He let out a small, determined grunt, picked up the largest block, and set it back down on the floor to begin again — this time on a wider base.

I crouched and kissed the top of his head.

A year earlier, Dexter had stood over me in a corrupt courtroom and asked how I would ever survive without him.

He had counted my poverty.

He had weaponized my loneliness.

He had banked on my fear.