Every summer, Ryan would take the lads fishing at Lake Monroe. It was their unique relationship—a custom between a father and his son. They would depart before dawn and return in the evening, reeking of sunscreen and lake water. Every year, Ryan would kiss the top of Lily’s head and assure her that it would happen the following year when she begged to go along. However, the following year never came.

The final morning was just like any other fishing excursion. Before daybreak, Ryan was making coffee in the kitchen. Caleb was yelling that this was the year he would catch the biggest fish in the county while Jack was having trouble buttoning his shirt. Lily begged one more time to accompany them as she stood in her pajamas by the rear door.

Ryan lowered himself to her level and gave her a soft grin. Peanut, you’re still too small for the boat. The following year.

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