Chapter Nineteen
Dawson
Curling my hands around the wheelchair handles, I rolled my mother through the door into the assisted living home.
“You didn’t have to come,” she said, glancing up to look at me over her shoulder.
“Mom, when you end up at the hospital, you can expect me to show up. No need to argue about it after the fact.”
The receptionist waved to us, and my mother threw a smile her way as I turned down the hallway that led to my mother’s room. A few minutes later, she was situated in her favorite chair by the windows with the new e-book reader I’d gotten for her a few months ago, along with her favorite lemon and honey tea.
I sank into the chair at an angle across from her, leaning back with a sigh. I hadn’t wanted to bother with a hotel room, so I had some semblance of sle
