“Nah, it’s no big deal.”

“But it is,” I groaned, looking around. “This is gonna cost us a lot of money in repairs. Of course, he’ll never even know the damage he caused.”

“He needs help, man—like real help, or one day he’s gonna end up…” Alex’s voice faded away, but I knew what he was hinting at—dead.

My greatest fear was getting that call, someone delivering the news that my father was dead, and with every day that passed, the fear seemed more valid.

I helped Alex straighten up the shop the best I could, but then I told him to call it a day and we’d get back to it tomorrow. He headed out, and I went over to Dad’s front porch. I sat on the top step, listening closely to make sure he wasn’t making too much of a fuss inside. I stayed there for minutes, hours, and the only time I moved was to go check on him in the bedroom to make sure he was still breathing.

Then I’d return to my spot on the porch where I’d probably end up spending the night. I couldn’t go back to my cabin out of fear of what I’d wake up to come morning.

“Jackson?” a small voice said, making me look up from my hands, which I’d been staring at for the past few minutes. Grace was standing there, giving me a soft grin.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I wanted to check in…I know you said not to, but I waited a while and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

I took a deep breath. “I’m fine. I’m always fine.”

She grimaced. “Can I sit with you?”

“If you want to.”

She walked up the stairs and sat directly beside me. She didn’t say anything at first. Maybe she didn’t know what to say, or maybe she felt as if I just needed silence for a while. Having her sit there felt weird, like a comfort I hadn’t even known I wanted.

“I hate apples unless they’re cut into slices,” she finally said, making me tilt my head in her direction. “I know magic isn’t real, but whenever I see a good magic trick, I feel totally shocked. I suck at playing Uno, but I’ll destroy you at Monopoly.”

“Random facts?” I asked her.

She nodded. “To make you more comfortable.”

Each moment, I liked her more. I took a breath. “I love hip-hop and country music in equal amounts. I sing in the shower. I eat Mexican food at least three times a week, and sometimes when I have a bad day, I sing ‘Tubthumping’ by Chumbawamba.”

She inhaled. “I can’t whistle.”

“I can’t snap.”

“I cried during every Marvel movie,” she whispered.

“I still tear up at The Lion King.”

She smiled the kind of smile that could make even the saddest person feel better. “I think you’re a good person.”

“I think you’re a better one,” I replied. I swallowed hard and looked down at my hands. “And I think my life is easier when you’re around.”

“Oh.” She said softly, tilting her head toward me. “So I guess that’s a mutual thing. More facts?”

“Real ones or stupid ones?”

“Real is good,” she replied. “I like real. I just didn’t know if you liked to share that kind of stuff.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay, then share whatever you want.”

I took a deep breath and felt her arm lightly brush against mine, but I didn’t say a word. There was an extended moment of silence before I built up the nerve to speak again. It was as if my brain was debating how real I wanted to get with her. We’d pretty much skated the surface of truths without ever really digging into them.

“Tucker was the last gift my mother ever gave me,” I confessed. “She gave him to me a few weeks before she decided to leave my father and start her life with another man. I remember it like it was yesterday. My parents didn’t let me have pets when I was little, said I was too young, but when I turned ten, they said I could get a dog. I think it was because I was bullied so badly and had no friends. They felt bad for how lonely I was as a kid. Then a few weeks later, she was packing her bags to leave.”

“How did you find out she was going?”

“I saw my parents fighting in the living room. They fought for what felt like forever until Dad was just exhausted. I remember the defeat in his eyes. I think that was the exact moment he realized she was never going to be his again. She had chosen someone else, and he had a hard time with that. She was his everything—our everything—but, well, just because someone’s your everything doesn’t mean you’re theirs. I’d begged her to stay. I literally threw myself at my mother and sobbed, pleading for her not to run away. My father had left the room because it was just too much for him. He’d checked out, I think. He’d already given up, and his heart was already so bruised, but I was just a kid. All I knew was that I wanted my mom to stay with me. I sobbed against her, pulling on her clothes, clawing at her, and she kept promising me it wasn’t forever, that she would never leave me and we’d find a new normal. You know the last thing she said to me?”