I point at her with a gentle, knowing look to complete the Ada impression, and we both laugh.
“See you tomorrow.” I start heading to my room.
“One more thing.” The hint of hesitation in her voice stops me. “Fuck, I can’t believe I forgot.”
“Forgot what?”
When I turn to face her, I find her in the kitchen, wringing her hands.
“I might be overreacting about something that happened while you took a break today.”
My stomach plummets first. Then rage swirls in my chest.
I stalk toward her and cup both her hands in mine.
“I swear to God, if someone’s harassing you, I’ll”—beg Alaric to make them disappear—“make sure they never come near you again.”
“What?” Her eyebrows shoot up. “No, no. Everyone’s been super nice. No one’s botheringmeat all.”
I’m only mildly comforted by that. “Who do they bother, then?”
“Remember Mrs. Tobin?”
How can I forget? She’s the sweet lady with the white hair and kind green eyes who comes in twice a day with a walker. She always orders mint tea, even though one of the nurses can help her, claiming she needs to stretch her legs.
But what I remember most about her is the bruises on her face and arms. Every time I see her black-and-blue skin,my pulse spikes and my fists clench, ready to go after whoever did that to her.
That’s another thing I could ask Alaric to look into, once he tells me about his life as a vigilante.
“Yes.” I nod eventually. “What about her?”
“The cafeteria was empty when she stopped by. So, you know me, I love talking to our customers while I get their orders ready. We chatted about the hospital, the weather, stuff like that.” Hope’s lips pinch. “But then I asked if they were discharging her anytime soon. One question, and she turned pale, Lil. Like, ghost pale. I don’t think she wants to go home.”
“Her son has been around once. He seemed nice enough, helped her to her seat and…”
The rest of the sentence dies on my tongue.
My heart drops as the memory of her son takes shape.
His face.
He’s the man from the alley. The stranger who isn’t a stranger at all.
Alaric kidnapped Mrs. Tobin’s son.
Needing to protect his secret, I force my lips into what I hope passes for a genuine smile, keeping my stunned, adoring reaction bottled up.
It’s a struggle, though. A goddamn effort.
“I remembered him, too. That’s why I mentioned him to her.” Hope shifts on her feet like she’s been caught doing something bad. She hasn’t. Abusers have a way of being charming on the outside and fucking monsters on the inside. “I suggested that, together, they could file a report againstwhoever’s been hurting her, if that was the case. That’s when things got even weirder. All she did was sayyes, yes, thank me, grab her tea, and head out of the cafeteria as fast as she could.”
“I see.”
I really do. Clearer than before.
Mrs. Tobin had to have been Alaric’s patient when she was brought in.
And he, with years of experience, probably has a sixth sense for who needs hisspecialhelp. Besides the glaring evidence, that is. It has to be the reason he kidnapped her son.