Chapter 13

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the sunny kitchen as I took a moment to savor its warmth in my favorite mug. The steam curled up like a whispered secret, and I leaned back against the counter, watching Alex shovel another forkful of pancakes into his mouth. His eyes sparkled with anticipation.

"Mom, I"m going to score today. Just for you," he declared between bites, syrup smudging the corner of his lips.

I reached out and playfully tousled his sandy hair, my heart swelling with pride. "I can"t wait to see that, champ."

The house was unusually tranquil. The teenager was still cocooned in her bed while little Angel sat on the floor, her chubby fingers stacking colorful bricks with determined concentration. It was a slice of domestic serenity I cherished on weekends like these.

The peace, however, was short-lived. The scrape and thud of crutches on hardwood announced Matt"s arrival before he hobbled into view, a scowl etched deep across his features. He collapsed onto a chair with a heavy sigh, the lines of discomfort evident in the tight set of his jaw.

"Morning, Matt. Want some coffee?" I offered, hoping to ease some of the tension from his body. He was supposed to keep using his crutches while at home and not the wheelchair, and that made him angry.

"Thanks," he grunted, barely looking up as I poured the dark liquid into a cup and slid it across the table toward him.

"Would you like pancakes or eggs?" I asked, trying to maintain a cheerful tone despite the heaviness settling in the room.

"Neither looks good," he muttered, pushing the coffee around with a spoon.

"How did you sleep?" My voice wrapped around the question like a soft blanket, trying to comfort him.

"Awful, as usual. It"s too darn hot in that bedroom downstairs." The words came out like gravel, and I sighed, wishing I could do more to alleviate his misery. It was just too hard for him to make it up the stairs, and he had chosen to sleep downstairs instead.

In her innocence, Angel toddled over to Matt, arms wide, a wordless plea to be lifted onto the safe harbor of his lap. But instead of opening his arms, Matt"s hand went up, stopping her advance.

"Not now, Angel," he snapped, not unkindly but with a firmness that sent her retreating.

My heart clenched painfully. There was a time when Matt had been her hero, her playmate, her everything. Now, there was an invisible wall between them, one that seemed to grow higher by the day.

"Alex and I are heading out to his soccer game in Viera," I said, hoping to pull some reaction from him, but he only nodded absently, his attention elsewhere.

"What will you do all day?" The question lingered in the air, heavy with concern.

"Watch TV," he replied, already moving toward the living room, leaving me in a kitchen that suddenly felt too large and empty.

"Mommy, we need to go, or we"ll be late!" Alex"s urgency pulled me from my thoughts.

"Okay, love." I kissed his forehead, the promise of the game momentarily lifting the weight in my chest. "Go get your bag, and Angel and I will wait for you in the car."

As he bounded off, I turned back to Matt, now flicking through channels, lost in a world of flickering images. "Are you sure you don"t want to come?" My voice was a mere whisper, almost drowned out by the TV.

He didn"t even glance my way.

With a heavy heart, I scooped Angel into my arms, her tiny body a balm to my soul, and walked out to the car. As I strapped her into her seat, my mind wandered unbidden to the chilling case of Sarah Chapman. Her story was a somber reminder of the fragility within us all.

Could anyone reach a breaking point? I wondered silently, staring at the steering wheel but seeing nothing as the question echoed in the quiet space of the car. I had brought my laptop with the files to the game and was eager to get into the case details while my boy showed his skills on the soccer field.

"Hurry up, Mom; you're so slow," he urged me along as I started the car and took off down my quiet street. My mind was still fixed on the details of the case that didn't seem to make sense to me. There were a lot of them, too many, in my opinion.