It only took seconds, but she was close to fainting when she reached the actual porch. Her parents watched her, their concern obvious.
“The hospital shouldn’t have released you,” her mother fumed. “I’m going to make a call.”
“I’m here, Mom, and I’m fine.”
At least she would be. And once she was a little more healed, she would head to her own place. Thankfully her incomplete fracture of the fibula was in her left leg, so technically she could drive. But she had to admit that right now the thrill of independence wasn’t very appealing.
She made her slow way into the house. The large, gracious entry was normally a favorite of hers—as a kid she’d roller-skated through it on rare rainy days. But now the vastness seemed overwhelming, although nothing when compared with the wide, sweeping staircase that acted as an unconquerable barrier between her and sweet sleep.
She hesitated, knowing there was a solution, but not one she liked.
“I had it serviced last month,” her mother told her, as if able to read her mind. Which she probably could. Ava could do anything.
“I’m fine,” Victoria lied, forcing herself to hobble toward the rear hallway and the elevator that would whisk her to the second floor.
With each hop-step, her dread increased. The nausea returned, along with the cold sweat and some weird sweet-sick smell that was probably just nerves.
When she’d been maybe four or five, she’d gone into the elevator by herself—a clear violation of house rules, not that she’d ever been much of a rule-follower. For reasons the tech hadn’t been able to explain, the elevator had gotten jammed betweenfloors, trapping her inside. She’d started screaming and hadn’t stopped for the nearly two hours it took to get her out. Since then, she tended to avoid small spaces in general and elevators in particular. Especially this one.
“I’ll ride with you,” her father said. “We just signed one of the Hemsworth brothers to a new movie. There’s going to be a nude scene.”
Victoria looked at him. “You’re trying to distract with conversation about Hemsworth-brother porn? I genuinely can’t decide if that’s really sweet or kind of twisted.”
The elevator doors opened. Victoria sucked in a breath, then forced herself to move inside. Her dad followed and pushed the button for the second floor. As the doors closed, he moved in front of her.
“One potato.”
She groaned. “Dad, please.”
He ignored her. “One potato.”
“This is so stupid,” she muttered. “But you’re old, so I’ll indulge you. Two potato.”
“Three potato.”
“Four,” she grumbled.
The elevator shuddered to a stop, and the door opened. Usually it took a full five potatoes to make it up to the second floor, but their witty banter had obviously taken time. She hurried out as quickly as she could, leaving the elevator behind, turned in the hallway and headed for her room.
She only had to go about halfway down the hall, but the journey felt endless. She was shaking by the time she crossed the threshold. In front of her, her mother stood by the bed.
“I put on fresh sheets,” Ava said, pulling back the covers.
“Thanks.”
Victoria headed directly for her bed. It was a fancy, adjustable one that could be made more firm or more soft, and the foot and head raised and lowered. Her parents had gotten it forher when she’d started all-star cheerleading in high school, and she’d always been grateful.
Now she sank onto the cool sheets and handed over her crutches to her father. Ava gave her the remote control so she could adjust it before trying to lie down. Given her rib situation, she was going to have to sleep upright for a week or so.
Once the bed was in position, she eased herself back a little. Her mother helped her with her cast-covered leg, then adjusted the covers and smoothed her hair off her face.
“You look like you went three rounds with a prizefighter.”
“I’d probably look this bad even if he hadn’t won any prizes. I’m just saying, professional fighting is really hard on the skin.”
“Is this you being funny?” her mother asked.
“Apparently not.”
