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Caleb sat in her car with his phone in his hand. “He’s my son.”
“I know.”
“He needs help.”
“So did I.”
A tear slid down her cheek. I almost wiped it. Almost. Then she whispered, “I don’t know how to stop.”
That was the first honest sentence my mother had given me in years.
Two weeks later, Mom agreed to take the relocation payment. Renee arranged it so the continue reading …
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