“My son died when he was 12,” he said quietly. “Bike accident.
Nobody’s fault. I know what it feels like to stand where you’re standing.”
I flinched.
“And then you chose to put someone else here,” I said.
He shut his eyes for a second.
“I know,” he said. “I live with that every day.”
I stood there, shaking.
“I don’t want you near her,” I said finally.
“Not right now.”
He nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll stay away. If you ever change your mind… I’m at the noon meeting on Oak Street.
Every day.”
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