Page 3 of Single Mom's Undoing

Now I’m back—broke, terrified, and trying not to let Matty see me unravel. This time, I’m not just running.

I’m fighting like hell.

My brother’s cabin sits hidden behind a wall of old pine trees, guarding the eastern edge of town like sentinels. Halfway up the ridge, it overlooks the valley in silence.

And the view—God, it still guts me. The town is wrapped in forest and shadow, hugged by snow-capped peaks. Beautiful in a way that feels almost cruel.

“Momma, can I have more hot chocolate?” Matty asks.

“Of course, baby.” I top off his mug and slide in an extra marshmallow. “Don’t tell the cocoa police.”

He grins, sipping happily. I busy myself fixing his breakfast—scrambled eggs, waffles, just enough maple syrup to make him smile.

“Where’s Jodie?” he asks.

“Probably next door, having breakfast like us.”

Jodie’s been my neighbor and friend since we were kids. Now she’s the only person here I trust to watch Matty. She knows the basics of his condition, but not how bad it’s gotten. Not yet.

“She coming over today?”

“Later.” I watch him set his mug aside, curls falling over his forehead, green eyes bright—his father’s hair, my eyes. My miracle.

“Are you leaving again?”

“Just for a bit. I’ll be back before your nap. Scout’s honor.”

“Do I have to see the doctor again?”

The truth is yes, but I spare him. “Not anytime soon.”

“Okay.”

“You remember the drill if you have trouble breathing?”

He nods. “Code Blue.”

“That’s right. You tell me or Jodie. If you can’t talk, you point to your wrist. And if there are strangers?”

He tugs at the medical band on his wrist. “I show them this.”

“That’s right. And if Iron Man is around?”

“I show him too.” He giggles.

I kiss the top of his head, then pour myself another coffee, letting my gaze drift over the stretch of green outside our window.

When Stephan died, he left me his cabin—and a trust fund. I didn’t come back because I wanted to. I came back because Matty needs it.

“Will I really get better?” he asks, suddenly serious.

“One day,” I say with a smile I hope looks steady. “Soon enough.”

“And I can play with the other kids?”

“You will. And you’ll even go to kindergarten.”

His eyes light up. He’s only ever heard about kindergarten in cartoons. For a kid his age, he’s patient in a way no child should have to be. He’s never known anything else, but I see the longing for a normal life in every look.