Together, they knelt there, and he knew her grief was as real as his. Knew her grief was for Gavriel, but also for his own loss. The years he and his father would not have. The years he’d realized he wanted to have, the stories he wished to hear, the male he wished to know. And never would. Had Gavriel known that? Or had he fallen believing his son wished nothing to do with him? He couldn’t endure it, that potential truth. Its weight would be unbearable.
