I shift on the leather seat. “Well, Dennis did have an unusual presentation for a stroke, so that makes it a little tricky. They still confirmed that Dr. Groban acted carelessly and that he should’ve run more tests, but even if he had, they can’t guarantee there would’ve been a different outcome. We can’t predict what would’ve happened if things had been different, you know?”

His lips twitch, but he drops it.

It breaks my heart to see him like this. I know he’d do anything to get justice for his father, but that’s the thing about working in this field. True justice is never met. You can’t go back in time. The result of a trial or a settlement will never change the fact that the event happened. I would do anything to give him the chance to get his father back in the state he previously was, but no one can do that. Getting him legal justice is the only thing I can manage.

Ten minutes later, Aaron says, “Home sweet home,” as we pass the Entering Boston sign. The tension in his shoulders has mildly gone down, as if getting away from Sonder Hill gives him some kind of relief. In a way, with all the responsibilities he has there, I’m sure it does.

Behind us, Molly and Maybelle start to bark, like they can feel we’re close to home. I turn to them, then say, “Shh. We’re almost there.” Aaron has already driven us here just because he’s a gentleman. No need to annoy him with high-pitched barking on top of it.

“Wanna remind me of how to get to your place?” he asks me, a small smile on his lips, which unties a small knot in my chest. Yeah, he’s truly more himself when he looks happy.

I lead him through the city, and soon he’s parking in my spot in the back of my building. And because his manners know no bounds, he of course gets out of the car to help me get my bags out.

As soon as I open the back door, Molly jumps down, then starts running toward the front door of the building.

“Molly!” I shout. How in the world did I raise such a hellish dog?

“I got it,” Aaron answers, running toward her and grabbing her collar before she can do something crazy like run in front of a car.

I grab my bags from Aaron’s trunk, filling my arms. Picking Maybelle up is a challenge of its own. When I reach the front door, a weight is removed from my load before I can say anything.

“Come on, I’ll help you up,” Aaron says, a hand around Molly’s burgundy leather collar.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that.” It’s becoming embarrassing how many times he gets me out of trouble.