broken down in the hospital bathroom and told Caleb I was terrified I wouldn’t know how to be a good mother.
Private fears.
Normal fears.
Things I had shared with my husband because I trusted him.
“You told him.”
“I needed someone to talk to.”
“You told Ron?”
“He’s my dad.”
I laughed bitterly.
“And now he has a document saying I’m mentally unstable.”
Caleb sat on the edge of the bed.
“I messed up.”
That phrase.
So small.
So useless.
I looked at him.
“I want you out.”
He
