I feel like he can see through my lies, like he knows I spent the night with his daughter, and only left her an hour or two ago.

“Oh, thanks, Nate. Yeah, her mother will come with her. I wanted to get here early,” he pauses, and it’s strange.

“Oh, more tips for my game? You know, your daughter has had a few things to say about my swing,” I laugh, trying my damnedest to lighten what is quickly become a very serious mood. Tom laughs in response, but it’s a forced one, and I can tell his mind is elsewhere.

“No, actually…I was hoping to catch you before your game,” he says, his eyes focusing somewhere over my shoulder until he takes in a sharp breath and looks me right in the eyes. “How much do you know…about Rowe?”

“I know enough, sir,” I respond quickly, and I realize my reaction at first sounds a bit defensive, so I add to it. “I mean…she told me…about what happened, the shooting.”

Tom nods, his eyes full of this un-maskable sadness. “Did she tell you about her best friend? Betsy?”

“Yes,” I say, my stomach heavy.

“And…Josh?”

“Yes,” I say, looking down—out of respect. When I look back up, his gaze is once again distant. But I know he has more to say. It’s like he’s stuck—and the longer we stand here in silence, the more the pressure of…of whatever it is he needs to tell me eats away at us both. “Sir, what’s going on?”

His eyes close when I ask, and when he opens them again, looking at me, they’re red from his efforts not to cry.

“She’s different here. Rowe?” he says, and all I can do is nod in return. “She’s…better. God Nate, you have no idea how scared Karen and I were, how afraid we were that Rowe would never…ever…get better. She was like a zombie that first year. You know, she didn’t even talk for the first six months.”

I wasn’t aware of that, but I don’t say a word. What Rowe wants me to know and what her father wants me to know need to exist in two separate boxes. And I need to be strong enough to keep them apart.

“Therapy every day. And for the first year, we couldn’t get her out of the house. Then one day, she asked us if she could go visit Josh. So we drove her there, just happy she wanted to get out of the damned house, you know?”

He’s crying now, and seeing this man—six-foot-plus and in his late forties—cry, has me wanting to as well. But I don’t. I take in a deep breath, and nod, needing him to continue.

“She sat in their kitchen, rooms away from him, not wanting to actually see him, but just wanting to see where he was. Be near his family. Josh couldn’t hear her anyhow. He couldn’t talk or open his eyes. He was just lying there with tubes and machines and a live-in nurse that the state paid for as part of a settlement for his parents. Ha! Like that’s supposed to somehow make it better. They were at school, Nate! That’s supposed to be the safest place in the goddamned world!”

I let him pause for a minute and breathe. I can’t even imagine what it must be like to be a parent in his situation, let alone Josh’s parents.

“I’m sorry. I just get so damned angry when I think about it.”

“I understand,” I say, not wanting to interrupt more.

“Anyway, we drove her. And then she wanted to go again the next day. So we drove her again. Every day, for six months, we drove her to Josh’s parents house, and she sat in their living room and kitchen, talking to Josh’s mom, or just reading. Sometimes she just went over there to do her homework. And then one day, she didn’t want to go any more. She said she felt stuck, and then she had this awful panic attack where she couldn’t breathe, and she started vomiting. We told her therapist.”

“Ross,” I say, having heard Rowe mention him before.

“Right, I’m glad she’s talked about him. Well, we told Ross, and he said that Rowe was trying to grow up, move on. But she had guilt. So Ross talked to her about college. We talked to her about college. And every day we talked about college a little more. And then she shocked the hell out of Karen and me, picking McConnell. But we wanted her to go, and the distance…frankly, the distance was a blessing. She needed that distance, Nate. She still needs it.”

“This weekend, we see glimpses of our little girl. She’s living. And I know it’s not just because of you. I give her more credit than that. But Nate, I have to thank you, because I know you’re a big part of it,” he says.

“I love her, sir,” I say, just needing him to understand how deep my feelings really are. I don’t want him thinking that I am just with Rowe because of her situation, because I feel guilty, or that I’m taking advantage.