Now the same man who once controlled every room he entered stood outside surrounded by investigators, trying to defend himself without the authority he had relied on for years.
Still holding Ethan’s hand, I looked at him.
“Do you want to stop?” he asked quietly.
There was no pressure behind the question. That was one of the countless reasons I loved him. Ethan never trapped people with expectations. He simply offered them the freedom to choose.
I looked toward the back of the chapel.
Mom remained standing. Caleb sat bent forward with his elbows resting on his knees, staring blankly at the carpet. Through the open doors, I could see Dad pacing beside a dark state vehicle, his jacket stretched tightly across his shoulders.
Every instinct from childhood urged me to run after him, calm him down, smooth everything over, and apologize for chaos I hadn’t created.
Instead, my eyes shifted to the people dressed in gray.
