Neal’s chest feels squeezed. It’s guilt, it’s longing, it’s a little bloom of happiness. He focuses on the roof of the garage for a moment, blinking back tears of his own. I always wanted you with me.

“Thank you,” he whispers, because he’s not sure what else to say. No one but Peter has ever even come close to saying something like that, not since his mom, and she lied to him about so many things that he could never quite believe it after he left.

“You really are the best friend I’ve ever had.”