At 2 P.M., I Walked Into My Parents’ Backyard Expecting To Pick Up My 8-

”

“Kids survive worse,” he snapped.

Behind me, Ethan inhaled sharply, ready to jump in, but I held up a hand.

“No,” I said quietly. “You don’t get to minimize what happened. Not anymore.”

Gavin scoffed.

“Three years in prison. You want them to die in there?”

“I wanted them to not leave my child alone to collapse in a drained pool,” I replied. “We don’t always continue reading …