“He’s sixteen. You’re the adult, Frank. You should’ve known better!”
He looked at the floor.
“I thought I was helping him.”
“You could’ve helped him without lying. There won’t be another visit without our permission. And no more overnight stays until you’ve earned back our trust.”
Frank quietly agreed. Denise was also there, accompanied by Cole, to retrieve the equipment he’d left behind.
“Cole wanted to tell us three weeks ago. Nathan convinced him not to.”
I turned toward the boys.
“That wasn’t fair to Cole, Nathan.”
Nathan nodded, ashamed.
“I know. I’m sorry. But, Mom, there’s something I want you to see.”
He brought me into the workshop. A wooden rocking chair stood beneath the window, and recognition hit me immediately. Michael had begun building it before Nathan’s birth, imagining himself rocking our baby to sleep. He’d never completed it.
