Kate took the stairs two at a time, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't know why... but something wasn't right.

Eileen's call had been short. Too short. And her voice had sounded off.

When Kate stepped into the apartment, she found her sitting on the couch with Oliver in her arms. Her son's face was buried in Eileen's chest, and her friend was stroking his hair with slow, painful tenderness.

Kate's entire body tensed. She closed the door hard behind her and rushed toward them.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" she asked softly, kneeling in front of the couch.

Oliver lifted his head. His eyes were red, glassy. Tear tracks stained his cheeks.

Without a word, he let go of Eileen and ran into his mother's arms, burying his face against her chest.

"Baby, please. Tell me what's wrong. You're scaring me," Kate whispered, holding him tightly.

Eileen stood, met Kate's eyes with a complicated expression… and turned toward the kitchen.

"I'll finish dinner," she said without lo