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The detectives hadn’t called in weeks.

Nobody had been arrested.

Nobody had been charged.

And eventually, I stopped asking for updates.

There was nothing an update could give my children that they actually wanted.

Their father back.

So I focused on what I could give them.

Stability.

Home.

Me.

The relationships around me weren’t as easy.

Avery and I were trying.

I loved my sister.

That hadn’t disappeared.

But love and trust weren’t the same thing.

I could love Avery and still not trust her with certain pieces of me anymore.

Heather was different.

More distant.

I wasn’t nasty to her.

Didn’t need to be.

Collin hadn’t done shit to me.

If there was a family event and Heather was there, I spoke.

If her baby was there, I loved on him because he was my children’s brother whether I liked how he got here or not.

But me and Heather weren’t kicking it.

We weren’t calling each other.

We weren’t pretending.

That relationship might’ve been gone for good.

And I had learned that sometimes forgiveness didn’t mean restoration.

Sometimes forgiveness was simply deciding you didn’t want to carry the anger anymore.

My parents had been my parents through all of it.