Hansen slammed the door after me, shaking his head and mumbling to himself as he crossed around the front of the truck to get into the driver’s seat.
“So, good news about PT, yeah?” he said as he pulled out. “A couple of years ago I needed PT. It wasn’t for long, but it did help.”
“I don’t ever remember that.”
“It was my elbow. I hyperextended my elbow, Butler.”
“And I always said you were a klutz.” With a scowl, I leaned my head against the windowpane, wishing—though not for the first time—that I could punch Hansen for just being Hansen. He was a good friend, my best friend, really, but I wasn’t in the mood for anybody’s comments or stories. The pain in my knee still screamed, still warned me that no matter what was said now, it could all be bullshit. If PT didn’t help, what if I was screwed? What would I do then?
“I want you to call that number to the office right now to set up your first appointment,” Hansen said. “I don’t trust you not to bail as soon as I drop you off.”
Scowl deepening, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket, grimacing as my leg shifted and more pain erupted through it.
“Have I ever told you how much I want to hurt you sometimes?” I asked, dialing the number on the paper, and Hansen nodded.
“Frequently. Now make your appointment like the good boy you are.”
I had the appointment made by the time Hansen dropped me off at Nina’s house. I waved goodbye over my shoulder as I hobbled up the front porch and walked in the front door, breathless and sore, which was a common occurrence recently.
I closed the door behind me, hearing my mother’s voice drifting into the living-room from the kitchen. There was a second voice there, too. A female’s voice.
“Honey?” Nina called from the kitchen. “Is that you?”
“It’s me, Ma.” I kicked my shoes off by the front door and limped into the kitchen, surprised to find my mother and Amanda siting at the breakfast nook giggling over mugs of what looked like hot chocolate. I stopped in the doorway and stared at them, surprised to see Amanda here. I hadn’t even known she was coming.
“Oh, hi,” I said awkwardly. “I didn’t know you were coming over. I would have—” I faltered, feeling like an idiot. “I don’t know, been here.”
Amanda laughed a light, airy laugh that immediately set my mind at ease. If anything, she was good company for my mother, who loved it when people came over so she could dote on them.
“Amanda was just stopping by to check on you,” my mother said, smiling across the table at Amanda as though she’d finally found her long-lost daughter. “I welcomed her in for some hot cocoa and some of my famous homemade cookies.”
“Ah,” I said, stumbling awkwardly over to the table. “She trapped you, did she?”
“Not trapped,” said Amanda with a small, thin smile. “I’m really enjoying the company.”
“Great.” I went to the fridge and pulled out a beer, much to Nina’s displeasure. I popped the cap, taking a long drink before sitting down at the table beside my mother.
“You haven’t even had dinner,” Nina scolded, and I shrugged, looking pointedly at the platter of half-eaten cookies in the center of the table.
“Neither have you.”
“I almost brought dinner,” piped up Amanda. “But I wasn’t sure what you liked.”
“You don’t have to bring us dinner,” I said, and for some reason, my tone sounded harsher than I meant. Nina gave me a sideways glance, frowning, and I could tell at once she wasn’t pleased with my manners. “I just mean that it isn’t your job to feed us,” I added quickly, smiling at Amanda. She didn’t seem phased by this and merely smiled back, brushing a strand of blond hair back behind one ear.
“I don’t mind,” she said quietly. “I have nothing better to do.”
This surprised me a bit, but I said nothing at all, just watched Amanda across the table as I raised the bottle to my lips and took another drink. I’d never bothered to ask what she did for work, or if she had family in the area, mostly because I hadn’t really cared. She had been so nice to me for no reason whatsoever, and I’d basically brushed her off every chance I had.
“Speaking of dinner,” Nina said quickly, and I knew she could feel as well as I did the tension rising in the air. “I’m making lasagna. Amanda, would you like to stay for dinner?”
“I couldn’t possibly,” Amanda said quickly, a red flush tingeing her cheeks. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”
Before I could say something that would surely get her out the door, Nina waved her off.
“Don’t be silly. There’s more than enough to go around. It’s just me and my son, and not even he eats enough to justify the size of my meals.”
Amanda glanced shyly over at me with a small smile, and at that point I knew I had no choice but to let her stay and just get through dinner as quickly as possible. I hated that my mother was aiding what I considered stringing her along, but if that’s what she felt she needed to do, then so be it. I’d speak to her about it later.
