“Burden? What burden, Mom?”
“You know what I mean, Peyton.” My mother turned away from the window and went back to the couch, settling herself down on the cushions. “Now that you’re working, maybe this will free up some of your time.”
I opened my mouth to argue with her, to say anything I could to fight her on this, but nothing came out. Just because I personally found Amanda strange didn’t mean anything at all. If my mother liked her, and she was helpful, what could I do?
“Mom, Korbin Butler is coming over for dinner,” I said, patting her arm, shoving Amanda to the back of my mind. “But if you’re not feeling well, I can reschedule. No problem, I swear.”
“Korbin Butler?” Mom repeated with a smile that was so genuine I almost hated it. “Since when are you are on speaking terms again with Korbin?”
“Since he became my PT patient this week,” I told her, rolling my eyes. “That night your friend came over with liver and onions we ended up going out to have dinner. But I told him that I was here to spend time with you, and that I couldn’t be out there gallivanting around with him.”
“Darling, don’t be silly,” said my mom, and a small blush crept up onto her cheeks. The first real color I’d seen in days. “You can spend time with whomever you want while you’re home. Besides, it will be nice to see Korbin. He’s a good boy.”
“A good boy that dumped me,” I muttered, and my mom pursed her lips at me.
“Losing Oscar really took a toll on that family,” she said, as if scolding me. “He was in a bad place, Peyton. Besides, maybe this is a second chance,” she added confidently, and I shook my head.
“Please don’t start, Mom. He’s coming over to see you. I told him you were sick, and he wanted to check in on you. So please don’t be weird and embarrassing tonight.”
“Me?” Mom said, feigning shock. “I’m never weird and embarrassing, sweetheart.”
With a chuckle, I got to my feet and went to my bedroom to change out of my scrubs and into sweats and a sweatshirt. I wasn’t trying to impress anybody, not anymore, and I didn’t care what Korbin would think of my clothes. Somewhere in the back of my mind that tiny voice that told me he would never change kept rearing its ugly head, despite how often I tried to push it back down. I wouldn’t fall for him, not again.
At six, I heard a car pull into the driveway, and I looked out the front window just in time to see Nina helping her son out of the passenger’s seat of the car, handing him his crutches. I chuckled, realizing that in all the time I’d ever known Korbin Butler, not once had he been as dependent on others until now. This must be killing him.
“Hi, Nina,” I called, stepping out onto the porch with a wave. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”
“No,” Korbin said before Nina could answer. “She has a date, apparently.” He didn’t sound happy when he said this, but when my eyes landed on Nina, she was grinning, looking positively giddy.
“I have a date,” she repeated. “With a very nice man. But thank you for the invitation, sweetheart.”
“Of course.” I smiled at her, wondering if I should really say what I was about to say next. “When is Korbin’s curfew? Nine or ten?”
Nina laughed and Korbin scowled. Always the Debbie Downer, he was. “I don’t have a curfew,” he mumbled as I reached out to take his arm.
“Hey dude, where’s dinner?” I asked, waving at Nina as she hurried back to her red little car and got in, still beaming. “You said you’d bring food, and I only see one bag.”
“I was going to,” he said. “But fatigue got the best of me, so I ordered pizza instead. Should be here soon.”
“Pizza? My favorite,” I said, and Korbin nodded.
“I know. I got your stupid pepperoni and pineapple topping, too.” He grinned finally, then reached into the plastic sack and pulled out a bottle of red wine, handing it to me. “At least I got the booze, right?”
“At least you got the booze,” I agreed, tucking the bottle under my arm as I helped Korbin up the steps and into the house. My mother was up now and puttering around the living-room, tidying up before the least tidy person in the world arrived.
“Korbin,” she said as we came through the door, and her expression melted into one of pleasant bliss. My mother had always loved Korbin—the son she never had, or whatever—which had certainly made our broken engagement difficult on multiple levels and for many people. Korbin Butler hadn’t just broken my heart, he’d broken my mother’s heart too.
“Susan,” Korbin said, setting his crutches up against the wall so he could hobble over and hug my mother. “I’m sorry that I never came to visit you before now. I had no idea about the diagnosis.”
“Don’t feel bad,” I muttered. “She didn’t tell me, either, until the day before her surgery.”
“I didn’t want anyone worrying unnecessarily about me,” Mom chided, holding Korbin out at arm’s length to admire him from head to toe. “But it’s good to see you, too, young man. How is the fire station?”
“Great, when I’m not a gimp.” Korbin smiled at my mother, then looked at me, and I couldn’t resist the urge to smile back. “I brought wine,” he told her. “Are you allowed to drink?”
“Allowed to?” my mother repeated with a wave of her hand. “I’m allowed to do anything whatsoever I please, dear boy. So, let’s find some glasses, shall we?”
As they headed towards the kitchen, the doorbell rang, and Korbin dug into his pocket for some money, handing it to me. I went to the door and paid for the pizza, giving the kid whatever extra tip had been in the wad of cash. I inhaled the wonderful aroma of cheesy pizza and breadsticks as I carried the box to the kitchen. My mom and Korbin were already sitting at the table, sipping on glasses of wine. Korbin handed me my glass as I set the pizza down on the table, going to the cupboard for plates.
