“He wrote you a letter?” I nodded. “He left one for all of us, but I can’t read mine.” He frowned again, deeper this time. “Do you want…me to read it?” “I don’t think I want to know,” I choked out, feeling flighty. “I just…maybe if you read it, just to check?” Johnny didn’t hesitate. His fingers ripped open the envelope, and with a steady hand he held the piece of paper to his face, concentrating intently on whatever my father had written.
