The stairs felt steeper than they had ever been.
Brianna climbed them with the weight of a woman walking toward execution, smoothing her hair, wiping her face, forcing her breath to steady. Lucas could not see her break. She had learned years ago that a mother’s tears become a child’s fear, and she would not give him that tonight.
Behind her, Jordan followed.
Not beside her. Not close enough to touch her.
But close enough to occupy every inch of the hallway with his presence.
At Lucas’s bedroom door, she paused, her hand trembling on the knob. Jordan stopped behind her. He said nothing. His silence was a wall she could not climb.
She opened the door.
Lucas sat on the carpet with his half-built Lego house. He looked up with a small smile that wavered when he saw her expression.
“Mom
