Mason looked down.
I stopped immediately.
I put my hand over his.
That was the problem.
I wanted answers.
But I wanted something else more.
I wanted my son protected from the blast radius.
“Sweetheart,” I said gently, “would you like to sit outside with one of the flight attendants?”
His head snapped up.
“No.”
“Mason—”
“No.”
His voice shook, but he held my eyes.
“Everybody keeps talking about me.”
That silenced all three adults.
Mason swallowed.
“I want to know why.”
There are moments when your child suddenly seems older than they were five seconds before.
I hated that this was one of them.
I brushed his hair away from his forehead.
“Okay.”
Tyler pulled out a chair.
He sat slowly.
Then he looked at Vanessa.
“The photograph isn’t what Claire thinks.”
Vanessa’s eyebrows rose.
“I’m more interested in what I think.”
Tyler said nothing.
She leaned toward him.
