I unlock my Civic and slide into the driver’s seat. It’s frickin’ freezing. The windshield is fogged, and the interior smells faintly of old coffee and gear tape.
I sit there, watching the rain hammer the glass as the wipers slap back and forth.Thud-squeak. Thud-squeak.
Fuck. I want to be the guy who takes him home. Who makes sure he eats, that his pain is controlled. I want to be the one to sit with him through the nerves and the pain and the long, uncertain hours before his surgery. I want to take care of him.
Instead, I put the car in gear and pull out of the lot, merging into the slow crawl of Seattle traffic. The wipers keep slapping, and the rain keeps falling.
Chapter 11
Louis
The sound of relentless knocking on my front door and multiple voices arguing in the hallway pulls me out of a fitful sleep.
It makes me want to pull a pillow over my head and pretend I’m not home, but since I’m trapped on this couch with my arm strapped to my torso, hiding isn’t really an option.
“Oh, maybe we should have called first,” my mom’s voice carries through the door.
“Jenny, I thought youdidcall! He’s not expecting us until 7:00 p.m., and it’s barely noon,” my dad replies, slightly out of breath.
“Well, since we were in such a rush to grab the earlier flight, I didn’t get a chance. But I wasn’t going to sit home for another twelve hours when my son is lying here alone and in pain,” Mom shoots back.
The door rattles as someone tries the handle, followed by more frantic knocking.
“Louis! Open the door!” That would be Caley, my sister, using her ER doctor voice that could probably wake the dead.
“Caley, he could still be asleep, for god’s sake,” my dad sighs.
“I’m coming, give me a second,” I shout. I have to bite back a groan as a sharp pull radiates through my pec and shoulder when I lever myself off the couch using only my good arm.
Getting to the door isn’t a marathon like it would be if I had a leg injury, but since I feel like I’ve been run over by a dump truck, it takes a minute. I turn the dead bolt and swing it open to find all three members of my immediate family grinning at me.
Mom moves to grab my shoulders, then freezes when she sees the sling. She settles for grabbing my face instead, looking me up and down like she’s checking for signs of impending death.
“Oh, honey, you look terrible.”
“Thanks, Ma. Just what I want to hear.”
“Oh, stop, you know what I mean,” she says, slipping past me into the kitchen.
My dad follows, wheeling two massive suitcases and carrying a shoulder bag that smells like an Italian deli exploded inside it.
“How’s your pain level, son?”
Before I can answer, Caley sweeps in like a hurricane. “You need to sit down,” she orders, pointing at the couch. “You look gray.”
“Well, I had to answer the door because you animals were about to break it down,” I mutter, but I’m secretly relieved to see them. The empty condo has been driving me crazy all morning.
Mom is already bustling around my kitchen. “I didn’t have time to make everything, but I brought a lasagna, plus your favorite, Nonna’s meatballs, some of that bread from Antonio’s.”
“Mom, I’m having surgery tomorrow. I can’t eat a feast tonight.”
She waves a hand dismissively. “After the surgery, Louis. You’ll need to keep your strength up.”
Caley helps me settle back into my pillow fortress on the couch, adjusting the support behind my bad shoulder with professional efficiency.
“I’m fine,” I tell them, lying through my teeth.
All three of them give me identical looks that clearly saybullshit.
