Two weeks earlier, Toby had come home for a weekend, and he’d noticed something.
Christopher had set up a “family” account on all our devices a few months back — “to share calendars and photos, honey, it’s easier.” I’d thought it was sweet. I didn’t understand what it meant.
Toby did.
A shared family account meant that search history, in certain configurations, synced across devices.
And Toby, being nineteen and fluent in the machines the rest of us just use, happened to see, on the shared account, a search that didn’t belong to me or him.
He didn’t say anything that weekend. He wasn’t sure. He told himself he was being paranoid.
But he went back to school, and he kept a quiet eye on that synced account, the way a worried kid watches a parent he can’t quite protect.
And over those two weeks, he watched the searches get worse.
