I reach across the table and put my hand over his. I don’t squeeze, and I don’t offer a sad smile. ‘You’re allowed to be fed up with him.’
He shoots me a look that is entirely too old for his face. ‘I wish he’d treat me like a normal wee arsehole brother. But he can’t let his guilt go.‘ David speaks lightly, but there’s an edge to his voice.
‘I guess some people can’t stop seeing a certain version of you.’ I’m meeting that old-soul look of his.
‘Could be. Am I thrilled to be using a wheelchair? Not really. It was a struggle, aye. I’m just living my life. It’s not how I thought it would go, but I worked hard and now I’m thriving, and I’m fucking tired of proving it to him.’
His mobile stutters against the table. David peers at the screen, and his face softens in a way I haven’t seen before.
‘Oooh… Who’s that?’
‘Och, naebody, ballet girl.’ But he can’t keep the teeth-flashing grin off his face.
‘Girlfriend?’
‘Something like that.’ He texts back, pockets the phone, and studies his Scrabble tiles. ‘Enough of feelings. Back to war.’
‘Iliac,’ I say and put my letters down. ‘Pertaining to the ilium. The bone you’re currently resting your smugness on. Triple word score.’
David drags the heel of his hand down his face, pulling his lower lip with it. ‘You’re a menace.’
‘I’m a dancer. We’re vicious when it comes to anatomy.’
I look up and catch Scottie leaning against the doorframe. There’s an unguarded look on his face that hooks into a tender spot I wasn’t aware of until now. I want to cross the room and hug him. I want to know how his mouth feels.
And not because he is safe, although he is, but because he is Scottie.
‘Game over!’ Erin shouts, vaulting over the back of the sofa. ‘Dance floor is open. Off yer arses, troops!’ She cranks the volume. Pump Up The Jam.
‘Fucking hell, Erin,’ Scottie groans as he goes back to the kitchen. ‘Turn that shite down.’
‘Nae chance. Tunes are on.’ She snags my sleeve and drags me up. ‘Mon, Ava! Show us how the pros do it!’
I stumble to my feet. I’m tired, my life is a raging bin fire, and I’m wearing dirty leggings with a hole in the knee. But nobody here expects me to be perfect, and Erin has won me over in less than a day. She is fearless and exuberant and lovely. I wish I had a little sister like her.
We end up jumping around the cramped floor space, matching the nineties beat with zero coordination. Erin attempts a truly tragic version of the running man. It pulls a laugh right out of my belly. I pivot past the coffee table, catch David’s hand, and pull him into the makeshift dance floor.
‘What about a wee lift, ballet girl? Can you give me the Dirty Dancing moment I’ve been dreaming about?’
‘Not sure that’s such a good idea!’ I shout over the bass.
‘Pish. My legs may be atrophied, but I have the arms of the Hulk. You’re shitting your knickers, that’s all.’
‘Okay then, big man.’ I move in front of his chair and take a firm hold of his shoulders. He plants his hands on my waist.
‘You brace your core and lock your arms straight above your head.’ I show him what I mean. ‘On three. Ready?’
‘Born ready.’
I count, then hop. David pulls his arms up, counterbalancing me. For three seconds, he is holding me in the air. We are a circus act nobody asked for.
Then I overcorrect and lose my balance. My weight tips forward. David compensates, but the wheels give. We crash into the armchair behind us, a tangle of limbs and shrieking laughter.
David is on his back, laughing so hard no sound comes out. His face is crimson. ‘I’m gonna…’ He wheezes. ‘I’m gonna piss myself?—’
Scottie is across the room in three strides. ‘Jesus Christ!’
The colour has drained from his face. He is glaring at David and the overturned chair with a look of unadulterated terror. ‘Which one of you numpties is responsible for this?’
