Isaiah watched me with wide eyes as I hauled him out of the recliner by his sweatshirt. And just like Piper had done with me so many times, I hugged him. I hugged the five-year-old boy who fell off his bike and scraped the shit out of his knee, all because he’d been trying to keep up with me and my friends as we’d peddled around the neighborhood. I hugged the ten-year-old kid who’d begged me to help him practice fielding grounders before a baseball game. I hugged my brother, the one who’d always looked at me like I was his Superman.
