I looked at the photograph.
For months, I had wondered whether Jack had been as hopeful as he appeared. I had replayed conversations, searching for signs I might have missed.
“Was he afraid?” I asked.
Theo took his time answering.
“Yes.”
The word hurt.
“Very afraid?”
“Sometimes. Especially when the doctors changed the treatment plan. But he wasn’t scared every minute.”
I wiped my cheek.
“Thank you for telling me the truth.”
Theo nodded.
“I promised him I wouldn’t lie to you.”
I looked at him.
“Even when the truth hurts?”
“Especially then.”
I reached for his hand.
“I’m glad you came today.”
He looked down at our hands.
“I almost didn’t.”
“Why?”
“My dad said people would talk. My mom worried you might think I was trying to make a statement. Emma said I was out of my mind.”
I smiled faintly.
“And what did you think?”
Theo looked toward the coffin.
