“That must've been…" I didn't know what to say. I was still thinking about his mom dying. “I'm sorry about your mom."
“Thanks." He held my gaze a moment before looking away. “I don't really remember her. I found a box of pictures and she was in several of them. Those are all the memories I have. But I was three when she died, so—" He shrugged.
“How could her death have been your fault, then?" I already decided I didn't like his dad.
“The way my dad tells it, Mom unbuckled her seatbelt to retrieve a toy for me. I'd been crying, acting like a baby, throwing a tantrum. My mom wanted to help. A truck hit the car on her side, killing her instantly."
“Griffin," I took his hand, pulling it to my chest. “I'm so sorry."
“It's okay. It was rough for a while, once I understood what happened. I u
