was ten.
“Someone in the family must have them, too,” the discharge nurse had said.
“Her father,” I’d whispered.
I hadn’t spoken Caleb’s name aloud in months.
He had vanished the same night I told him I was pregnant.
No note.
No answered calls.
Nothing.
The worst part was that there had been no warning.
When I showed him the pregnancy test, Caleb stared at it for several seconds before looking at me.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.”
He took my hand. “Then we’ll figure it out.”
“You’re not
