There had been small mistakes in the past—nothing serious, nothing dangerous—but enough to plant a constant seed of worry in the back of my mind. Moments where I questioned if I was asking too much of him. Moments where I wondered if I was putting too much pressure on shoulders that were still growing.
Even when things were going well, that fear never fully left me.
So when the voice on the phone mentioned his name, my mind didn’t go to something good.
It went straight to the worst.
By the time I pulled into the driveway, my chest felt tight, like I couldn’t get a full breath.
And then I saw it.
A police car.
My heart started pounding so hard it almost hurt.
I got out of the car too quickly, barely closing the door behind me. And then I saw the officer—standing there, holding my toddler in his arms.
My stomach dropped.
My little one looked safe, calm even, but that didn’t ease the panic rushing through me. If he was okay… then where was Logan?
“What happened?” I asked, my voice unsteady despite my attempt to stay calm.
The officer looked at me, his expression serious but not alarmed. “Your older son is inside,” he said.
Inside.
That word echoed in my head.
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