out a short, irritated laugh.
“She’s not afraid of me. She’s just being dramatic. She’s been difficult ever since Emily passed away.”
Don’t say my wife’s name, I thought.
Before I could answer, I heard something upstairs.
My son was coughing.
Not crying.
Coughing.
It was a small, dry, exhausted sound that made my heart drop.
I rushed upstairs.
Owen was sitting alone in his crib. An almost empty bottle of water lay near his feet.
There was no milk.
No blanket.
His diaper was sagging, and his little face looked pale.
When I picked him up, I was shocked by how light he felt. His body was burning with fever, and he barely had the strength to lift his head.
“Owen,” I whispered, holding him against my chest.
He didn’t respond.
Kate appeared in the doorway behind me, breathing heavily.
“Daniel, you’re overreacting. He’s probably just tired.”
Lily stood
Comments