Jessa

The snow had finally stopped sometime in the night, like the storm got bored of being dramatic and decided to leave us alone.

By morning, the world outside Noah’s window looked like someone had taken a giant handful of glitter and dumped it over everything.

Pretty.

Quiet.

Deceptive.

Because inside the Carter house, I was still recovering from the most mortifying breakfast conversation of my life.

Noah had been red for at least twenty straight minutes.

His mom had ...