"You know those guys are still around, right?"
She doesn't answer.
Which tells me everything.
I try again.
"Toby still asks about you."
Tiny smile.
"Really?"
"Really."
"And Jamie?"
"Definitely Jamie."
"What about Liam?"
I laugh.
"Especially Liam."
That earns the smallest grin.
Progress, or so I think.
Then she asks: "What about Colby?"
And there it is, the real question, the one she's been circling all day, and the one hiding beneath family trees and hockey players and unusual silence.
I choose my words carefully, because suddenly every answer feels dangerous.
"Colby's still around."
She studies me.
Waiting. For more. For certainty. For promises.
Unfortunately, I don't have any.
The silence stretches, then she asks quietly: "But for how long?"
My heart drops. There it is. The thing she's been carrying. The thing she overheard. The thing she couldn't stop thinking about.
I force a smile.
A terrible mistake, because worried smiles never fool children.
"Nobody knows what's going to happen."
The moment the words leave my mouth, I want them back.
Immediately.
Because I watch her face fall. Just slightly. But enough.
