He picked at a scratch in the table.
“She never says I’m his son.”
Every explanation I’d been making for three years collapsed.
I had thought he wasn’t counting presents.
He had been counting everything.
I reached for his hand.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
He finally looked at Ethan.
That was when I understood the answer wasn’t about me.
“Dad already picked me,” Milo said softly. “I didn’t want him to have to pick me again.”
Ethan’s expression crumpled.
Not dramatically.
His eyes just filled, and he looked away for a second because I think he didn’t want Milo to see.
Then he put both hands on Milo’s shoulders.
“Listen to me.”
Milo looked at him.
“You never have to make yourself smaller so things are easier for me.”
“And you never have to protect my relationship with somebody who hurts you.”
Milo pressed his lips together.
“Are you mad at Grandma because of me?”
