When I open my eyes, Luke is staring at me with a thoughtful expression on his face. “What did you wish for?” I ask him, needing something lighthearted. Thinking it will be something ridiculous. Something frivolous. Instead, he delivers a gut punch. One soft cheek hitches up, and he glances back down into the dark well. “I wished for Willa to come back.” My eyes burn when I pull him into me, feel his tiny arms clutching at my waist. And my voice cracks when I say, “Me too, pal. Me too.”
