* * *
Eric told Mark in the garage, the Saturday after, while Mark helped him change the oil in the old blue F-150 that Eric had been driving since 2008 and had recently, with great ceremony, promised to Tyler. The truck had a hundred and ninety thousand miles on it and a radiator that ran hot, and Eric kept meaning to replace the radiator before he handed over the keys for good.
Mark listened without interrupting, lying on the creeper with only his legs sticking out from under the truck. When Eric was done, there was a long silence, and then Mark rolled himself out and sat up, his face smeared with grease.
"That's why I wasn't on his list," Mark said slowly. "The DNA thing. Jesus. I bought him a car seat, you know that? I drove all over Phoenix looking for the one with the best crash ratings."
"I know."
Mark wiped his hands on a rag. He was quiet a moment. "You want me to say something about Melissa? Because I can. I've got some things I could say."
"No," Eric said. "I don't."