Buried Betrayal on Eight Hundred Acres 34

found me on the porch watching Noah sleep in his stroller.

“Mom,” she said softly, “were you scared that night?”

I looked out at the water, still beneath the sunset.

“Terrified.”

“But you looked so calm.”

I took her hand. “That’s what mothers do. We shake later.”

She rested her head against my shoulder.

Behind us, Noah sighed in his sleep, safe and warm.

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