“You drive,” he urges. “We’re going to the spot where we began.”

The weight of his words warms me. We began the night I asked him for a favor; we met in the cemetery, and it changed my life forever.

Approaching the chain link fence surrounding the site, I notice twinkle lights hanging from the oak tree in the center. Beneath them, blankets and pillows cover the dead grass. A small grill holds flaming logs, a cooler and crockpot sit nearby. It seems Hamilton has been ...