There was only a small brown box on the welcome mat. There wasn’t a shipping label or a stamp, just a message in black marker across the top.
“I’ll get it, hon.”
“Happy Birthday, Brothers.”
My body went cold.
“Who is it?” Watson called from the kitchen.
“No one.”
I picked up the box. It was light, but something inside shifted.
Watson stepped into the hallway and read the words.
“Happy Birthday, Brothers.”
“Maybe one of the boys ordered something.”
“No,” I said. “I’m taking it to our room. I don’t want them opening some cruel joke in front of everyone.”
His face changed. He understood.
