“This is why,” he says. “I didn’t have any other way to play the tapes and CDs, and not playing them wasn’t an option for me. For years, I’ve taken this fucking boombox everywhere with me. Held on to it, like if I could keep rewinding and replaying these moments we had, then maybe it wasn’t over.” He pulls a random cassette tape out of the box, running his thumb over the inked heart. “I don’t want it to be over, Hallie.”
