“I did what was best for your military career!” she snapped, glancing toward the neighboring homes.
“No. You did what was best for your ego. And it ends today.”
I took the small wooden box from my jacket, the one holding Leo’s hospital bracelet and the returned letter bearing her handwriting.
“Until you give Jessi a complete written apology and participate in the family counseling required of you, you will not enter this property. You will not call me, and you will not approach Leo. If you ignore those boundaries, my lawyer will seek a protective order.”
Wendy went pale.
For the first time in thirty years, she seemed to understand that she no longer had control over my choices.
“You’re choosing them over your own mother?” she whispered.
“I’m choosing my son,” I said. “The way a parent is supposed to.”
I closed the heavy door and locked the deadbolt.
