The Garage Christmas: A Father, a Son, and the Dog Who Stayed

” he said suddenly. “Not tonight. Not with them. Just… come. And bring Buster. We’ll figure it out.”

I studied him.

“You mean it?” I asked.

Ryan’s eyes held mine, raw and tired and honest.

“I mean it,” he said. “And if the floors get scratched… I’ll live.”

That sentence shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

Because it wasn’t about wood.

It was about choosing continue reading …