“Brandon?”
“Yeah?”
“Is everything okay with us?”
He stopped folding. For a second, I thought he might sit down on the bed and finally say something real. Then he smiled, that same easy smile, and pulled me into a hug.
“Everything’s fine, baby. I promise.”
He was gone by noon.
That evening, I made grilled cheese and cut it into triangles the way Alex liked.
He ate half and asked to go to bed early.
That should have been my first clue.
He never asked to go to bed early.
I carried his book in and sat down on the edge of the mattress beside him.
Something was wrong with the bed.
The surface felt bumpy. Not soft, not lumpy like an old mattress, but ridged, like someone had laid a row of pencils under the sheet.
“Alex, honey, sit up for a second.”
“Why?”
“Just for a minute. Mommy needs to check something.”
