I wondered whether it was a mistake to tell him. What do I do? He asked it again and again, pleading.
“You keep going,” I told him. “You’ve got seven years. No matter what actually happened,
he’ll be legally alive for seven years, and you’ll have the house and everything.
That’s a long time to build a new life, Davis. Seven years ago, you and I hadn’t even met, you know?”
“We’ve got nobody now,” he mumbled. I wished I could tell him that he had me, that he could count on me, but he couldn’t.
“You have your brother,” I said. That made him split open again,
and we cuddled together for a long time, until Mom came home with the groceries.
Davis and I both jumped to a seating position, even though we hadn’t been doing anything.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Mom said. “I was just headed out,” Davis said.
“You don’t have to,” Mom and I said simultaneously. “I kinda do,” he said.
He leaned over and hugged me with one arm. “Thank you,” he whispered, although I wasn’t sure I’d done him any favors.
Davis stopped at the doorway for a second, looked back at Mom and me in what must have seemed to him like domestic bliss.
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