told me at my kitchen table.
Then he paused and gave me the same nervous half-smile he had worn when he was sixteen and dented Patricia’s car.
“Maybe eight.”
I said yes.
Of course I said yes.
He was my son.
The house had four bedrooms.
I was lonely.
Those three facts did more damage together than any one of them could have done alone.
They moved in on a Tuesday in October with two carloads of boxes, a rented truck, and a golden kind of energy that made the place feel alive again.
Cassie reorganized the kitchen.
I did not like it.
I let it go.
Ryan set up a folding table in the guest room and called it his office.
I let that go too.
They said they would cover utilities and split groceries once things settled.
I told them not to worry about it right away.
That
