Chapter 3
Jason
“Hey, Dad. You’re looking good,” I greet, finding him sitting in a chair beside his bed. He’d thankfully sailed through surgery with flying colors. Coming in closer, I lean in for a careful hug before dropping a few of his things from home on his bed.
“Yeah, they don’t waste any time around here. They get you up and going as soon as possible. The physical therapist said if I keep this up, I should be home in a day or two.”
My jaw slacks in shock. I was certain he’d need to go to rehab. “That soon?”
“Other than my age, I don’t have any risk factors. And they’re sending therapists to the house.”
“That’s fantastic!” I clap. You always were an overachiever.” I chuckle. “We need to make a list of what you’d like me to get from the market, so we’ll be prepared once you’re discharged.”
Dad flashes a proud smile. “Knowing the good folks of this town, we’ll likely have a freezer full of casseroles as soon as the word gets out that I’m home.”
I should find comfort in this statement, but can’t help the scowl that develops.
“Come now, Jase. If you’re going to be in Magnolia Point for the next six weeks, the least you could do is be neighborly,” he grumbles. He’s right.But it doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“How have you been eating? I know yesterday was tough coming out of surgery. Did you eat any breakfast this morning?”
“Yes. Wasn’t bad for hospital food. And having a pretty nurse help me with my tray beats your grumpy mug.” He flashes a playful smirk in my direction.
“Who you calling grumpy, ’ole man?”
Speaking of nurses… the kind woman who called about Dad’s fall comes to mind. “Dad, who was it that called me after you fell? I never got her name.”
“It was Quinn. Quinn Patterson.”
My blood suddenly runs cold. Why would my ex-best friend’s little sister be calling?
Knock, knock.
A redhead in light blue scrubs enters carrying a lunch tray. “You okay to eat here in the chair, Mr. Bristow? Or would you prefer to get back in the bed?”
“I’m fine here, Jeanette. And please call me Calvin.”
I stand from the side of the bed where I’ve been perched and reach to remove the lid from his plate. “Pork chops. Your favorite.”
“Would you like me to cut this up for you, Mr—I mean, Calvin?”
“Oh, yes please, darlin.”
“What’s wrong with your hands? I thought your hip was the problem.”
“Jeanette, ignore my crabby son.” He winks, the dirty old man. But I don’t care how pretty she is, I’m not looking twice at any girl in this town. Been there, done that.
“Well, on that note, I guess I’ll hit the Magnolia Market since you’re in good hands here.” Jeanette gives me a coy smile, which only fuels my desire to run.
“That’s fine. Between sitting up in this chair, a full belly, and my next dose of pain medication, I’ll probably need a nap, anyway.”
At least he didn’t say a sponge bath.
“Okay, Dad. Call me if there’s something you need.”
From behind me I hear, “Jeanette, doll, do you make house calls?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
