“Well, that’s not going to happen,” Jamie said. “We’ll make sure of it.”
“Yeah, you didn’t have us before,” Silas added. “No way we’re going to let that shit go down. We’ll kick his ass ourselves if we have to.”
I laughed, strangely comforted by the threats of violence.
“I’m pretty sure he could take you,” I said.
“Eh, I’m scrappy,” Silas said.
“And I’ll bring the dogs,” Jamie added.
I laughed with my friends, feeling some of the anxiety lift. “He was really sweet last night,” I admitted. “He didn’t bolt or anything.”
“Wow, your standards are so high,” Silas said with a laugh. “He didn’t bolt!”
I picked up one of his remaining doughnut holes and threw it at him. “You know what I mean! We…cuddled.”
Silas’s eyes went wide. “No shit?”
Jamie grinned. “Sounds like love to me.”
I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t love. Nowhere near it. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But it was something. If Damon was brave enough to come back, if he didn’t have a big freak-out and run for the hills, then maybe…it could go somewhere really good.
CHAPTER 19
Damon
“Ow, goddamn it!”Dad struggled to get out of his recliner where we’d settled him after his surgery. “Sharon! I need the dang TV remote!”
“It’s on your stand!” Mom called from the kitchen a few feet away.
“No, it’s not. I already—” He broke off with a curse and a groan.
“Dad, stop!” I bent over his chair, placing my hands on his shoulders. “The recliner will do the work for you, remember?” I reached down and hit the button on the side and the motor whirred, tipping the chair forward.
Dad grabbed onto my arms with a death grip as he came to his feet. His face went white with pain. I hated that he was suffering, but half of it was his own fault. He was a terrible patient.
“Don’t treat me like I’m feeble,” he muttered even as he clung to me for dear life.
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, tough guy, let me get your walker.”
“Now you’re just being mean,” he complained.
“I must be right on time,” Wendy said, letting herself in with Neil right behind her. “I’m the nice child. The one you love most.”
Dad chuckled. “That you are. You still think I’m tough, don’t you?”
“The toughest, Daddy. You’ll kick this surgery’s ass.”
I put the walker in front of Dad. “Want a bathroom break while you’re up? Then maybe we should put you to bed. I have to go soon.”
I’d spent the whole day getting the house ready—helping Mom move furniture around to make it easier for Dad to travel with a walker and not trip over anything—then getting him home and settled. Mom was stressed out by Dad’s pain, so she’d been little help with that, hovering and asking him if he was okay every ten minutes until he told her to let him watch TV in peace.
She’d finally crashed for a long nap. I was sure she’d been up half the night before, worried about him, so she needed the rest.
Dad scowled and turned to my sister. “See what I have to put up with? Damon’s treating me like a toddler! It’s only eight p.m.”
“You’ve had a big day?—”
