay,” he said. “One night.”
At my apartment, Graham hesitated in the doorway like he didn’t belong inside.
“Shoes off,” I told him. “Only rule.”
He obeyed.
Mooney hopped onto the couch beside him.
Graham took a long shower. When he came out wearing borrowed sweatpants and a T-shirt, he looked exhausted—but lighter.
He sat down on the couch. Mooney rested his head on Graham’s knee with a satisfied sigh.
The envelope still sat on the counter.
I opened it with shaking hands.
Inside was a single page.
Caleb,
If you’re reading this, I didn’t make it home.
You’ll say you don’t need anyone. You do.
Stop blaming yourself. I know you are.
You can’t carry everything. I know you’ll try anyway.
My dad is stubborn. He’ll say he doesn’t need anyone. He does.
You’re stubborn too. You’ll say you don’t need anyone. You do.
So if I’m gone, you and my dad are stuck with each other.
He knew me before I was a soldier. You knew me after. Together you’ve got the full picture.
