“Matt told me he won’t ever get the chance to make things up with Jerry, but he said I could with you...” Martin kissed the side of Colin’s neck. “I’ve been spiteful, cold, distant, and…”
“I understand, baby, honest I do,” Colin said, rubbing Martin’s arm.
“Thanks. Matt also said you have to work on forgiving yourself, too. Colin, you have to. Toby’s death was an accident, pure and simple. You weren’t to blame, and I don’t blame you. Anyone—the postman, the woman collecting for the church jumble sale—could have left the gate open. I could have, shouldhave, put a spring on the gate to keep it closed.”
“Thanks. I hear what you’re saying, but Toby was very special to you. He was, well, he was your only friend before I came along.”
“Yes, but you came along, and I’ll always…” Martin swallowed. “I’ll always thank God that you did.”
“Me, too.”
Martin kissed the top of Colin’s head. “Your uncle also said something else.”