I set the box on the coffee table and peel it open. Richard watches me out of the corner of his eye with a grin on his face, but I’m too giddy to be embarrassed.
Inside is a smaller box containing the dry ingredients for Maggie Shaw’s homemade hot cocoa, along with a recipe card. An attached Post-it says the refrigerated ingredients will arrive soon.
Bouncing on my toes, I bite my lip and dig around to see what’s next. I pull out an electric blanket, revealing the note I’ve come to expect at the bottom of the box.
Hannah,
Put on your comfies, make some hot chocolate, and come sit under the stars with me. I may not bethere with you, but we’ll be looking at the same sky. I’ll call you at 9.
Love,
Rowan
“Lover boy strikes again.” My head snaps up at Mom’s ragged voice. The words come out scratchy, sputtering into a cough.
I don’t waste a second. I crawl into the bed and sidle up next to her. “Hi, Mom.”
She gestures weakly toward the card in my hand. “What’d he write this time?”
Her wince is evident when I hold the note up for her, so I end up reading it aloud.
“I’ll make you some broth,” Richard offers. Before he heads to the kitchen, he swipes Mom’s cell off the side table to put it on the charger.
She watches his exit with a look on her face that makes my heart clench.
I lean in so only she can hear me. “He’s been here everyday.”
Slowly, her heavy-lidded eyes drift to me. She doesn’t say anything, but it’s all there in the upward crook of her mouth.
“In fact,” I say, brushing hair from her temple, “I think he’s a little obsessed with you.” Her cheeks hitch a bit higher. “And I suspect the feeling might be mutual.” One finger and then another curls over mine on top of the blanket—a silent confirmation. “Maybe you should tell him.”
She coughs once. “Meddling now?”
“Learned from the best.”
Her lungs wheeze when she huffs a soft laugh. I suppress the concern in exchange for an encouraging smile.
Richard appears at the threshold to the kitchen. “Hannah, we’re out of broth. Could you run out and grab some while I give Lydia her next dose of meds?”
My brows pinch together and I reach for my purse. I know howimportant it is to feed her when she’s alert like this and the market is only a few blocks away.
“I’ll be back in ten minutes, Mom. Try and stay awake if you can.”
Her smile is as weak as the nod of her head, but I still find myself thankful for any smile at all.
The checkout line was longer than normal, so I’m pushing fifteen minutes by the time I return.
When I step inside, Richard’s glassy eyes meet mine. A wave of dread crashes over me for half a second before I notice Mom’s head turn.She’s still alive.
I take a deep breath to hide my momentary panic, but the relief is short-lived. Mom looks like she’s been crying. Richard intercepts me, takes the bag from my hand, and disappears into the kitchen.
“Everything okay?” I ask, lowering to the chair beside her.
Another cough. I offer a sip of water and she takes it eagerly. She winces through an arduous swallow, her muscles working twice as hard to perform the most basic of functions.
Noting the half-eaten bowl of applesauce on the table, I grab some chapstick and give her lips a fresh coat. “You want some more applesauce?”
She shakes her head, finds my hand, a little more desperately this time. I grasp hers firmly between both of mine.