—
The room was small and windowless, with a scratched table, six plastic chairs, a coffee machine, and an airline safety poster curling away from the wall.
It smelled faintly of burnt coffee and industrial cleaner.
Mason sat beside me.
Vanessa sat across from us.
Tyler remained standing.
I noticed he had taken off his pilot cap.
For some reason, that mattered.
Without it, without the uniformed confidence, without the cockpit door between him and everyone else, he looked smaller.
Ordinary.
Human.
Mason’s backpack rested in his lap.
The folded corner of his drawing stuck out of the front pocket.
I couldn’t look at it for long.
Vanessa placed the hospital photograph on the table.
“Explain.”
Tyler rubbed both hands over his face.
“There are things you don’t understand.”
I nearly laughed.
“That sentence should be printed on the official uniform of guilty
husbands.”Get Marriage Tips
“Claire.”
“No. Don’t use my name like we’re having an argument about whose turn it was to buy groceries.”
Mason looked down.
I stopped immediately.
I put my hand over his.
That was the problem.
I wanted answers.
But I wanted something else more.
I wanted my son protected from the blast radius.
“Sweetheart,” I said gently, “would you like to sit outside with one of the flight attendants?”
His head snapped up.
“No.”
“Mason—”
“No.”
His voice shook, but he held my eyes.
“Everybody keeps talking about me.”
