MATHEW The squeak of wet sneakers on the freshly waxed floor was what finally set me on edge.I stood by the counter, a half-empty beer warming in my right hand. The kitchen smelled like a strange mix of burnt sugar, vanilla frosting, and the sharp, chemical tang of the industrial cleaner the staff had used to prep the place. Outside the bay windows, the June heat was brutal, but the central AC was humming a steady, freezing vibration that kept the sweat dry on the back of my neck.It was Adam’s fifth birthday.Through the archway leading to the sunroom, I could hear fifteen kids screaming over a folding table. My sister, Carlista, stood near the patio doors holding a tray of juice boxes, her silver-cropped hair catching the light. She looked entirely out of place but fiercely protective. Beside her, Louis leaned against the doorframe in his shirtsleeves, his jacket discarded, eyes constantly tracking the backyard fence.We had tried to make it look normal. A real cake with blue fro
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