“Okay, the offer stands if you ever want to join us.”
“Thanks.”
Nico grabs his things and slaps me on the shoulder as he leaves. “Try not to get fired while I’m gone.”
“Not making any promises.”
With a sigh, I look down at the report and then get to work.
“Hi, I’m here for Isabella Williams,” I tell the nurses, who have been watching me with interest across the counter since I stepped into the lobby of Helpful Hands. The assisted living facility is located about an hour away from Bluebonnet Creek, and they focus on helping people with dementia and Alzheimer’s. “I’m Matthew Williams.”
“Oh, you’re Mrs. Williams’s youngest son. Your sister was here earlier and told us you might stop by after work, but it was getting late, so I figured something must have happened.”
Fucking Jenkins happened.
Just thinking about the man pisses me off all over again, but I force myself to shake it off.
“My shift ended later than expected,” I say noncommittally before quickly changing the subject. “Is she still…?”
My stomach rolls with unease as I try to come up with proper words to finish the sentence.
Good? Herself? Lucid? What are the words one uses in this kind of situation? Fuck if I know.
The nurse shoots me a gentle smile. “Mrs. Williams was still lucid when I last saw her. Come on, I’ll take you back.”
I shift my weight from one foot to the other as she walks around the counter and then to the glass door. She enters a code, and the door buzzes to life.
She looks over her shoulder as she pulls open the door and then waves me to enter. She must have noticed my gaze dart to the lock pad because she explains, “It’s just a precaution.”
I nod slowly, my throat suddenly feeling tight.
“Some people tend to wander off and get lost, even hurt, but as you’ll see, the inside is very modern and nice. It’s your first time here?”
“I…” I tug at the collar of my shirt, once again feeling as if I can’t breathe properly. “Yeah.”
She smiles at me reassuringly. “We try to make the place feel like a home away from home. Each of our residents can personalize their room as they wish. There are also a lot of common spaces for them to socialize and participate in activities. We have both medical personnel and volunteers who stop by to help us lead different arts and crafts groups to keep our residents entertained.” Her gaze darts to the bouquet in my hand. “Your mother will love those. She really likes to sit out in our little garden, and she even tends to it occasionally when she feels up to it.”
“Yeah, she always loved to be outside,” I say distractedly as I scan the space.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but the place looks nice. Homey. There are people mingling around, some on their own, others in small groups. People are watching TV, reading, or playing games. It all looks pretty… normal.
“Suzie, did you see Mrs. Williams?” the nurse asks one of the women who’s dressed in a shirt and a pair of jeans. One of the volunteers, maybe?
“She’s in her room, I believe.”
“Thank you,” she says to the woman, before she turns to me, “The bedrooms are this way.”
I follow her lead down the hallway. Some doors are open; others are closed. As we near the end of the hall, I can hear soft laughter coming from one of the rooms.
My heart skips a beat, palms turning sweaty, as the nurse peeks through the door with a big smile. “I have a visitor for you, Mrs. Williams.”
Taking a step back, she turns to me with an encouraging smile. My fingers tighten around the flowers as I force my feet to move toward the doorway.
“Who is it?” Mom glances over her shoulder, her eyes growing wide when they land on me. “Matthew.”
Mom pushes from the chair, her lips parting as she stares at me for a moment, as if she can’t believe it.
I swallow hard, but the knot stuck in my throat doesn’t budge.
