“Nathan asked me not to tell you.”
“He’s sixteen. You’re the adult.”
Frank lowered his eyes.
“I thought I was helping him.”
“You could’ve helped without lying. There won’t be any more visits without our permission, and no overnight stays until trust is rebuilt.”
Inside the workshop, Nathan showed me a wooden rocking chair.
My heart tightened.
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Michael had started building it before Nathan was born. He’d planned to rock our baby in it, but never finished.
Now the seat was fitted, and the rough edges were smooth.
“You really did this?” I whispered.
“Cole helped. Grandpa taught us.”
I touched the armrest, remembering Michael laughing because one leg was shorter than the other.
“Your dad would’ve loved seeing this.”
Nathan looked at me.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about it?”
I couldn’t answer.
