Desmond couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “Jethro,” he said with some trace of amusement, “I don’t need money. I don’t need anything. What I did, I did for myself.”

"Don’t say that,” he insisted. “I’m happy, Desmond. My dad is alive because of you. You have to be appreciated.”

Desmond offered another small smile, but there was something deeper in his gaze. Something unreadable. “I can’t ask for what I really want. You cannot give me what I want."

Jethro blinked. He was confused by the response, unsure of what Desmond meant. “What do you mean? What is it that I cannot give...