He still slept with the hallway light on after scary movies.
He believed Tyler could land an airplane in a thunderstorm because, in Mason’s words, “Dad can probably see through clouds.”
And now three adults were standing over him with a photograph suggesting that everything he knew about his family might be wrong.
I moved first.
I crouched in front of Mason.
“Hey.”
His eyes found mine.
“Mom?”
I took both his hands.
“We’re going to step somewhere quiet.”
His lower lip moved slightly.
“Did Dad lie?”
Behind him, Tyler made a sound.
“Claire—”
I stood.
I didn’t raise my voice.
I didn’t need to.
“Not one word to him until I understand what is happening.”
Tyler stopped.
I had known my husband for eleven years.
I knew the face he made when he was angry.
I knew the face he made when he was frightened.
