“A sea turtle.” Gretchen sounded confused and astonished. She took the picture from Caleb and examined it. She ran her fingertip along the lines of the fins like she was redrawing it all over again.

“It was one of the first drawings you did with him after he was diagnosed. We were trying out art as a therapy for him, not just as something fun and messy for him to do.” She found Gretchen’s silence rude and uncharacteristic. She decided to answer the question Gretchen should be asking about their son. “ADHD.”

Gretchen hummed instead of speaking. She kept tracing the same lines over and over.

Jax felt her anger start to build. “Go get your sketchbook to show Mama.” She waited for Caleb to be out of the room before taking the picture from Gretchen’s hands. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m telling you something really important about our son, and it’s like you don’t even care.”

“Because it’s not news to me.”

Those words detonated Jax’s ire. “Because you know it all, just like you did the day you told me he should be tested. I shouldn’t be surprised that a year later you’re still saying I told you so.”

“I’m not—”

“If I’m going to have to relive all of these arguments again…”

“You won’t. Don’t worry.”

“Are you fighting?” Caleb’s voice sounded so small from the edge of the kitchen. His sketchbook was too large for his small body.

“No, we’re not.” Gretchen crooked her finger to call Caleb over and lifted him on her lap. “Show me what you’ve been drawing.”

“Bug says you don’t remember.”

“I hurt my head pretty badly, and now I have a hard time remembering things.”

Caleb pulled back the cover of his sketchbook. “Do you remember me?”

Jax couldn’t watch anymore, so she collected the bowls from the table and ran the water with as much force as the faucet would allow. She needed to drown out Caleb’s voice as he recounted the way Gretchen told him he wasn’t her baby. By the time the dishes were done, Caleb had moved on to much lighter topics.

“Why don’t you go get your blanket and get comfortable on the couch,” Gretchen said, kissing the side of Caleb’s head. “Then you can tell me all your stories from school.” Caleb bounced off her lap and ran for his room.

Jax dried off her hands and leaned back against the counter. “You might regret that.” Her mood already felt significantly better.

“Never,” Gretchen said with more confidence than Jax had heard from her in weeks.

Chapter Twenty-nine

24 days, 9 hours, 47 minutes