Mason didn’t have money for a present.

Hell, he barely had enough quarters for the bus. Their mom had been passed out on the couch since last night, an empty bottle still clutched in her hand. She hadn’t even remembered what day it was.

But Mason did.

Aria was turning five.

She was sitting on the floor in the living room, still in her pajamas, dragging one of her stuffed animals by the arm. Her hair was a tangled mess, sticking out in all directions, and there was a small frown on her face. She knew.

She knew their mom wasn’t going to wake up and surprise her with a cake.

She knew there weren’t going to be balloons, or a party, or presents wrapped in shiny paper.

And even though she didn’t say anything, Mason could tell it hurt.

So he did the only thing he could.

He walked over and plopped a paper crown onto her head.

Aria blinked up at him, confused. “What’s this?”

He crossed his arms. “A crown, dummy. You’re the birthday princess.”