“Me either, but sometimes people do things that don’t make sense. They love us when we don’t deserve it or give an old drunk thoughtful gifts to keep him occupied, maybe hoping he’ll drink a little less.” My chest tightens. “I didn’t know.” “I figured as much. She isn’t the type to want credit for doing something nice and she probably thought there was a chance you wouldn’t approve.” “Do you read them?” I ask, still stuck on the idea that Everly, who only met my dad once, has been sending him books like they’re old friends. “Oh yeah. I read them and send them back, adding my own notes in the
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