Grant’s face drained of its remaining color.

“The decision stands,” Judge Harlan said. He struck the gavel. The sharp crack sounded like chains breaking.

I bent toward Nolan, wrapping my arms around his small frame, pressing my face into his shoulder.

I breathed in the scent of his cheap shampoo and the fabric of the navy-blue shirt.

“Can we go home now, Mom?” he whispered into my hair.

“Yes, baby,” I sobbed, laughing through my tears. “We can go home.”