because Brett said, “I think that was my dad. And that woman wasn’t my mom.” Oh. Oh. “But I— You said your dad was in Ohio.” As soon as I said it, I realized how dumb it was. And then everything sort of clicked into place, a puzzle neither of us wanted to solve. “I thought he was,” Brett whispered. I reached for him—his hand, his arm, anything. I latched on. Tight. I knew what it felt like to drown without water. It was worse when no one was there to bring you back to shore.
