After dinner, Chris and the girls clear away the dishes while my sister and I finish the last of the wine. Throughout the meal, I told her what I knew of Greg Boucher, and Tyler chimed in a time or two, as well. The moment the others are out of earshot, Dawn gives me a frank look and says, “So you like him.”
“I don’t even know him,” I counter.
She sips at her glass of wine. “He’s all you talked about at dinner. Sounds to me like you want to know him.”
I sigh and reach for the wine bottle. There’s barely a swig left. “He seems like a nice guy—”
“And it seems to me like you’re interested,” Dawn says.
I stare into my glass and stay silent.
Beneath the table, her foot nudges mine. “Hmm? It’s been four years since the accident, Jason.”
“I know.” I do—I don’t need her to remind me.
“Do y
