I looked up at Sawyer, serving a couple of guys who had straggled into the Westchester County Community Center at the last minute for their holiday meal. Maybe I could tell him about it, but then I’d have to admit I’d lost his pendant the day I lost my buddy, Caleb. I was careless. No. That wasn’t true. What happened was on purpose. I didn’t want to tell him what I did, because I dreaded disappointing him.
Wow! How dumb was I being? It was stupid. Maybe the guy with the ladle wasn’t even Sawyer Ettinger.
“Hey, Sawyer. We need you in the kitchen.”
Maybe it was another guy named Sawyer.
Okay. I knew it was him. He looked almost identical, except cleaner, and all of his limbs were pointing in their natural directions. I’d grown a full-on beard and had gained at least twenty pounds, ironic
