"Did she talk about me?"
"Sometimes."
"What did she say?"
Peter smiled faintly.
"That you were the best bad decision she ever made."
Mason laughed despite himself.
That sounded exactly like Leah.
Then Peter pointed toward the letters.
"Take them."
Mason shook his head.
"I don't know if I can read them."
"You don't have to today."
"Why tell Daniel now?"
Peter's expression changed.
"Because I'm dying."
"That's obvious."
"And because Daniel found the photograph."
Mason looked up.
"He found it?"
"Two months ago."
"Where?"
"Leah's old cedar chest."
"So he already suspected."
"He thought it might mean nothing."
Peter swallowed.
"Then he asked me."
"And you told him."
"Eventually."
"Eventually?"
"He asked me three times."
Mason almost became angry.
Then he looked at the dying man in front of him.
A man who had spent twenty-two years loving Mason's child.
He let the anger go.
Peter watched him carefully.
"You think I stole something from you."
Mason was silent.
"Maybe I did."
"No."
Peter looked surprised.
Mason shook his head.
"I wasn't there."
"You didn't know."
"I still wasn't there."
Peter's eyes softened.
Mason looked toward the hallway.
"You gave him a father."
Peter smiled.
"Best job I ever had."
Mason's throat tightened.
Peter reached toward the bedside cabinet again.
"There's one more thing."
Inside was a small wooden box.
Mason opened it.
A silver ring lay inside.
His ring.
The one he had bought for Leah twenty-three years earlier.
"I never gave her that."
"No."
"Then how—"
"Your sister found it after you went away."
Mason stared.
"Leah knew?"
"Eventually."
Peter smiled weakly.
"Turns out she learned you were a terrible liar about more than one thing."
Mason picked up the ring.
For the first time since arriving, he cried.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Tears simply fell onto his hands.
Peter looked away, granting him privacy without leaving.
After a while, Mason whispered, "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For being twenty-two years late."
Peter shook his head.
"Don't apologize to me."
"Daniel won't want me."
"Maybe not."
Mason looked up.
Peter continued.
"That's his right."
"I know."
"But if he does let you into his life..."
Peter struggled for breath.
Mason leaned forward.
Peter finished.
"Don't try to replace me."
Mason gripped the ring.
"I wouldn't."
"Good."
Peter smiled.
"Because you'd be terrible at my job."
Mason laughed through the tears.
From the hallway came Daniel's voice.
"Still alive?"
Peter shouted weakly.
"Unfortunately!"
For the first time since seeing the photograph, Mason understood why Daniel loved this man.
And for the first time, he understood that becoming part of his son's life would begin not by claiming a place.
But by respecting the place another man had already earned.
Mason remained in Fort Collins that night.
He did not sleep.
Claire gave him the small guest room across the hall from Peter.
Daniel slept downstairs on the couch because he wanted to hear if his father called out.
Around midnight, Mason opened Leah's first letter.
Dear Mason,
I don't know whether you want to hear from me, but I'm writing anyway because I'm angry enough not to care.
You lied to me.
Mason stopped.
Even after two decades, he could hear her voice.
He kept reading.
The letter had been written three weeks after his sentencing.
Leah told him she was pregnant.
She told him she hated what he had said to her.
She told him she did not believe their entire relationship had been meaningless.
She told him he deserved the chance to decide whether he wanted to know his child.
The final line nearly crushed him.
You don't get to choose for both of us just because you're scared.
Mason lowered the page.
She had understood him better than he understood himself.
He opened another.
Four months pregnant.
Then six.
Then one written after Daniel was born.
There was no photograph.
Only a description.
He has dark hair. He hates sleeping unless somebody walks around holding him. His left ear sticks out a little and I'm blaming you even though I don't remember what your ears look like.
Mason touched his own ear.
He laughed once.
Then covered his face.
Seven letters followed Daniel's first year.
The final one was different.
Leah had learned Mason's mother had deliberately blocked the correspondence.
She sounded exhausted.
Not angry anymore.
I spent a long time wanting you to come through the door.
Now I don't know what I'd do if you did.
Peter has been helping me. Before you get jealous, don't. He's kind and patient and Daniel adores him.
I think maybe that's what scares me.
Life keeps moving even when part of you doesn't want it to.
Mason did not finish the letters until nearly dawn.
At six, he went downstairs.
Daniel was awake.
He sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee.
The house was silent.
Mason took the chair opposite him.
Daniel looked at the bundle of letters.
"You read them."
"Yeah."
"What did she say?"
Mason studied him.
"Did you never read them?"
Daniel shook his head.
"Dad said they weren't mine."
Mason's respect for Peter grew again.
He could have used those letters to shape Daniel's opinion.
He hadn't.
Mason pushed them gently aside.
"She loved you."
Daniel smiled sadly.
"I knew that part."
"She talked about you constantly."
"Anything embarrassing?"
"You apparently screamed whenever anyone put socks on you."
Daniel looked offended.
"I still hate socks."
Mason laughed.
The sound surprised both of them.
Daniel drank his coffee.
Then asked, "Why did you leave her?"
Mason considered lying.
Not because Daniel couldn't handle the truth.
Because Mason hated the truth about himself.
"I was going to prison."
"I know."
"I thought ruining her opinion of me would make it easier."
Daniel stared.
"That's incredibly stupid."
"Yes."
"You could've just told her why."
"Yes."
"Instead you told her you didn't love her."
"Yes."
Daniel shook his head.
"You're an idiot."
"So I've been told."
"My mother cried because of you."
Mason looked at the table.
"I know."
"No. You read letters. That's different."
Daniel's anger grew.
"She spent years wondering whether you meant what you said."
Mason did not defend himself.
Daniel stood.
"You don't get points because your mother hid the letters."
"I know."
"She shouldn't have done that. But you created the situation."
"I know."
Daniel stopped.
He had clearly expected resistance.
Mason gave him none.
"What do you want me to say?" Mason asked.
"I don't know."
"If you want me to say I had a good reason, I didn't."
Daniel looked away.
"I was scared. I was ashamed. And I thought making decisions for Leah was the same thing as protecting her."
Mason touched the envelope.
"I was wrong."
Daniel sat again.
For a while they listened to the refrigerator hum.
Finally Daniel asked, "Why'd you go to prison?"
Mason told him.
Not every detail.
Enough.
Kyle.
The stolen vehicles.
The warehouse.
The choice to take responsibility.
Daniel frowned.
"You sacrificed four years for your brother."
"Yes."
"But you sacrificed Mom without asking her."
Mason stared at him.
Daniel's words landed harder than anything else.
"Yeah."
Mason nodded slowly.
"That's exactly what I did."
Around eight, Peter woke.
He wanted pancakes.
Claire refused.
Peter became offended.
"I'm terminally ill."
"Your pancreas doesn't care about pancakes."
"My pancreas has made its position clear."
Daniel made pancakes.
Peter ate half of one.
Mason watched father and son argue over syrup.
There was a language between them.
Shared jokes.
Tiny gestures.
Twenty-two years of familiarity.
Mason did not envy it.
Not exactly.
He mourned what he had missed.
But the more he watched, the more grateful he became that Daniel had not grown up without it.
Later, Peter asked to sit outside.
Daniel and Mason helped him onto the porch.
For nearly an hour, the three men sat together.
Peter looked at Daniel.
"You mad at me?"
Daniel stared at the yard.
"Yes."
"Good."
"You're happy I'm mad?"
"No. I'm happy you're saying it."
Daniel's jaw tightened.
"You should've told me sooner."
"Yes."
"How much sooner?"
Peter considered.
"Eighteen?"
"I was twenty-two when you told me."
"I know."
"Why wait?"
Peter rested his head against the chair.
"Because every birthday I thought, one more year."