“I’m glad you know that.” But I also hate that you’ve had so many experiences that have made you know that.

He lifts his chin in defiance. “We are okay, but this isn’t okay.”

“Yes, it is. Cole has a whole life in California, and he had to—”

“Stop it!” Ethan gets to his feet. His hands are balled up at his sides. “Stop making excuses for him.”

“I’m not,” I say, carefully. “I’m explaining to you—”

“You are! You’re trying to make it sound like it’s fine that he left us, Mom, and it’s not. If it makes you feel better to pretend like he had something more important to do than me and you, then fine. Tell yourself that. But it’s a lie.”

Tears fill his eyes. His face turns a bright shade of red as he wars against his emotions. The sight of him hurt and vulnerable slices me open.

I reach for him to hug him, to give him some kind of physical reminder that I’m still here, but he doesn’t budge.

“Cole isn’t like Dad,” Ethan says, struggling to control his feelings. “Cole did what he said. He meant what he said. He wouldn’t just leave us.”

Oh, son. But he did.

“He’s gone, Ethan. He’s probably back in California right now . . . like he was always going to do.” I sit on the edge of his bed and pray for the right words. “Honey, sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to. Things change. Circumstances change. It happens.”

“So that’s it? You’re fine with it? He’s gone, and we just pretend like it’s all fine now?”

“What choice do we have?”

He releases his fists. The heat in his cheeks starts to fade.

The reality of the situation hits Ethan full force. Cole isn’t just a cool story to tell his friends. He can’t take this breakup in stride like he thought he could. And reality hits me too—Ethan is still just a little boy. He’s hurt and confused, unable to make sense of this mess.

But really, so am I.

As I watch my son come to terms with Cole’s departure from our lives, I can’t help but feel a touch of satisfaction. Not that he’s hurting—I wish I could take that away. But Ethan saw what I saw in Cole.

It’s a validation that I’m not out of my mind. What Cole and I had wasn’t a casual fling like he’s making it out to be. There was something there, something substantial. Something very freaking real, and Ethan felt it too.

“If you don’t want to go to baseball, we can skip it tonight,” I say softly. “I don’t really want to go either. Maybe we can grab a sandwich and hang out instead.”