When Ben turns to me, his expression makes me want to cry. His smile is laced with a deep pain. It’s in the shine of his eyes and the twitch of his cheek muscle. The way his jaw clenches down after he’s done speaking.

When did I get to the point where I could read his face so well?

“Sounds perfect to me.”

Ben traces his eyes over me, but I don’t get heat this time. Instead, it feels like an embrace. Comfort.

“He would’ve liked you. He was a no-nonsense kind of guy. Gruff and stubborn but caring. You remind me of him sometimes.”

“You think I’m gruff?” I pretend to scowl.

Softness replaces some of the tension in his face, and the curve of his lips loses its forced nature.

“Maybe. After all those years of legal jargon and double talk and working with loopholes, I think he got tired of it. When he retired, he was all about being straightforward. No lying. Not putting up with liars and idiots. And you … you’re just like that. So, yeah, I think the two of you would have gotten along.”

“I wish I could’ve met him.”

In my mind, Grandpa Gerhard looks like Ben’s father but with a few extra wrinkles in his face and a shock of white hair. I imagine him sitting in the bedroom I slept in, expression serious as he works on creating a beautiful painting of a mother deer and her baby. Then, I see him sitting on the couch with a little boy whose light-red hair curls around his ears and the edges of his glasses. In a deep voice, the man reads classic adventure stories to his adorable grandson before taking an old movie off the shelf and sliding it into the outdated VCR.

That’s a man I would’ve loved to know.

So, why didn’t I get the chance? What made him take his own life?

No matter how curious I am, I won’t make Ben confront the pain of his past if he doesn’t want to.

Still, it’s like he reads the questions on my face because he goes ahead and answers them. “Grandpa was never the type to do what he was told. Always went his own way.” His mouth quirks in a half-smile, half-grimace. “Even though he quit, the smoking still got to him. Lung cancer. Past the stage where much could be done. Doctors told him to move closer to a hospital. Start chemo treatments.”

Ben glares at the table. Without thinking about it, I reach out for his hand, twining our fingers together. He returns my grip but still keeps his eyes down.

“What happened?” Silly question, as I already know the answer.

He’s quiet for a bit before continuing, “My parents were planning on him moving in with them. Arranged everything, so he’d be as comfortable as possible. A few days before they were set to get him, we got a call from the police in the area that he’d been found about a mile from here. Sitting in the forest.” A deep sigh echoes his pain. “When you have a lot of money like Grandpa did, you can get pretty much anything you want. Including a bottle of pills. They said it wasn’t painful. Just like he went to sleep.”