Page 62 of Protect Thy Enemy

“She hasn’t been doing well since her last visitor.”

I turn to see Nurse Langston, her kind face shadowed with worry.

“Visitor?” I ask, frowning. “Gran hasn’t had a visitor besides me in… years.”

Langston nods, lowering her voice. “That’s what we thought too, but someone came by a few days ago. We weren’t given aname, just a well-dressed man who seemed polite enough. He stayed about thirty minutes. She’s been… agitated ever since.”

Agitated.

The word twists in my gut, setting me on edge. Gran rarely had lucid moments these days, but when she did, she was sharp enough to notice things most people wouldn’t. If someone visited her, there was a reason.

“Did he say anything? Leave anything behind?”

Langston shakes her head. “No, but she’s been more disoriented than usual. She keeps asking for her granddaughter, though.” She pauses, her gaze softening. “Not Annie. You.”

I don’t allow myself to get my hopes up about if she’s still lucid. I know it comes and goes, yet it never lasts long.

I swallow hard, forcing a tight nod before stepping past her into the room.

Gran is sitting by the window, a thick quilt draped over her lap despite the warmth of the room. Her hair is even thinner now, snow white and wispy around her face, and her hands tremble slightly as they rest on the armrests of her chair.

“Hi, Gran,” I say softly, shutting the door behind me.

She doesn’t respond right away, her gaze fixed on the garden outside. For a moment, I think she hasn’t heard me, but then her head turns, her eyes meeting mine.

“You’re not Annie,” she says, her voice clearer than it’s been in months.

My chest tightens. “No, Gran. It’s me. Arden.”

Her lips press together, her eyes narrowing as if she’s trying to place the name. And then, like a light flickering on, recognition dawns.

“Arden,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “My granddaughter. You’re all grown up now.”

I nod, stepping closer, my throat thick. “That’s right.”

Gran’s hands clutch the edges of the quilt, her knuckles white. “Where’s your father?” she asks suddenly, her gaze sharp. “Did he come back? He said he’d come back.”

The unknown man’s name hits like a punch to the stomach. I kneel beside her, trying to keep my voice calm. “Gran… Leo hasn’t been around for a long time.”

She shakes her head, her expression distant now. “That’s just not possible. He was getting ready to leave his job, you know.” Her words grow softer, more fragmented. I recall her saying that the last time I was here, but she didn’t elaborate. “Something at the White House. Very important man but he was going to leave it all behind. To settle down with your mom. He loved her more than life itself.”

My fingers tighten against the arm of the chair. Leo. My mother. Two names I’ve spent most of my life trying to forget and learn, now tangled together in a past I can’t seem to escape.

“Do you know what happened to him?” I ask carefully, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.

Gran’s cracked lips tremble, her gaze darting back to the window. “He never came back,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “But he swore he would. Your mom waited for him, but then she…” Her face crumples with emotion. “She made mistakes, Arden. She made so many mistakes.”

I reach for her hand, holding it gently. “It’s okay, Gran. You don’t have to talk about it.”

But she shakes her head, tears pooling in her eyes. “She loves you, you know. She just didn’t know how to show it.”

I swallow the bitter laugh threatening to escape. Loved me. That’s one way to describe the woman who sold me out to the highest bidder, whose addictions always came first, no matter the cost.

“She tried,” Gran whispers, her voice breaking.

I don’t argue. I don’t tell her about the night I found my mother counting cash on the dining table while a stranger eyed me like I was the next thing up for sale. Or about the years Luna’s parents spent trying to patch together the pieces my mother had shattered.

Instead, I squeeze Gran’s hand and force a smile. “I know, Gran.”

---