But there was no reason to hide it from this man who had trusted me with his life.

“His name is Brandon,” I said quietly.

“He grew up moving between foster homes, one after another, never anywhere long enough to belong.

We met when we were both working at a diner downtown.

And he left us when Theodore was three months old.

He just… walked out.” Raymond took this in.

“How old is he?” he asked.

“Twenty-nine,” I said.