“There’s no need,” he replied, then turned back toward the office door.
I pressed my lips together to stop myself from smiling and walked away. The fact that he even asked about her was enough. He barely held conversations with me at all.
The day moved faster than the ones before it, probably because, for once, I moved with it instead of sitting somewhere trapped inside my own thoughts. Most of my time went between Cole and Caitlin, back and forth across the mansion until the hours disappeared without me noticing. Caitlin slept through most of the day, which was exactly what her body needed after everything.
Cole, on the other hand, had showered and was already dramatic about bedtime.
“Put these on,” I said, tossing the pajamas at him while picking up his towel before he could protest. I started drying his hair, and he tolerated it for exactly three seconds before he started complaining.
“Can I do that myself?” he asked.
“No.”
“There’s a dryer right there. Come on, you’re making my head hurt.” He stepped sideways to escape me, and I followed without mercy, scrubbing the towel over his hair harder just to annoy him.
He slipped away again with an offended groan, and I laughed as I tossed the towel into the laundry basket. “Fine. Get dressed quickly.”
“It’s not funny when I’m the one whose head hurts,” he muttered, dragging on his pajama shorts with the dignity of a deeply wronged old man.
“You’re nine. You’ll survive.”
“That doesn’t make me immune to pain,” he pointed out.
He kept complaining under his breath while I used the dryer on his hair and ignored him. Once I finished, I walked him to the bed and tucked him in. I ruffled his hair one last time because that was part of the routine.
“Goodnight, kiddo.”
“I’m nine!” he yelled from beneath the covers just as I closed the door behind me.
I headed toward the guest wing to check on Caitlin, but as I passed Grandma’s room, a rough cough sounded from inside. I stopped and knocked gently on the door.
“Who is it?”
“Inna,” I answered.
“Oh, come in, dear.”
She was in bed, propped up against the pillows, looking perfectly composed as if she hadn’t just coughed loud enough for the entire hallway to hear. I moved farther into the room and glanced toward the bedside table. The glass sitting there was empty.
“Can I bring you some water?”
She waved a hand dismissively. “I keep a few bottles in the drawer.”
I opened the top drawer and found rows of medication bottles instead. Closing it, I checked the second drawer and found several water bottles stacked inside. I placed one on the bedside table where she could reach it without getting up.
“There. It’ll be easier to reach now.”
She chuckled. “Is that your polite way of calling me old?”
“I didn’t say that.” I sat beside her on the bed. “But if you cough like that at two in the morning while the water is hidden inside a drawer, you’ll be struggling for a while.”
She laughed again. “Okay, okay. You win.” Her gaze settled onme for a moment. “You make this house feel alive. You and Cole both. That boy is determined.”
“He is,” I agreed, leaving the conversation there because a lie was hidden beneath that topic. Grandma never called Cole Dmitri’s son, never even implied it openly, and I noticed it every single time while pretending not to.
“Dmitri mentioned your father is in critical condition.”
I nodded slowly. “He’ll recover.”
