I glance toward the hallway where Wren disappeared and think about how hard it will be to find her now, but step to the counter and follow the instructions. Georgia—according to her name tag—is perfectly nice, but takes her time typing in my name and printing out my tag. I’m struggling to keep from tapping my foot by the time I get it, and can turn toward the hall.
“Just check in with the nurse at the desk,” Georgia says behind me, “and she can help you get to the right room.”
“Great, thank you so much.”
When I step into the hall, I’m hit with a particular smell—mashed potatoes and cleaning supplies. The faint, fading scent of fresh paint. So, this is a new building, likely full of wealthy elderly people. It makes sense why Wren would choose this place.
Taking a random guess, I turn right down the hallway and keep my eyes peeled for the nurse’s desk. Maybe I’ll ask after Wren to see which way she went, pretend I came here with her.
I see the desk, but before I can reach it, a man stops me.
“Well, I’ll be! LucaMcKenzie?”
I wince, wanting to ignore him and keep moving, but I worry that if I do, he’ll just shout my name louder. So I turn, smiling at him and tipping my head down to meet his eye. He’s a short guy with a square face and wears a Vietnam War veteran’s hat.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I say, sticking out my hand to him. “Thank you for your service, sir.”
“Thankyoufor yours!” he says, lifting his own hand—blue veins, thick knuckles, age spots—from his walker and thrusting it toward me. I take it, finding his skin soft, and his grip surprisingly strong.
“I’m a long-time hockey fan,” he goes on, “wanted a team here since I was a kid. And now we finally got one! I can stop watching the damn Wild. Even if you don’t win the cup, that’s enough to thank you for.”
That draws a genuine laugh out of me. “Well, I’m glad I could help out. Did you—?”
“Luca?”
The sound of Wren’s voice causes the words to die in my throat as I jump, turning to see her standing at the doorway to one of the rooms—eyes fixed on me. Something flashes over her face, and I try to read the expression before it disappears but don’t quite catch it.
Did she know I was following her this time? Or is this a surprise?
I’m not sure which I want to be true.
Something tells me she knew, but didn’t expect me to come inside. For a second, I feel something mirroring shame, but I remind myself that my intuition has never led me wrong. Just a few years ago, I had the sneaking suspicion that something was going on with Callum and my sister. I’d pushed that away, thought there was no way it could be true. Then I found out I was right.
Even though I’m glad to have Callum as a brother-in-law now, I don’t want to be blindsided like that ever again.
“Wren, youknowhim? You’re in close with the Milwaukee Frost?” the man asks, his eyes darting back and forth between us. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Sorry, Reggie, I guess it never came up,” Wren laughs, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “What are you doing here, Luca?”
Before I can answer, a shaky feminine voice floats out of the room, “Wren, dear, what is going on out there? Did you get my water?”
“Sorry, Gran,” Wren calls back, and I notice the cup in her hand for the first time. “I just ran into a…friend.”
“A friend?” the voice comes again, excited now. “Well, tell her to come on in!”
Wren is still staring at me with a wary look, but sighs, stepping to the side and gesturing for me to go inside, like it’s not worth it to argue.
I raise my hands, suddenly having the realization that I might have gotten ahead of myself with this wholefollowing her into the nursing homething. What the hell am I doing here?
“No, no, that’s—” I start.
“Is that aman, Wren?” the woman laughs roughly. “Tell him to come sit down! I insist!”
“She insists,” Wren says. And this time, when she meets my eye, there’s a challenge there. “Unless you’re going to be late?”
“Late?”
“To see whomever you’re visiting?”
