Braden seemed to settle down as he ate. Rather, he wasn’t as antagonistic or confrontational, but that might have been because he was too busy concentrating on his Chicken McNuggets. Remy had chosen a booth, and Braden sat beside him, Lane across the table. Remy leaned against the side of the booth and watched his son eat, while under the table, his foot rested comfortably alongside Lane’s ankle. He couldn’t wait until they could retire to their room in the cabin, close the door on the world, and lose themselves in each other’s embrace.
Whenever Lane tried asking Braden anything, the boy stared silently at his food, unwilling to answer. “How’s school?” and “What classes are you taking?” and even “What did you ask for for Christmas?” drew nothing but blank looks. Not only was Braden ignori
