Joel brushed the boy's hair back gently.
"Get some rest and take your medicine," he said. "Mom would hate to see you sick."
But the words "I will bring her back" stuck in his throat like broken glass.
Only after rocking his son to sleep did the pain finally crash over him like a tidal wave in the quiet dark. Memories of Sylvia's icy distance flashed behind his eyelids, and each one felt like a knife to the ribs.
Dawn found Joel still on the balcony, with cigarette butts littering the ground like bullet casings after a battle. Every scrap of love and trust had burned away and been reduced to ash by their endless tests and doubts. He exhaled smoke into the sunrise. She was never coming home.
When I stepped off that plane alone, I braced for Trent to ream me out six ways to Sunday. Inste
