The Groundskeeper Handed Me My Father’s Secret Instead of His Grave

at the paper.

This was his.

No question.

I stood there between two rows of graves reading while the groundskeeper kept his back turned, giving me privacy without making a show of it. The paper shook in my hands anyway.

Finn, if you’re reading this, Reagan has already lied to you. If she’s told you I’m dead, don’t believe another word that comes out of continue reading …