“Oh. In that case, do you want some carrots?”
Noah nods and snatches the bowl like he’s worried I might change my mind.
“Noah, where are your manners today?” Cole asks.
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome,” I say, pouring coffee into two mugs.
“What happened to your ankle?” Cole asks, noticing the limp in my step.
“It’s nothing,” I say, too fast. “I sort of rolled it when I was trail running.”
“Sort of rolled? When?”
A beat. “This morning.”
Cole sees right through me. “Please tell me you didn’t walk home.”
My silence is answer enough. Cole exhales slowly. I can see he’s upset.
“Why didn’t you call?”
“I didn’t want to bother you.” I’m suddenly very interested in the pattern of my mug.
“That’s not okay,” he says quietly, glancing toward Noah to make sure he’s out of earshot. “You promised me you’d ask for help if you needed it.”
“And I will,” I say quickly. “But I managed.”
His expression softens, becoming dangerously kind. “Managing is not the point here, and you know that.”
“It wasn’t a big deal,” I insist.
“Your ankle is literally swollen.”
“I can put ice on it.”
I start to stand, but one look from Cole pins me in place. His quiet is louder than anything he would ever say.
Muttering under his breath, he disappears into the kitchen. When he comes back, he kneels and presses the ice carefully against my ankle.
“What will it take to make you believe you don’t have to do everything by yourself?” he asks in a low voice.
Before I can answer, Noah limps over with dramatic flair.
“My foot hurts, too.”
Cole shoots me a look as if to say we’re not done. Then he smiles at Noah.
“Come sit next to Caspian. I’ll get you some ice too.”
Noah tells us about the many challenges of being a dinosaur trainer. He starts planning a career that combines dinosaurs and spaceships.
Cole makes more coffee. I lie back, closing my eyes for a moment.
I let Noah’s chatter wash over me, soothing in its predictable, happy rhythm.
I know my friend is right.
