Not frightened of the person themselves. But frightened of the choices they might make. Frightened of the influences around them. Frightened of the gap between who you know them to be and who they are still in the process of becoming.
That fear is not a failure of love. It is a consequence of it.
But it can also, if you hold it too tightly and for too long, become the only lens through which you see them.
Carol had spent three years carrying everything her family needed and doing it largely alone.
She had trusted Logan because she had to, and she had feared for him because she loved him, and on an ordinary Wednesday afternoon those two things had landed in her living room at the same moment and sorted themselves out in a way she had not anticipated.
Her son is not finished becoming who he is going to be. Neither are any of our children, at any age.
But the direction a person runs when something goes wrong tells you something real about them.
Logan ran toward his brother.
