Leo almost smiled.
That felt like progress.
By Sunday, though, I still couldn’t stop thinking about the watch.
Leo and I were looking through old photo albums because he had asked whether my hair had always been curly.
“No,” I said. “At your age, I looked like an electrocuted dandelion.”
He laughed.
Then I turned the page.
There was a photograph of Dad standing beside me at a barbecue.
He must have been around fifty.
Leo immediately stopped laughing.
He touched the photograph with one finger.
“He looked younger there.”
My body went completely still.
I forced my voice to remain calm.
“You’ve seen him older?”
Leo pulled his hand back.
“What?”
“You said he looked younger there.”
“I don’t know.”
“Leo.”
“I just meant he looks young.”
I stared at him.
“You knew him, didn’t you?”
He looked down at the album.
“I’m not angry,” I said softly.
His jaw tightened.
“Was Daniel the person who gave you the watch?”
Finally, he nodded.
My heart began pounding.
“Did he visit you?”
“Sometimes.”
“What did you do together?”
“He brought me books.”
Leo hesitated.
“Once he bought me sneakers. Sometimes we got burgers.”
“Did he ever tell you who he was?”
Leo shook his head.
“What did you call him?”
“Daniel.”
Just Daniel.
Not Grandpa.
Not Uncle.
Nothing.
“He said the watch was important,” Leo added.
“Why?”
“He said I should keep it safe. And someday I might understand why.”
At first, I thought Dad had been talking about the watch.
I was wrong.
That night, I told Ethan everything.
