They moved to a quiet corner near the gate, away from the bustle of passengers and airport staff.
Evan seemed to struggle with where to begin, his hands clasped tightly together.
“I was 16,” he finally said. “Sixteen and stupid and so scared all the time.”
“My dad had left, my mom was working three jobs, and I fell in with this group of older kids who made me feel like I belonged somewhere.”
Melissa nodded, the memories becoming clearer.
“I remember.”
“They were into petty crime,” Evan continued. “Breaking into cars, stealing from convenience stores, vandalism.”
“I was always the lookout. I never actually went inside, never took anything myself.”
“I’d just stand across the street, watching, making sure nobody was coming.”
“Until that night,” Melissa said softly.
