Inside was a photo of a woman standing next to a teenager. He looked to be about fifteen years old, his black hair falling over his eyes, and he wore a shy and uncertain smile that awakened something deep within me.
Logan gasped for breath and his face turned pale.
He turned the photo over, read the words written on the back and remained completely still.
“My God.”
I wanted totake the photo, but he snatched it away as if it were burning. That’s when everything started to fall apart.
“Logan,” I asked softly, “what is it? Who is this boy?”
He didn’t answer right away. He stood rooted to the spot in front of the photo, as if it were rewriting his whole life.
Then he said words that I will never forget.
“I have to go.”
He knelt down and kissed Harper on the forehead, then Owen. He seemed to want to say more, but didn’t know how.
