“Does he?”
“He buys expensive things.”
Chase stared down at his cap.
“But I’d trade all of it for him showing up to one baseball game.”
The room went quiet.
Then I asked the question that had really been bothering me.
“Why were you mowing my lawn?”
Chase closed his eyes.
“Because I wanted to be here.”
When he opened them again, there were tears in them.
“My family used to own this house.”
Everything suddenly made sense.
“The garage.”
He nodded.
“My grandfather built the workbench inside. He taught me to fix bikes there. I learned how to ride on that concrete floor. When it rained, we’d sit inside and listen to the water hitting the roof.”
His voice cracked.
“After Grandpa died, everything fell apart. Mom couldn’t keep up with the mortgage. We lost the house.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
“And your father?”
“He wasn’t around.”
