Chapter 54
Jack
I remove the photo from the tray, water dripping down the glossy edge, and hang it carefully on the small line stretched across my darkroom.
The red glow of the bulb paints everything in shadows, quiet and still, except for the faint drip of liquid against the basin. One by one, the photos sway on the line like ghosts—snapshots of life frozen still.
I step back and look at them.
My heart does this stupid fluttery thing, the kind that doesn't belong to a guy like me, but there it is anyway—giddy, restless, warm.
The ocean stretches across one photo, the clouds bending low and heavy, the kind of view that makes you feel both infinite and small. Another shows Lanny in a blur of motion, his little fist raised triumphantly mid–baby babble.
And then there's Nolan.
