Espresso In The Morning

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE

THE TV WEATHERMAN’S smooth, loud tones predicted rain for metropolitan Atlanta, while the computer speakers in the home office blared Iron Maiden and the old DVD player in the kitchen cranked Judas Priest. Claire Murphy pounded again on her ten-year-old son’s door. The ever-present thudding of her heart sounded in her ears.

They had to leave.

“Grey, honey, step it up. We’re out of here in twenty minutes,” she said.

Shuffling sounded through the door, along with a couple of muffled expletives. Claire frowned. “I heard that, mister.”

The door cracked open and Grey peered at her, his auburn hair sticking out at odd angles. Dark circles ringed his eyes. “I’m up.”

Concern quickened Claire’s pulse. She lifted his chin. “Honey, you look exhausted. Didn’t you sleep well?”

He rolled his sweet brown eyes. “You didn’t sleep well.”

She’d tried, but the night had pressed in around her. She hated that her troubles had such an effect on Grey. She shook her head, fighting the chronic fatigue she’d learned to live with over the past year. She could never explain to him how sleeping only made her feel smothered.

And gave her nightmares. She didn’t always remember the specifics, but the terror often clung to her well into her waking hours. The nightmares made living without sleep a welcome alternative.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“I don’t get why you have to always crank your music. Even with your earphones on, I can tell it’s cranked. How can you do that? Normal people sleep in the middle of the night.”

“Well, normal’s overrated.” She ruffled his hair. “You’d better get in the shower. You’re a mess.”

“Mom?” He stepped out of his room, looking so grown-up in his too-small pajamas.

Her gaze fell on a wrinkled image of Abe Lincoln on his left knee. Various presidents dotted the rest of the fabric and Grey could not only name each one, but he could also recite each man’s years in office, as well as highest accomplishments. They’d bought those pajamas on their trip to D.C. almost two years ago, but Grey refused to give them up, even though the sleeves and legs were now far too short. He’d been so thrilled to see the capital, they’d spent an entire day on the Mount Vernon estate alone.

“Mom?” he asked again.

Her gaze met his and her throat tightened. The worry in his eyes these days was just one part of what haunted her sleepless nights. He was too young to bear the weight of that concern. “What is it, little man?”

He sighed in frustration over the pet name, but his expression didn’t change. “Why can’t you sleep?”

She waved her hand in dismissal, her gaze dropping. Why couldn’t he remain an innocent child, unconcerned for her welfare? “I sleep. Besides, sleep is overrated.”

“No, it isn’t.” Anger replaced the worry. “That’s what you say about everything you don’t want to talk about.”

Claire tamped down her own frustration. She had to give him his anger. She’d be angry, too, in his position. She gave him her sternest mom frown. “Are you going to get into the shower?”

He shook his head, but said, “I’m going.” He shuffled a few steps toward the bathroom, before turning to her. “You think I look bad this morning, you should check out a mirror.”

She groaned silently. Grey could be brutally honest. She loved that and hated it about him. “I’ll take your word for it. Hurry up. I need my espresso. And don’t forget to keep the curtain in the tub and point the showerhead away from that spot I showed you, where the caulk is peeling.”

“If we stuck around home more, maybe we could fix stuff like that.”

“Maybe I’ll get some caulk and we’ll fix it this weekend,” she said, though the thought of hanging around the house sent a shiver through her.

His only response was another shake of his head as he continued toward the bathroom, his shoulders stooped as if he carried the weight of the world. Claire pressed her lips together as her unease spiked into fear.

Had she bolted the door last night?