Walking into the kitchen, I see Willow on the floor holding a towel to her hand. The blood stain grows as she turns it over, exposing a gash across her palm.
“Jesus, Willow, are you okay?” I take a few hurried steps towards her. Reaching for her wrist, I carefully pull it towards me so I can look at the wound.
“I’m fine, I slipped. It’s just a scratch,” she protests, keeping her voice light.
“Willie, that’s more than a scratch; that’s a full on laceration,” Carter presses, his tone quickly becoming serious when he sees her hand. “Move, Miles, let me see.”
He shoulders me out of the way and takes her hand into his, gently flattening her fingers so he can get a better look. Sure enough, there’s a deep gash in the center of her palm that’s threatening to drip blood on the floor.
“Do you have the first aid kit in your truck?” he asks, looking at me over his shoulder.
“Always do. It’s behind the passenger seat.”
“Perfect. Let’s go, Willie. We need to deal with that before it gets infected.”
She rolls her eyes at him and tries to pull her hand away but he doesn’t let go. “I just need a Band-Aid; it’s really not that bad.”
“Noarguing,” Carter demands, punctuating each word for impact. They hold one another’s glare for a beat before she rolls her eyes and lets him help her to her feet.
“Fine. But absolutely no stitches. I’m not letting you operate on me on the back of Miles’s truck.”
“Would you stop being difficult and let me help you?”
“Would you stop being so overbearing and overprotective for once?” she shoots back, narrowing her eyes at him. Her bright red hair swishes behind her and she shakes her head to free her bangs from the tip of her lashes.
“Of you?Never.”
“You’re so annoying,” she groans as they walk down the hall.
“I wouldn’t need to be if you weren’t so reckless,” I hear Carter say before they’re out of earshot.
Ivy and I shake our heads at the two of them and work to clean up the mess and set the table. Not one for change, the plates and silverware are where they always are and the typical home-cooked meal is sitting on the stovetop ready to be consumed. The lingering scent of vanilla and cinnamon hangs in the air as it always has since I was a boy. It was one of the first things I noticed when I first got here. How even theairfelt like comfort and safety.
“So, how are youreallydoing?” Ivy tips her eyes up at me as she places an old ceramic plate down on the table. It came from the thrift store like half her house has because, as she likes to say, everything has a past and a story to tell us if we shut up long enough to hear them. The plate has a thin crack down the center that I’m sure will break it in two if you press down too hard on it but it still makes me wonder how the crack got there.
“Like I told you before, I’m?—”
“I’m gonna stop you right there before you use that damn F word again because I know you’re anything butfine,” she snaps, popping her hip and resting a hand on it for impact. “You look like you have the whole world sitting on your shoulders right now.”
I shake my head at her and pull my shoulders back. “Idonotlook like that. It’s been a long week at the firehouse and?—”
“Can someone please explain to me why Willow is outside screaming on the back of Miles’s truck like Carter’s trying to cut her hand off?”
Coop’s voice travels down the hallway and Ivy and I both turn to see him reach the kitchen.Saved by the newcomer, thank god.The distinct sound of paws padding across the floor come with him and it’s not long before Coop’s police dog, Lola, trots into the kitchen.
“You didn’t ask them yourself before coming in?”
“I find that it’s best to steer clear of her when she’s screaming like that.” He shrugs, pushing his lips into a frown.
“Well, your darling little sister slipped and cut her hand open. Carter hauled her ass outside to patch it up. I’m assuming he’s trying to force her to let him give her stitches,” I explain, stepping towards him and pulling him into a hug. Being a working dog, Lola parks it on her butt beside my best friend and waits for him to give her the okay to get some love. Once he releases her, she runs to Ivy and happily accepts her baby talk and frantic pets. He and Willow started joining our Sunday family breakfasts after their dad passed away a few years ago.
“I mean, he’s trained in first aid and was a paramedic before becoming a fireman. Don’t see what she’s putting up such a fight about,” Coop gruffs. Then, he gives me a loving smack on the shoulder. “How ya holding up?”
I groan instinctively.
“See, I told you it looked like you were carrying something heavy,” I hear Ivy mumble under her breath behind me.
Everyone knows about what happened earlier thissummer and the toll it’s had on me. They understand how seriously I take the health and safety of the people I command and losing one of them on the job…it changed me. I wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows before, but after the accident it’s as if there’s a perpetual dark cloud hovering above my head. Like a darkness had burrowed into me and no matter how much I try to act like it isn’t there, my family still sees it. And much to my dismay, they won’t let it be. Before I can be pestered with more questions, Carter and Willow come barreling into the kitchen, arguing like two little kids on the playground.
