and begun rebuilding his life.
Things weren’t perfect.
But they were getting better.
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And this time, neither boy was responsible for holding everything together.
One Sunday afternoon, Denise invited us over for dinner.
Michael was there.
He looked thinner than I remembered, and there was something different about the way he carried himself.
He seemed humbled.
After dinner, he asked if he could speak to Nathan privately.
I hesitated, but Nathan nodded.
We stayed nearby.
Michael looked at my son.
« Nathan, I owe you an apology. »
Nathan shifted uncomfortably.
« You don’t have to. »
« Yes, I do. »
Michael’s voice trembled.
« You and Cole spent months doing things no sixteen-year-old should have to do.
I let you believe my survival depended on you. »
Nathan lowered his eyes.
« I just wanted to help. »
« I know. And I’ll never forget that. »
Michael wiped his cheeks.
« But you deserved to be a kid. »
Nathan
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