Usually, six-year-old Owen burst outside like he had been launched by excitement alone. He normally came running with a backpack half-open, shoelaces loose, hair messy, and a hundred thoughts already tumbling out of his mouth before he ever reached the car.
Usually, he smiled the moment he saw his father.
Usually, he ran into his arms.
This time, he did none of those things.
Owen stepped carefully onto the small porch and paused.
Then he came down the steps slowly.
Far too slowly.
His little shoulders were tight. His back looked stiff. His movements were careful in a way no six-year-old should ever move. Mason felt that change before he understood it. A hard knot formed low in his chest.
He got out of the SUV immediately and walked around to meet him.
“Hey, pal,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “You okay?”
Owen looked up and tried to smile, but the smile never fully reached his eyes.
“Yeah, Dad.”
Mason crouched a little. “You sure?”
“I’m okay,” Owen said quickly.
The answer came too fast.
There was no hug.
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