My 16-Year-Old Son Saved a Newborn from the Freezing Cold — and the Next Morning, a Police Officer Knocked on Our Door

The baby’s skin was pale and blotchy. His lips tinged blue. His tiny fists were clenched so tight they looked painful.

I ripped off my scarf and wrapped it around them both, covering the baby’s head and Noah’s shoulders.

“Hey, little guy,” Noah murmured. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. Stay with me, yeah?”

He traced slow circles on the baby’s back with his thumb.

My eyes burned.

“How long have you been here?”

“Five minutes. Maybe less,” he said. “It just felt longer.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“No. Just him. On the bench.”

Anger and heartbreak collided inside me.

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