Maxwell POV

I hadn’t realized how long it had been since I came home sober until my mother noticed it before I did.

The house greeted me with its usual quiet warmth—soft lights, familiar scents, the low hum of evening settling into the walls. For the first time in months, my steps were steady. My mind was clear. And for the first time in longer than I cared to admit, I wasn’t reaching for the burn of alcohol to dull my thoughts.

“Max?” my mother’s voice floated from the ...