When Liam turned eighteen, I asked what he wanted. I expected a tool set, maybe a weekend trip. Instead, he said, “I want to meet my grandfather.”
My heart clenched. “He hasn’t called in eighteen years,” I said.
So we drove there. The same cracked driveway. The same porch light glowing like a ghost from my past. My hands shook on the steering wheel as Liam stepped out.
A Door Opens Again
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