“Tell me about him.” Where to start? “He was great, read me bedtime stories, taught me to ride a bike, all the usual Dad stuff. He was always there,” I said. “Until he wasn’t. It’s not his fault, but sometimes the world just doesn’t even feel real without him, you know?” I looked back at Jonas. “Sometimes I think I’m the one who stopped living.” “Jesus, Quinn.” I bit my bottom lip. “Sorry.” He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. Just live.” “How do I do that?” “One moment at a time.”
