I brush his hair out of his eyes. “Your dad would want to know if you’re having trouble.” “No, he wouldn’t.” “Of course he would. Why would you think anything else?” Nico takes so long to answer, I mistakenly think he’s fallen asleep. “He cried at the doctor’s office,” he says with a shaky voice. I freeze. “When?” “In January.” His chin trembles. “I heard him…in the bathroom.” “Are you sure?” He nods. My heart breaks for the two Lopez men, knowing they are suffering in silence when they could be relying on each other.
