I made it only a short distance before my legs began to weaken.
I slowed down.
The horn sounded.
And then I noticed a silver car parked near the corner.
The door opened.
A woman stepped out.
Patricia.
Carter’s mother.
For one second, I thought I was imagining her.
She walked toward me.
She didn’t ask questions.
She simply placed one hand on my shoulder.
Then she walked past me toward Carter’s car.
Carter lowered his window, clearly annoyed.
“What are you doing standing in the—”
He stopped.
He had seen his mother.
“Mom?”
Patricia lifted her phone.
“Is this you?”
Carter stared at the screen.
His expression changed instantly.
He opened the car door, stepped out, and suddenly dropped to his knees.
“Mom, please.”
I stared at him.
This was the same man who had spent weeks telling me I was weak.
Now he looked terrified.
