BRANDON
I throw the last pin on the dartboard, but it doesn’t hit the bull’s eye. I blow out a sharp breath of frustration. “I can’t do it, Ollie. Not again.”
“Relax, man.” He stands, pulls the pins, and hands them back to me. “When are you telling her, then?”
“I told her it won’t take a month, but it’s been another week.”
I can only connect with her by eating the meals she prepares for me. She’d always leave a note, saying, “Enjoy your day” or “I miss you,” and I can’t even write back.
Oliver sits on the corner of the desk. “You still have to tell her.”
“This is too much.” I aim for the bull’s eye once more and throw the pin. It barely hits the center. I groan. “How am I supposed to tell her that I am going to be away for such a long time?”
“It’s going to take a year,” Ollie remind
