He paces and lets out another laugh. This time, it sounds a little unhinged. “You gotta be joking.” Faster than the lightning streaks across the sky, he turns his back to me and jogs down the steps. “How did . . .” He swipes a hand through his hair and glances around the soggy front yard. “How come . . .” Those usually happy eyes swim with devastation when he turns his gaze back on me. “When did you . . .” “Two weeks or so after. I tried contacting you so many times. I don’t know . . .” His forearm flexes as he wipes his hand over his mouth. “No.” He laughs, but it borders on a sob. “You’re
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