“It’s true,” he insisted. “He and my mom were friends in college. Her name is Donna.”
My grip tightened on the photo.
“Daniel was my court-appointed guardian.”
That word hit me harder than anything else.
“Guardian?”
“My mom became an addict about six years ago,” Adam explained. “She doesn’t have any family left. My real father left us. When things got bad, she reached out to Daniel. He was the only person she trusted.”
I said nothing.
“At first, he just helped with rides,” Adam continued. “Then groceries. School supplies. He came every Saturday.”
My anger began to shift—just slightly.
“Mom eventually realized she couldn’t take care of me properly. So the court made Daniel my legal guardian… with his permission.”
I stared at him.
“He never told me.”
“I know,” Adam said softly. “My mom made him promise. She didn’t want people to know. Daniel said it wasn’t his story to tell.”
The wind brushed past us.
“He told me,” Adam continued carefully, “that if anything ever happened to him… you’d take care of me. Not adoption or anything—unless you wanted that. Just… help me finish school. He said there’s an education fund. In your name.”
My head spun.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“He planned it,” Adam said. “He even had me meet his lawyer—Mr. Collins. He said if he died, I should come find you.”
“He was healthy,” I whispered.
“He said heart problems ran in his family,” Adam replied gently.
Then he added:
“He told me, ‘Margaret’s the strongest person I know. If I can’t be there, she’ll do what’s right.’”
Those words pierced straight through me.
I turned toward Daniel’s headstone.
“You should’ve told me,” I murmured.
“I tried yesterday,” Adam said quietly. “But you didn’t let me finish.”
I closed my eyes.
“I don’t know if I can process this,” I admitted. “I need time.”
And once again…
I walked away.
But this time, I didn’t go home.
