“Who?”
Noah looked at me.
“Adrian.”
My chest tightened.
“Adrian Cole?”
“Yes.”
The room seemed smaller.
“How do you even—”
“He found me online.”
“When?”
Noah hesitated.
“Three months ago.”
I sat up straighter.
“Three months?”
“He sent me a message.”
“What message?”
“He said he knew he didn’t deserve anything from me.”
“He said he wanted to explain.”
“He said he hoped one day I’d let him make things right.”
I stared at my son.
“You’ve been talking to him for three months.”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Like every night.”
“No, Noah. You thought about trying.”
He looked down.
“You’re right.”
I got out of bed.
Anger arrived late but hard.
“Where has he been?”
“Different places.”
“He works in commercial development now.”
