“Dale, are you feeling all right?” I’d asked.
“Just old,” he’d said, and laughed, and didn’t look at me.
Ezra had been quiet all day too. Too quiet. When I hugged him goodbye, he held on a second longer than usual, and he felt thinner than I remembered. I told myself it was nerves. First apartment. Big step.
I hugged my son, told him to call me, and drove home to an empty house.
Now my son stood shaking in my kitchen and wouldn’t look at me.
“Whatever it is,” I said gently, “you can tell me. We’ll figure it out together.”
“You can’t promise that!”
The words exploded out of him. I flinched.
What could possibly frighten him this much? I searched for an explanation, and only one came to mind. I took a breath.
“Wyatt… are you and Ezra more than friends? Because if you are, sweetheart, that’s okay. Nothing in this world could change how much I love you.”
