Then he said, softer, “Please.”
So I stood.
Then he handed me a folded letter.
By the time I got to the stage, my face was burning. Jack met me near the podium and took my hand for a second.
Into the microphone, he said, “I asked the school if I could use part of my speech for this. They said yes. I know my mom hates being put on the spot, and she is probably furious already, but I need to do this while standing in the place she paid to get me to.”
That line hit me before I even understood it.
Then he handed me a folded letter.
My hands started shaking the moment I saw the handwriting.
The word landed and passed through me in the same second.
It was Evan’s.
Jack leaned in and spoke so only I could hear. “You do not have to read it. I can.”
I looked up at him. “What is this?”
“He left it with Aunt Sara before he died. He died two months ago. I never thought I’d regret telling him I never want to see him again,” Jack said quietly. “She gave it to me last month. She said he made her promise not to hand it over until the time was right. And only to me, because you would never listen to anything he had to say.”
Di.ed.
I opened the letter.
The word landed and passed through me in the same second. There was no room for it yet.
