I look back at the image. Dylan looks like a shell of his former self.

“He’ll be getting hell in there.”

A lump forms in my throat as her words register. “I thought they kept them separated?”

“They will, darling. Once he gets sentenced.”

“They could still drop the death penalty and pursue a hefty sentence.”

“They could,” she agrees, taking one final suck on her cancer stick before crushing it under her heel. “But they won’t.”

My throat thickens even more, and I set off walking before I do something stupid like cry in front of a stranger. How is Dylan holding up in prison, knowing he might never get out? He had his whole world ahead of him, but now…

“Willow,” a deep voice calls out behind me, and I turn. Grayson is walking toward me with two grocery bags in his hands.

My eyes widen and I motion at him with my hand. “You’re outside in the sunshine.”

He lifts his bags slightly. “A man’s got to eat.”

“I like your clothes,” I blurt because it’s true. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in anything other than creased T-shirts and sweatpants in weeks.

Grayson looks down at his jeans and his ironed, navy-blue shirt beneath his unzipped, black winter coat. The first top two buttons are undone, revealing a hint of chest. “Well, the T-shirt I wore this morning had a tomato stain. I decided it was time to shower and shave.”

I’m smiling up at him. “I’m happy for you.”

His lips twitch before he seems to catch himself. He lifts the bags again. “I figured it’s my turn to cook for you.”

“Yeah?” Something flutters in my belly.

“I can’t let you do all the cooking.”

“What did you have in mind?” I want to keep him talking. I don’t know if it’s the winter sunshine or what, but he seems brighter today.

“It’ll be a surprise for later. If I tell you, and you say you don’t like it—well, I’m not going back to the grocery store. Once is enough for today.

“Okay.” My smile is soft.

Grayson half turns. “Want to come back to my house now or swing by later?”

I have no other plans, so I fall in step with him. We walk in silence, but it’s comfortable silence. It’s the kind I could bask in forever. It’s a space where thoughts are allowed to coexist in peace.

“How’s school?”

We cross the road. It’s a short walk to our street from here.

“It’s school, you know? Ever since Chloe disappeared, I haven’t been able to focus.”

“You shouldn’t fall behind.”

“I know,” I reply, my arm brushing up against his. “I guess I struggle to see the importance now that I know how fragile life is. Chloe is gone, and I’m somehow supposed to care about calculus?”

“I get it.” I like that Grayson talks to me like I’m an adult, not a child his daughter’s age. “I have to return to work soon, and I lie awake at night, wondering how the fuck I’m supposed to move on.”