At first, Dorothy talked like she was confessing to something and needed to get it off her chest.
“I told him,” she said, still staring at the pavement. “After the divorce, I told Caleb he had to change.
Or not talk to me again.”
She let out a dry laugh.
“He said I was a bad mother. Said I always took your side.”
Heat rose up my neck.
“And then?” I asked.
“One night, he showed up at my door.
Just… there.” She rubbed her hands together, like she was trying to warm them. “He had a little boy with him.”
I frowned. “His?”
She nodded.
“Two years old. He said the mother left, and he didn’t know what to do.”
My chest felt like someone had stacked bricks on it.
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