“That’s what Jefferson told me.” Goose looked to me and Shelby, not at Tate onscreen.
“Poor guy. Uncle Garret said it felt like he was going to die every day while over there. I mean, in a way, he lived like he was trapped in between the whole time he fought, judging by his stories. We only really got close after I was almost an adult, ya know? There were lots of stories over games of…”
“Checkers?”
“Checkers.”
“Maybe Davis thought Garret would be right behind him.” Rip took Shelby’s hand.
“So sad. They’re not together now?” she asked Goose.
He looked up into the oak tree that shaded the picnic table. “I don’t know, Shell.”
“Uncle Garret never came out or anything,” Tate said. “But the way he went on about this guy he played against, if I rerun some of those conversations in my head, there was affection there, for sure.”
I shivered. Even though we were in the shade outdoors, it was still hot.
“Davis?” Goose noticed.
“Maybe.”