My daughter never returned home after prom—eleven months later, something I accidentally discovered hidden inside my son’s beanbag chair turned my face completely pale.

hand linked through Liam’s arm, wearing that impatient teenage smile.

“Stay together tonight,” I told them.

Liam smiled. “We always do, Mom.”

Livia rolled her eyes. “Mom, we’re 18, not eight.”

“I know,” I said, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “That’s why I’m nervous.”

“Stay together tonight.”

John touched my shoulder. “Camila,continue reading …