Eight steps over to the stairs. And then the fifty-three steps down. One at a time. He could do this.
The churning in his stomach worsened, adding nausea to his list of reasons to back off. But he clenched his jaw and took the first of the eight steps toward the stairs with as much intention as he could muster. Then he stopped.
God, now he couldn’t even make himself goover to the stairs? Slow breaths in and out. He closed his eyes.
And his phone buzzed in his pocket, followed almost immediately by the start of his ringtone.
He laughed without humor and then shook himself and stuffed his hand into his pocket. His phone continued to ring, the sound echoing out over the open beach below. His sister’s name came up on the screen, and he frowned, glanced one last time at the stairs, and then sighed with resignation as he swiped up to answer the call.
“Hey, Kris.”
“Shit, what’s wrong?”
Jake groaned. He couldn’t even say two words without his sister hearing everything hehadn’tsaid. “It’s nothing, really. What’s up?”
“Uh-uh, nope. Spill it.”
He could hear rustling on the other end of the line and then what sounded like a door shutting.
With another sigh, Jake turned and started limping back toward the house, not bothering to grab his mug or smooth out his walk this time. “It’s really nothing. I was just outside and thinking about trying to go down to the beach again. It, you know, didn’t really work. That’s all.”
His sister was quiet as he reached the back slider door, and he paused and breathed in deeply, the salty ocean air soothing him. Another day. He’d do it another day. And he could go to the beach in town today with Rye, too.
His hand tightened on his cell phone, and he let out a long breath.
“I’m sorry, little brother,” his sister said softly, her voice full of concern and sympathy.
“It’ll be okay, really.” He had to force the words out, just like he had to force away that urge, once again, to call Rye up and check on him. Or text him. Now Jake could text him. He coughed and shook his head. He’d do that later. Then he slid the door open and stepped out of the cold as he continued. “So, uh, it’s early for your daily check-up-on-Jake call. What’s up?”
“Right, um, soooooo...” Krista let out a long, exasperated sigh of her own. “My brilliant, gifted, and also highly forgetful child just discovered that he’s missing his gym bag—you know, the one I told him to leave at home before we came to visit, andthentold him to leave in the trunk of the car because he didn’t leave it at home, andthenreminded him to grab before we left your house because of course he’d ignored the first two things I told him?”
Jake laughed as he closed the slider behind him. “Ah, poor kiddo.”
“No, not poor kiddo. Poorme!” Krista let out a frustrated whine, and Jake shook his head, trying not to laugh again as she went on. “Now he still has to go to practice today, but I’m going to have to explain to his coach why he won’t beable to do multiple events since he won’t have his grips or his wrist supports. His coach isn’t the easiest person to talk to.”
“I think you’ve mentioned that.” Jake let himself lean on his cane, ignoring the aching in his leg, and started limping slowly down the hallway toward the extra bedroom, where Krista and Phil had stayed during their visit.
“So, my most wonderful little brother who loves me, and more importantly, loves his nephew oh so very much—”
“I’m checking the bedroom right now, Kris,” he interrupted with another laugh, pushing the door open. Sure enough, as soon as he switched on the light, he saw a black backpack with the logo of Phil’s gym sitting in the far corner of the room.
“Please tell me it’s there. Otherwise, we’re in much worse trouble.”
“Yeah, it’s here. I can drop it off at the post office for you when I head into town today. Maybe it’ll get there Monday.”
“Ohmigod, thank you, thank you, you’re a lifesaver.”
Jake shook his head. “Not a big deal, really,” he said, and he moved the rest of the way into the room, still limping slowly.
Krista groaned, and there was some rustling on the other end of the line again. “Shoot, work is calling. Sorry to run, but I’ve gotta take this. We’ll talk later?”
“Every night,” Jake said playfully, and he bent over and picked up the backpack.
Krista seemed to choose to ignore his little jab. “Thank you, thank you again! Let me know after you drop it off at the post office, so I can tell Phil not to worry?”
“Will do. Love you, sis!”
“Love you, too, little brother.”
