Page 173 of The Bodyguard

“But Drew shook his head.

“So I got out and ran over to him and stopped just a few feet away. ‘There’s ice on the bridge,’ I said. ‘We have to turn around. Come on.’

“But Drew just looked into my eyes. He needed a shave. And his cowlick was making that one little sprig of hair stick up in the back. And he wouldn’t say anything. Just stood there until I knew for sure that he wasn’t coming back with me. And then I could feel tears on my face. I tried one more time. ‘Just come back with me, okay? Let’s just go back together.’

“But Drew just shook his head. And I knew he wasn’t coming. That there was nothing I could do.

“And then my voice was so shaky I almost thought I wouldn’t get the words out. But I said to him, ‘I am so sorry that I couldn’t protect you.’

“And then Drew nodded, like I know. It’s okay.

“And he turned and walked off toward the bridge. I watched him until I couldn’t see him anymore. And I think—at least it felt this way—like you stood beside me and watched him go, too. When I woke up, I was crying. But I felt better, in a way.”

For some reason, hearing about it gave me shivers.

“I know it wasn’t real,” Jack said. “But it felt real.”

“Maybe it was real enough,” I said.

“Thank you for being there,” Jack said.

I could have pointed out that he put me there. But I just said, “You’re welcome.”

“Anyway,” Jack said, “I think you were right about the dream.”

“I was?”

Jack nodded. “That it was a chance.”

“To say goodbye?” I asked.

But Jack shook his head. “To say I’m sorry.”

THAT DREAM WASthe last one Jack ever had about the icy bridge.

He still dreamed about his brother from time to time—almost always about looking up in a crowd to see Drew smiling at him, or winking, or giving him a nod, like You got this.

Jack didn’t believe those dreams, exactly. He didn’t think they were literal windows into the afterlife. He figured it was just his imagination telling stories.

But they were good stories. Comforting stories. And he was grateful for them.

They were stories he needed to hear.

Did they cure his fear of bridges?

That depends on how you define “cure.”

He’s still not a fan of them. But he can cross them now.

He gets a little concentration dimple in his cheek, and he tightens his hands on the wheel, but he makes it across every time. Without throwing up afterward.

And we go ahead and count that as a win.