Chapter 77

And now this.

“I used to come home from college every summer just to see you,” Stephen tells me—doesn’t he know when to stop? Can’t he see my tears, the way his words are hurting me? “Even after you stopped coming, I kept hoping…I’d walk over here the first night, sit on the porch with your mom and Ray, ask them all about how you were and what you were doing. Any little part of you I could have, Michael. I clung to that. I thrived on it.”

A tear courses down my cheek and I wipe at it brusquely. “Stephen, please,” I sigh. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”