Jake felt his mom watching him as he ate the breakfast she’d prepared for him and for Bryn—who had gulped hers and bolted out the door as if his mother’s domesticity scared her.
He smiled. His favorite: waffles, eggs, bacon, served with screaming hot coffee and ice cold milk wasn’t meant to be bolted but enjoyed. He ate until he couldn’t manage one bite more. He pushed the plate away with a sigh of satisfaction. It didn’t cure what ailed him but did make him feel he could deal with it.
“Thanks, Mom.” He wiped his mouth on the paper towel she handed him. “That was great.” He looked at his watch, started to rise, then made the mistake of making eye contact. He sank back into the chair. “What?”
Her eyebrows rose.
“I’m fine! Really.” The silence was insistent. “I’ll be fine. This is just a
