“You can’t move.”
“I don’t need to move. I need time.”
“Time for what?”
“For my body to cooperate.” I pause. “Make me a margarita.”
She rolls her eyes. “No.”
“Why not?”
“A margarita won’t help.”
“Are you even my sister? Margaritas solve all problems.”
“It’s nine in the morning, Mads.”
“And?”
She rubs her forehead, already exhausted. It feels unfair considering I’m the one lying horizontal.
From the couch, Rowan clears her throat.
I forgot she was here. She’s always been the quiet one. The elusive one. The sister who ghosts family dinners and reappears whenever it suits her.
I’m honestly shocked she showed up at all.
She rummages through her oversized tote bag and pulls out a small bottle, giving it a gentle shake. “Here. Take a couple of these, and you’ll be great again. Just don’t drive if they make you woozy.”
Piper’s head snaps up. “What are those?”
“Painkillers.”
“And what the hell are you doing with them?”
Rowan straightens, offended. “Jesus. Don’t look at me like that. My doctor prescribed them.”
“For what?” Piper presses.
Rowan shrugs. “Sometimes my knees and ankles hurt.”
I frown at her. “That still happens to you?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yep. Still getting those growing pains.”
Piper looks back down at me. “Do I have to call Noah?”
“Don’t threaten our big brother on me.”
“You can’t move, Madi. I’m worried.”
“I’m fine,” I insist. “I need to be fine. I’ve got shit to do.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“I’ve got a meeting in the morning,” I continue. “A politician got caught flipping the bird at a reporter and his team would like the internet to forget it ever happened. After that, I need to convince three different men that sometimes saying nothing is the sexiest option.”
Piper huffs. “You can’t move.”
