I grab another plate from the cabinet, making sure it’s the biggest one I can find, and slide half the omelet over to it. The larger plate helps make the omelet look smaller, and maybe it’s stupid, but it could help. I don’t know.
Bringing both plates to the table, I set them down and place a fork near each. I grab some orange juice and march over to the counter to pour it, but the plastic pill container on the edge snags my attention. I glance toward the living room, then pull the container forward, looking at the filled section marked for this morning. She hasn’t taken her medicine. Should I remind her?
Behind it, tucked along the back in a long line, are several prescription bottles. I angle one toward me, the medicine something I can’t pronounce. Rose Sullivan. My mind snags on her first name, on the strange, unexpected link it shares with my own.
I sigh, shoving the container back. I know Noah said she needed help, but I’m not a damn nurse. I don’t know what to do or what she needs. How can he put this on me?
Groaning, I fill both glasses and take them to sit next to the plates. I tap my foot against the floor. If I tell her there’s food, she’ll probably just tell me she’s not hungry.
I run to Noah’s room and dig into my backpack for my remaining cash. It’s barely anything, but I grab a five-dollar bill and tuck it into my waistband, then casually I saunter into the living room and lean against the doorjamb. Ms. Sullivan is watching the news, a book with a half-naked pirate man on the cover spread out over her lap, like she had to put it down to study the report about several small car break-ins.
“Five bucks says you’ll tap out after two bites.”
She sniffs, turning her head toward me and muting the TV. “Two bites of what?”
“An omelet.”
“Five bucks doesn’t even get me out of this chair,” she says, slowly raising the remote toward the television again.
Oh hell. I only have another ten dollars in ones.
“Fifteen then.”
She smirks. “Deal. But don’t blame me when you’re broke.”
I purse my lips and nod.I ambroke, and no I don’t blame her.
Her legs wobble as she attempts to straighten them to stand, and she presses into the arm of the recliner for support. Her breaths come in shallow gasps while her oxygen tubing lets out those rhythmic hisses. There’s a pained look on her face as she rises, but when I move to help her, she raises a hand. It takes everything in me not to say screw it and help the stubborn old woman, but I stand glued to my spot. Determined, she clings to her tank handle and wheels it behind her, her steps getting surer as she walks into the kitchen.
I beat her to the table and pull out the chair near her.
Her ass lands in it with a light thump and she eyes the omelet. “What the hell is that green stuff?”
“Spinach.”
“My son put you up to this?”
I clamp my lips shut and shake my head.
She studies it wearily.
“It won’t kill you,” I mumble.
She clicks her tongue. “Your cooking might.”
I roll my eyes and pick up my fork to take a bite of mine. Honestly, it’s not bad. Considering I’ve been living on diner food and trail bars—this actually tastes like nutrients.
When she pushes the omelet around on her plate, I say, “Going to make me fifteen bucks richer?”
“Nope.” She cuts herself a forkful and places it in her mouth. Then she takes another bite, and another.
Before long, the entire omelet is gone, and her fork clatters against the plate. “Pay up,” she says, holding her hand out, and I can’t help but let out a sharp burst of laughter.
I stand, moving toward her pill case, holding it up for her to see. “How about double or nothing?”
Chapter 15
Lily
