“And what about Cody,” I typed.

I leaned my shoulder on a cold metal locker door.

Haley was in high school, but Cody was only ten.

He was in elementary school, spent his weekends playing youth baseball, and peppered me with eager questions about military vehicles on our weekly video calls.

The phone vibrated in my hand.

“He sleeps right through it,” Haley wrote.

“Are you sure,” I typed.

“The walls in that house are thin.”