“You didn’t protect me, Mom,” he whispered, wiping a tear off his nose with the back of his hand.

“I know that now, sweetheart, and I’m more sorry than words can ever say,” I told him, wrapping my arms tight around his trembling body.

We sat together on the edge of the bed for a long while as the faraway sound of baby Mason crying floated up from downstairs.

“Can adopted kids get sent back to the judge if their parents run out of money?” Austin asked suddenly, his voice tight with terror.

My breath caught in my throat, and I squeezed him harder against my chest, feeling his little ribs rise and fall under my hands.