“Most people in your shoes would have burned the bridge to the ground.”

“Noah deserves to grow up with the truth,” I said.

“Not an empty chair, and not a story built on lies.”

We walked out onto the broad granite steps overlooking the courthouse plaza downtown, where cold morning air swept up from Market Street.

Fifty feet below us on the wide stone staircase, Julian was walking toward the street alone, his head bowed against the wind.

His heavy silver watch hung loose on his thin wrist, slipping down over his knuckles with every quiet step.