“Your brother was one of us,” his father whispered hoarsely against his temple, “but he wasn’t the best of us. We’re still a family, Lane. We’re yours, and you’re ours, and we’ll be waiting for you whenever you’re ready to come home.” Lane swayed, pressing his forehead against the soggy cotton of his father’s shoulder. He covered his eyes with one hand. The dry sob that ripped from his chest felt like it took his heart with it. He shook and gasped in his father’s arms, and there beside that quiet grave, he finally let go of the pain that had been festering inside him for so long. He finally
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