We were both in the photo that they’d taken that night. When I saw her little girl face, the memories came flooding back. I’d completely forgotten about that girl and what she’d told me. But that Christmas I remembered thanking God for my parents. I realized I’d been blessed with good ones.

“That was you,” I said, looking at her as my heart broke for the little girl I wanted to go back and hold. She’d shared her secrets with a stupid boy who’d done nothing to make her feel better.

She frowned as if she didn’t know what I was talking about, and then her eyes lit with understanding. “Oh my God. I forgot. . . . I was so upset that night. But it was just one of many nights I felt that way,” she said as her fingertip gently brushed over my face in the photo.

“You were the only person I ever told that to. I regret that. Not telling anyone my secrets. I might have saved her if I had,” she whispered, lost in her thoughts.

I pulled her against me. I wasn’t going to let her dwell on her regrets. “You were a kid. We both were. Confused kids who didn’t know the right answer to anything. He was your father. You loved him. Don’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t control.”

Maggie laid her head on my shoulder and her hand on my chest. “Thank you,” she whispered.

I kissed her head. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replied.

I had always been told my future was on the field and I could be somebody great. And I had wanted that. Until I found somebody who needed me. And I realized the only person I wanted to be great for was her.