I twist to make room for my mom to step in beside me. She holds the ice bag to the back of my hand as she shakes her head with silent laughter.
“Haven’t done this since you were nine, when you pegged that kid with a fastball on purpose and he stormed the mound. Pretty sure you knew enough to punch with your left hand then, too.” My mom’s gaze lifts to mine as she gives me a wry grin.
I shrug.
“I might be a rock head sometimes, but I’m not stupid.”
“To be determined,” my dad adds as he steps in behind me.
I endure the ice—and the well-deserved ridicule—for a few more minutes, but my pulse won’t slow until I know everything is all right for Renleigh and her dad. I hand the ice pack back to Daisy when she stops in to check on me, then kiss my parents and let them know Renleigh had a small family emergency.
I catch their shared look, which I’m sure is some silent parent language about their son falling for a girl, and they’d be right. Thankfully, though, they let me go without grilling me for details on the emergency and the girl, which is good, because right now,I’m not sure I have answers on any of it. And the unknowns scare me more than I thought they would.
Chapter 22
Renleigh
I need everyone to get out of my way. I just need this house empty for one minute so I can think.
My fingers sink into my temples, rubbing tight circles to fend of the migraine itching to take me out. Hunter is lifting my father’s favorite chair the way a child hugs an enormous stuffed animal and carries it around. All I can think is, he’s going to hurt himself and not be able to play for Texas this weekend. Plus, he still hasn’t explained the bandage wrapped around his left hand. Lindsey says it’s on the knuckles and he probably punched someone, but I don’t think he’d be stupid enough to do that after getting called up.
“I don’t think it will be a problem to fit the ottoman in here, Renleigh.” Hunter wipes his brow and moves to the next piece of furniture for the fourth time so my father can relax, though his leg is going to be in a cast for six to eight months.
“I just don’t know,” I say, staring at the space to imagine how it’s all going to work.
It’s not the chair. Or the bed. Or that we’re regressing back to the wheelchair because he can’t drag a cast on a walker, and he was making so much progress. It’s none of that, but it’s allof that. And it’s the fact if I were here, maybe it wouldn’t have happened.
“Hey, let’s take a break,” Hunter says after setting the ottoman in place. He’s right. There’s plenty of room.
“I don’t have time for breaks,” I bite out.
I spin in the room, my eyes darting to my sister, who is leaning against the staircase banister while snapping off a piece of carrot between her teeth. It’s the most annoying sound ever. I’m pretty sure she knows it, too.
“Are you going to help?” I hold out my open palms, and she shakes with a silent, single laugh.
“Absolutely not. You’re a tornado.” She snaps off another bite and smiles as she chews with tight lips.
I glower at her, and Hunter palms my shoulders and redirects me to the sofa, forcing me to sit. He’s probably right. I’m on edge. But also, he’s leaving, so what does any of this matter?
“Do you want me to get your dad in here and we can see how this works out? I can help him. You just sit, maybe manage the situation from here, huh?” He covers my balled hands with his massive palm, stopping me from fidgeting. My gaze flies to his.
“My mom didn’t know what to do. She still doesn’t. She’s just sitting in there at the kitchen table, makingimportantphone calls while he sits in his wheelchair and waits for her to get done with her oh-so-vital work,” I scoff.
Hunter chuckles, which sets me off even more.
“Stop it. You know I’m right,” I snap, getting to my feet. He grabs my hand before I make it a full step away, and despite my best effort to finagle my grip away from his, I’m forced to pause and meet his gaze.
“This was not your fault,” he says.
I blink without breathing as I stare into his eyes. I don’t believe him, but also, I don’t think it wasonlymy fault.
“I wasn’t here, Hunter. And she had no idea what to do. He just lay there, by the tub, waiting for the medics to come and help. Because she sent the home health nurse home. She wanted to help him bathe on his own, and then?—”
“She wanted to try. And your dad is a grown-ass man, Renleigh. I don’t think he tried hopping into that tub just because she told him to. Falls happen.”
Hunter takes a deep breath, and I match it with my own on reflex. It helps calm my nerves, but tears threaten to break through again, so I glance to the floor between us. I’d rather be angry.
“Falls can be prevented,” I murmur as he pulls me into his embrace.
