He flung his helmet to the ground three steps in front me. He threw his arms wide, like he was about to tackle me. He stutter-stepped, came to a sudden, reality-jerking stop a hairsbreadth from my face, and wrapped me into a bone-crushing hug. “Dad,” he shouted into my neck. “Dad…” The third time, it was a sob. He crumpled into me, weeping as he chanted, “Dad, Dad, Dad.” My lips moved against his sweat-drenched hair and his cheek as I repeated that I loved him, that I was proud of him, that he was amazing, perfect, and the best—the absolute best—thing that ever happened to me. I held him like
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