Jamar twisted around at the sound of Andrea’s voice. She stood several yards behind him; the carpet of mowed grass must have silenced her footsteps. She held a cellophane-wrapped bouquet in one hand and a package of Chips Ahoy! cookies in the other.

Jamar pointed to them. “His favorite.”

“Yep,” she said with a sad smile. “He ate five every night with a glass of milk.”

“With ice in it,” Jamar said.

“With ice.” She chuckled. She examined the blue package as if someone else had put it in her hand. “I used to come here once a month and eat cookies while I talk to him, but I haven’t been here since his birthday back in July. I hadn’t even realized it had been that long until this morning.”

She traveled the rest of the way to the gravesite and set the unopened cookies on top of the slab.

“I can move these,” Jamar said, reaching for the dozen white roses he’d placed in the stone vase built on top of the headstone.

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just lay these here. The roses are nice.”

Jamar swallowed and nodded. He stared at the flowers, because he didn’t know where else to look. The guilt that stuck to him like a second skin intensified. Acknowledging the misery he’d caused Silas’s family ate at his gut.

“When did you get to town?” Drea asked.

“Just before noon,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to make the trip. I hadn’t planned on it. You know I don’t really like coming to this graveyard.”

“I know,” she said. “But I’m happy you did. The anniversaries are never easy.” She tipped her head to the side and peered up at him. “So what’s this I hear about you holding some event for NFL scouts tomorrow?”

He frowned. “You know about that?”

“I don’t live under a rock,” she said. “It’s all anyone is talking about. The local newscast ran a story during their sports segment, and at least twenty people sent me the link to your agent’s tweet when he announced that you would be doing this virtual workout because you’re thinking of playing again.”

Jamar rubbed the back of his neck. “If I tell you something, do you promise to keep it to yourself until tomorrow?”

Drea nodded.

“I’m not doing this so that I can get on anyone’s team. I won’t give any of them the opportunity to even make an offer.”

“Why not?”

“Because the chances of me getting through even a single NFL season without injuring myself are slim to none,” he admitted. The words tasted like acid on his tongue.

“So why are you going through with the workout at all?”