Jillian wiped her eyes. Emily smiled through tears.
Nathan’s voice broke. “I kept telling myself I was providing for my family… while my daughter was struggling right in front of me. And your son was the one who saw her.”
David looked at him. “You didn’t have to do this, sir.”
Nathan’s expression tightened. “Yes. I did.”
Emily rolled forward in her new chair. “And you better keep that guitar longer than twenty-four hours.”
David smirked. “No promises, Em.”
“David, I’m serious!”
He laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll keep it.”
Jillian rested a hand on Nathan’s arm. He looked like a man holding himself together by sheer will.
I stood there, taking it all in—my son, the officers, the warm breakfast, Emily in her new chair, and Nathan looking at David as if he had just been handed proof that goodness still existed.
And I realized something.
I had been terrified the police were at my door because my son had crossed a line.
Instead, they had come because he had reminded a room full of adults exactly where that line should have been.
