“It’s…fine,” he says, sounding totally bemused. But I just squeeze him more tightly—my arms seem to be totally outside of my control at the moment—hugging him the way no one has ever hugged him before. Hugging him the way he always should have been hugged. By his mother. By his father. By Jaxon. By Lia. By all the people who should have loved him. Who should have taken care of him.
