“So you chose Diane.”
“Yes,” he said. Plainly. No excuses. “I chose my wife. And I chose quiet. And I sat at the top of the bleachers like a coward and watched my son play baseball for six years because it was the closest I could let myself get.”
The neighbor’s lawnmower stopped. The street was suddenly very quiet.
“And the kids,” I said. My voice came out strange. “Harper and Wyatt. Best friends. Inseparable. Since they were six. You knew what they were to each other. And you let it go on.”
His jaw tightened.
“That’s why I watched him,” he said. “At the bus stop. At the school plays. Every time they sat together. I was watching for anything. Any sign that it was turning into something else as they got older. I told Diane the minute I saw anything like that, we’d tell you everything that same day. No matter what it cost.”
