I swing the front door open, quelling my rising irritation over the fact that whoever is here is pulling me away from Gwen. They’re interrupting an important conversation, and I’m ready to tell them to fuck off. But shock renders me silent when I come face-to-face with my son. “Tripp,” I say blankly, taking in his casual attire of jeans, a plain gray hoodie, and a team cap.
oh FUCK
