I walked over to the edge of his unmade bed and lowered myself down carefully so I wouldn’t pull the healing stitches across my lower belly.

“Austin, come stand right here in front of me, please,” I said, patting the flowered comforter next to my knee.

He came over slowly, nervously twisting the hem of his baseball shirt between his fingers until the cotton was all bunched up.

“Mom, am I in big trouble for showing you my birthday money?” he asked, his voice barely more than a breath.

“No, sweetheart, you’re not in trouble at all, not even one tiny bit,” I told him at once, drawing him closer.