Page 49 of Chasing Headlines
“Only a little the worse for wear, son.” She gave me a shaky smile.
“I'll get a nurse,” I said and released her hand. I stood, glancing toward the residence door, scanning the?—
“Dammit, I said I'm fine.” She smacked me in my shin. What?
“I'll be right as rain once I'm righted. Just help an old lady up?”
I leaned down and pulled her to her feet. She wobbled. Clung to my arm. Nails bit into my skin. I grimaced to keep from seething out loud.
“You're a tall one to be sure.” She retracted her claws and stared up at me. One palm on her hip, she held a hand to her forehead like she was looking off in the distance. “Looks like you could use some exercise. I try to keep the staff here in good shape ya know.”
I shook my head. “Guess someone has to.”
She grinned. “You've got an attitude problem, I can tell from a mile away. We'll have to work on that. Come on, I'll let you walk me to my room.”
I rolled my eyes but offered her my elbow. She threaded her arm through mine. Her fingers cool against my skin, she smelled of soap and honey. I shortened my stride as she leaned on my arm and shuffled along beside me . . .
Just like my mom used to.
“I feel so cooped up all the time, I've got to get out of this room, Breslin. Why's it such a big deal? I'm used to trekking back and forth to the barn three or four times a day, making a dozen trips around the house. At least. Driving you to practices?—”
“I have my license, now. You just need to take it easy.”
“Talkative one. Really should let an old lady have her say.” My companion darted a glance in my direction over heroversized glasses. Probably the ultimate fashion accessory for 'old lady' wear.
“Hm.”
“My room's that one, Jack.” She pointed. “Along that there wall.”
I glanced down at her and lifted an eyebrow.
“Don't give me that look. You wanna stay inside all cooped up and what, stuck in front of a TV all day?” She huffed. “I still like to walk.”
“And fall, apparently.”
She clicked her tongue and fixed me with a stern look.
“You should be more careful.”
“Jack's such a dull boy.” She scoffed as we continued our glorified shuffle toward the far end of a long hallway. “Are you careful at everything you do?”
I pressed my lips together to keep from arguing with her. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. My mother, until the day she died, was a feisty, opinionated spitfire stuffed into a five foot two body.
“That's what I thought. You could at least have better manners. People in these parts, we're known for being friendly or haven't you heard?”
“I thought this place was known for dust and desert.”
“Well, you're off the Travel Texas planning committee. Name's Dorotea, but I go by Dotty.” Her hand tightened around my arm. “I see Cooper on your name tag. Is that a first name? Last name?”
“You . . .” Mom tightened her hand around my elbow. Pale, bony. I didn't know how the things still functioned much less . . . still held that much strength. “Be great, son. The person I know you can be. Be whoyouare every day, Breslin.”
“Mom, you shouldn't get so worked up. I?—”
“Nonsense. Life is passion. It's fire. Don't let the world extinguish it. I've seen your fire. I see it when you play. I wish I could see it when you . . . find love. Get married. Have your own kids . . . Someday.” She smiled, but her eyes slipped closed.
My heart pitched out of my chest and fell to the floor. “Mom, please.”
Don't go.