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terrier mix in him; one of the few memories of Lincoln I had left.
    Lincoln had adopted Chance just before his death to rebel against his mother, and naturally I had taken him after Lincoln’s death. Halo was my weird looking dog, with a long body and a small head. I had only had him since last summer, but he was my buddy, always ready to please.
    I was starting to feel a little dizzy, so I slowed down as I tried to catch my breath. My chest was burning and I was definitely feeling lightheaded. Maybe I hadn’t eaten enough today.
    All of a sudden, Chance started whining and pulling on his leash as though he had spotted something familiar. I looked out across the street and froze.
    It was Lincoln’s old house, but that wasn’t what had made me freeze.
    A familiar figure was standing at the mailbox, staring at us. It was like seeing Lincoln aged by twenty-five years or so. It was Lincoln’s dad.
    From what I’d heard last, Lincoln’s dad was going to sell the house, but then what was he still doing here?
    “Hadie?” he called out to me.
    Chance let out another whine, louder this time, and began dragging me across the street towards Mr. Bracks. When we reached him, Chance continued to whine and wag at him like crazy, while Halo politely sniffed at the stranger’s feet.
    “Hey, there,” Mr. Bracks said, leaning down to pat both dogs before straightening up to give me a weak smile. “Hello, Hadie.”
    Chance was still hyped up and was now trying to pull me up the driveway, so I held on as tight as I could, at the same time wondering what to say to Lincoln’s dad. Running into him had caught me off guard. The wounds from losing Lincoln had barely healed, and it was hard to be confronted with someone so familiar to him.
    “Hi, Mr. Bracks,” I said, not sure where to look and glad that I had the dogs to focus on.
    “It’s nice to see you again,” he said, studying me with sad blue eyes that were so like Lincoln’s.
    “I-uh,” I struggled to find something to say. Even when Lincoln had been alive, I had never gotten close to his family, mainly because his mother and sister were the devil reincarnated. “Do you still live here?”
    He nodded, appearing relieved. Maybe because I hadn’t bolted at the same time as him. “Yes, I decided to stay.”
    “And Mrs. Bracks?” I asked, hoping she hadn’t decided to stay with her husband.
    Mr. Bracks’ face pinched up. “My wife and Becky will be staying in New York.”
    “Oh,” was all I could think to say.
    I could read between the lines. It was obvious Mr. and Mrs. Bracks had separated. I honestly didn’t know much about Mr. Bracks. He had always remained in the sidelines, letting his dominating wife control Lincoln in his dying days, but he didn’t seem like a bad guy. Unlike Mrs. Bracks who had hated me no obvious reason and prevented me from seeing Lincoln on his deathbed.
    “Anyway, it was nice to see you again, Hadie,” he said, sadness returning to his face. “Come by and visit sometime.”
    “Sure,” I said with a forced smile, although I doubted I would ever visit him. There were too many memories of Lincoln in that house I didn’t want to be around.
    Crossing the road, I began jogging back in the direction of my street, haunted by the ghost of a boy I was trying to leave behind. Seeing Lincoln’s dad had worsened my day and made me think of him when I should’ve been focusing on something else.
    I made it back to my house in record time, running straight to my room and pulling open the drawer to my bedside table. With shaky hands, I took out the one thing I had told myself I had to let go of.
    The letter Lincoln had written me before he’d died.
    With hungry eyes, I read over the two pages, cherishing each word as though it was new to me, despite having memorized everything about.
    Hadie,
    You promised me you wouldn’t cry, but I know you will. Do you know how I know? I know because you are the kindest, caring, most considerate person I have