“I tell him about his dad.”
She reached for her phone.
“I have pictures.”
My throat tightened.
“Pictures?”
“Of Caleb. Of us. Some from school.”
She opened a folder and handed me the phone.
There was Caleb at 18, grinning into the camera.
There was Sadie beside him.
Then there was Beau.
The same grin.
The same crooked eyebrow.
I covered my mouth.
“Oh, Caleb.”
Sadie began crying again.
“I’m sorry.”
I handed the phone back.
“How does Jasper fit into this?”
For the first time, she almost smiled.
“Jasper was Caleb’s.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Not officially. Caleb found him behind the grocery store the summer before his senior year.”
A memory suddenly surfaced.
Caleb coming home late several evenings that summer.
Dog food disappearing from our garage.
I had assumed he was feeding a neighbor’s pet.
Sadie continued.
“He kept Jasper behind my parents’ shed for weeks. Then my dad finally let me keep him.”
