PART 2 — THE FILE SHE NEVER EXPECTED ME TO BRING
Mom’s answer came without hesitation.
“Confused enough to make Abigail comfortable.”
For several seconds, I simply stared at her.
The woman sitting on the edge of that bare mattress looked exhausted. Purple marks circled both wrists. Her gray hair had been tied back carelessly, and there were shadows under her eyes that hadn’t been there when I deployed eight months earlier.
But there was nothing confused about her.
Nothing weak, either.
Her gaze was steady.
Sharp.
Angry.
And underneath that anger was something colder.
Patience.
“You’re sure you can do this?” I whispered.
Mom almost smiled.
“Samuel, I raised you through the terrible twos, puberty, and your first breakup. Pretending I don’t know what year it is should be easy.”
Despite everything, a laugh nearly escaped me.
Then footsteps creaked somewhere downstairs.
Mom immediately lowered her voice.
“She checks the hallway camera from her phone.”
