“You’ll have to ask your niece if she’s willing to part with a chicken strip or two.” Sarah withdrew her daughter’s lunch from the sack and handed it off to her brother who transferred it to the counter so he could continue making the little girl laugh with his ridiculous antics. “And that’s entirely up to her.”
“Will you share with me?” Holden squeezed his niece in a big bear hug, complete with growl and all.
“I share,” Laney readily agreed.
“Such good manners.”
Sarah observed the two a moment longer, a smile lingering on her face. But when she shifted her attention to Lance’s anxious demeanor, that grin suddenly faded. “Hey. Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He took one stride forward but then paused. “Just took a funny step. I’m good.”
But when he attempted to bear more weight on the leg that consistently gave him trouble, he audibly grunted. Before Sarah could register what was happening, Lance crumpled to the floor.
Sarah gasped and then exchanged a wordless look with her brother, invoking the kind of sibling telepathy they’d shared since childhood. Without hesitation, Holden gently placed Laney on the ground and walked over to assist his buddy.
“Let me set up our food in the back,” Sarah suggested as she took her daughter’s hand, providing Lance a little privacy. There was an element of embarrassment—undo, if you asked her—that he experienced every time his knee failed him. And this time, it had been a spectacle. It was better for Holden to help out in this particular scenario, but Sarah couldn’t say she didn’t wantto be the one tending to Lance. Helping him. Comforting him. Supporting him.
“Lance okay?” Laney’s big, worry-filled eyes flitted up to hers. Her daughter’s question had echoed loud enough for everyone in the establishment to hear, as was often the way of toddlers and their unfiltered remarks.
“Lance is just fine, sweetie,” Sarah assured under her breath hoping Lance didn’t overhear but knowing that wasn’t likely.
She collected Laney’s chicken strips from the counter to take all of the food to the back break room. She cracked the door open. The small space smelled so much like her brother’s bedroom growing up that she wrinkled her nose, wondering if a candle or a wall diffuser was a discreet enough gift to freshen up the area. She would need to add those to the list of things for her brother’s next birthday—the shop certainly could use a woman’s touch. She had to laugh that the musty scent was quickly overpowered by the aroma of fried food she’d brought with her anyway, a marginally better tradeoff.
After five minutes, Lance finally emerged in the doorway.
Sarah had expected her brother to be at Lance’s side, one arm around his friend’s middle while the other held tight to keep him steady. But Lance had somehow managed on his own, as evidenced by the beads of sweat that dotted his hairline, paired with the ruddy pink hue of his cheeks. Pain was etched in every line on his face.
Without even meaning to, Sarah sprang from her seat, pulling out the one next to her, and ushering Lance into it.
And before she could help herself, she blurted, “Are yousureyou’re okay?”
His eyes shut and teeth gritted as he hissed out a shallow breath before slowly lowering into the chair. “You sound like your daughter.”
“We’re both worried about you.”
She couldn’t hide that any more than Lance could camouflage his discomfort.
“You don’t need to worry.” He studied her for a long beat. “Seriously, Sarah. I’m fine.”
That was a bald-faced lie if ever she’d heard one. “Well, at least let me feed you, then.”If you’re not going to let me take care of you,she thought to herself.
“Smells delicious.” Lance rubbed a circle on the center of his belly. “Fried goodness. Just what I’ve been craving.”
Sarah had already set her daughter up at the table with her chicken strips and dip, so she got to work unwrapping the grilled cheese sandwiches, along with the orders of curly fries and packets of ketchup that were tossed into the bottom of the grease-coated bag. While she liked to eat healthy when she could, some days just called for a dose of comfort food. Today had definitely turned out to be one of those instances.
Sliding Lance’s lunch over to him, she paused. “Something to drink? Do you have a water bottle you want me to get for you? Something out of your locker?”
“I’m fine, Sarah. Seriously.” He bit off a corner of the sandwich and a long, yellow string of melted cheese suspended between the bread slices and his mouth. He curled a finger around it to tug it free. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Why is it so wrong if I do?” There was a defensive quality to her tone that she hadn’t meant to express. But she cared deeply about Lance, and part of that involved being concerned about his wellbeing. It was something that couldn’t be helped.
“You don’t need to worry about me, because I can take care of myself.”
The words felt like an insult. Of course, she was well aware that Lance was a grown man who had been on his own for many years. It wasn’t like she thought he needed a woman to take care of him or anything of that antiquated nature. She justunderstood that as a couple, they were there for one another. Or should be, at least.
“I know you can take care of yourself.” Her jaw was tight, teeth set. “I wasn’t implying you couldn’t.”
They ate their lunches in silence, save for Laney’s sound effects she gave to every bite that punctuated the quiet. There was an awkwardness Sarah had never experienced with Lance. She didn’t like it. Her heart thumped within her chest like she was a teenager all over again, sitting in a class that had just been assigned a pop quiz. But now, she didn’t know any of the answers, couldn’t solve the problem of Lance’s pride and her insistence to help where it wasn’t wanted.
