“You said a potty word!” Harley shouts at me.
“No, I didn’t.” I pause. “Did I?”
“You definitely did,” Cooper says, amused.
“You said ‘shit,’?” Harley tells me.
Dorothy gasps. “Harley Andrew Dempsey! You do not use grown-up words!”
“She’s not a grown-up and she said it,” Harley points out. “And you didn’t yell at her.”
“She isn’t six years old, and she isn’t mine to yell at,” Dorothy tells him.
“No, I shouldn’t have said it either,” I tell him. “When I get home, I’m putting myself in time-out for using a potty word.”
Harley looks at me like I’m bananas. “Who puts themselves in time-out? You’re weird.”
Cooper laughs as Harley runs off, leaving his apple on the ground beside us.
“I’m going to put you down, okay?” Cooper says, pulling my attention back to him.
A blush spreads across my chest when I realize my arms are wrapped around his neck, as if holding on for dear life. I nod and let go, and Cooper sets me on the ground. But a sharp pain shoots through my left ankle, and I fall back on my butt.
“What’s wrong?” Cooper asks, squatting next to me. “Did you hurt your foot?”
“My ankle, but I’ll be fine,” I say, pushing back up but bearing my weight on my right foot.
“I’m so sorry, Ellis,” Dorothy says to me.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” I say, trying to smile through the pain.
“Harley, get over here,” Dorothy calls.
Harley comes barreling over, and Dorothy makes him apologize, even though he clearly has no idea what he did wrong.
“I think we ought to head back and get some ice on that ankle,” Dorothy says.
Without warning, Harley jumps on Cooper’s back, climbing him like he climbed the apple tree.
“Nope,” Cooper says, unwrapping Harley’s arms from around him. Harley’s feet drop to the ground. “It’s Ellis’s turn. Can you lead the way, though? I don’t think I know how to get back.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not getting on your shoulders,” I say.
“You can’t walk all the way back on that ankle,” he says. “I’ll carry you on my back.”
“Isn’t there, like, a golf cart we can use or something?”
Cooper stares at me.
“Fine,” I grumble. “But that’s a long way for you to carry me.”
“I’ll be just fine,” he says, kneeling down.
I limp over and set my hands on his shoulders as he reaches back and scoops his hands under my thighs and stands effortlessly.
“Are you going to be okay, Dorothy?” I ask.
“I’m not as spry as I once was, but I’m not bedridden yet, honey. Didn’t I tell you about my daily walks with my girls?”
