Anyta
The house was quiet that morning. Teddy lay on the living room floor, playing with his toy car. I sat on the couch, watching him, my heart so full I was sure it would burst. Every little laugh he made, every sound, every little movement of his tiny hands—was a symphony to my ears.
I still couldn't wrap my head around him being home. Safe. Breathing. Laughing again.
There was a gentle knock on the door. I tensed for a moment, my chest pounding. I remembered Everett's visit, his fury, his threats. But this knock was slower this time, hesitant, as if from one who wasn't in a hurry.
I rose up from where I was and made my way to the door. When I opened it, my breath stopped.
"Grandma Jo," I whispered.
She was standing in the doorway, wrapped in her shawl, her soft eyes on my face. T
