I’d always believed my son trusted me, even after his father’s death changed our lives forever. But when I discovered he’d been lying about his weekends for two months, I feared the worst. I went searching for answers, never imagining his secret would force me to face my own grief.
“When is my son coming home? He’s been staying with your family for weeks!”
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I nearly dropped my coffee.
“Denise, Nathan’s been at your house since yesterday!”
“Laura, I haven’t seen him in weeks.”
Denise was the mother of my sixteen-year-old son’s best friend, Cole. The boys had been inseparable since kindergarten.
For two months, Nathan had kissed my cheek every Friday, grabbed his backpack, and told me he was staying with Cole.
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But Cole had been telling his mother the exact same thing.
