“How are you holding up?” I asked him.

“I’ll probably do a year in a federal camp,” Aaron said.

He took a sip of his black coffee.

“But I sleep better now,” he added. “For the first time in five years.”

“I’m glad you spoke up, Aaron,” I said.

“I should have done it sooner,” he said. “Before those boys died.”

We didn’t talk much after that.

He got up, shook my hand, and walked away into the gray afternoon.

Ethan moved his things into my spare bedroom.

He spent his days looking for a new job, away from the government relations sector.

One evening, we sat on my small balcony, looking out at the lights of the city.

“I saw Cassandra yesterday,” Ethan said.

I looked at him. “Where?”

“She was outside the courthouse,” he said. “Her father was being arraigned.”

“Did you speak to her?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “She looked at me, and then she turned away.”

He stared down at his hands.

“She looked so different, Grace. No makeup. Just tired.”

“It’s a heavy thing to carry,” I said.