Caleb’s sobs hitched and stuttered, his tears halting for the briefest moment.
The truth was, he never swallowed medicine unless his mother coaxed him, sometimes with silly little songs, sometimes with her patient voice promising he’d feel better soon.
But where was she now?
The realization slammed into him. He wasn’t from a broken home. He wasn’t supposed to be here without her.
His gaze darted wildly around the hospital room, searching for her scent.
“Dad…” His voice cracked, raw from crying. His small face was blotched red, eyes swollen like bruised fruit.
“Why hasn’t Mom come to see me?”
Every other time he’d fallen sick, Sloane had been there, her touch on his forehead, her lips pressing comfort into his hair. Somehow, when she was near, the needles didn’t burn
