“Hannah,” Douglas said softly.
“My father was the gentlest man I knew.”
“I remember him.”
“He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“I never said he did.”
“Then what are you implying?”
“Nothing.”
Douglas struggled to sit higher.
Lucas immediately adjusted the bed.
I felt guilty the second I saw the effort it cost him.
He caught me looking.
“Still stubborn,” he whispered.
“So are you.”
“Good.”
Lucas poured water into a paper cup.
Douglas took only a tiny sip.
Then he looked at me.
“Your father helped me once.”
“What?”
“When we were nineteen.”
I frowned.
“The summer before college.”
He breathed slowly.
“I went to him because I wanted to ask whether he thought I should tell you how I felt.”
My throat tightened.
“You asked my father?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Douglas smiled.
“He told me I was an idiot.”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
