“You don’t have to decide what to call him.”
Lucas went back to
his pancakes.
I reached across the table and straightened his napkin out of habit.
Then I looked at the syrup bottle.
The crumbs.
The plate sitting crooked beside his elbow.
Normally, I would have fixed all of it.
That morning, I left everything exactly where it was.
Because for ten years, I had believed protecting Lucas meant controlling every uncertain thing around him.
Now I understood something Teagan had tried to tell me long ago.
Sometimes loving someone means asking what they’re afraid of.
Sometimes it means telling the truth even when the truth is uncomfortable.
And sometimes it means giving someone the space to choose what happens next.
