ISABELLE
“Here, Mom. Just a little more.” I held the spoon to her lips, watching as she took another small mouthful of soup.
She’d been doing so much better. Eating on her own, sitting up without help, talking more. Dr. Brennan said she’d likely be discharged in a day or two.
But right now, I was grateful for the distraction of feeding her. It kept my hands busy. Kept my mind occupied.
Kept me from checking my phone every five minutes.
Mom swallowed and shook her head gently. “I’m full, sweetheart. Thank you.”
“You sure? You barely ate half—”
“I’m sure.” She reached up and touched my cheek. “You look sad. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m just tired.”
“Liar.” But her voice was gentle. “You’ve had that look in your eyes all day. Like you’re somewhere else.”
I set the bowl down on the t
