“This is Tristan,” Harrison says to the tombstone. I smile and dip my head in a greeting. “Mr. Anderson.” Harrison looks at me for a moment and then touches the tombstone. “You can touch it.” He pats it, as if to entice me. He wants me to shake hands with his dad. I walk over and put my hand on the top of the cold hard stone. Goose bumps scatter up my arms, and a weird emotion overwhelms me. In some strange way, I feel like this is the changing of the guard. The family he loved . . . is now with me. In my care, for me to love. “Nice to meet you, Wade,” I whisper.
