I raised him to be taken care of, not to carry your family’s burdens.”

The words hung in the narrow room, heavy and toxic, settling over the exam table and the plastic crib where June’s diaper bag sat open.

Ethan stood completely still for two seconds, slouched like a boy caught stealing from the pantry.

Then, slowly, his shoulders straightened.

He lifted his head, his face pale and drained of color, but his dark eyes locked onto his mother’s face with sudden, rigid focus.

He stepped out from beside my chair and walked straight across the linoleum, placing himself directly in front of the exit door.