In the bathroom, my heel sinks into a soft spot by the sink. Something’s wrong. I shift and crack; the vinyl gives way. I knew I should have fixed that.
Suddenly, my right foot shoots straight through the floor as the surface collapses under me.
I lurch forward; my hands grasp for the sink as my right leg plunges to the knee through the jagged hole. Dust rises from the break, and my shin scrapes hard against the wood. My left leg bends awkwardly, and I let out a sound somewhere between a screech owl and a yell.
Just as I stop yelling, I hear clattering from downstairs, followed by a bark and Bo calling my name.
“Falon?”
I hear his footsteps pounding up the stairs.
Rowdy appears in the doorway with Bo half a step behind him, both wearing nearly the same shocked expression. Rowdy approaches me slowly, tail low, while Bo pauses, his eyes scanning the scene. Bo has a dish towel over his shoulder and a coffee mug in his hand. He assesses the situation, sets the mug on the hallway shelf, and crosses the bathroom in two steps.
“Are you okay?” He speaks to me like I’m seven.
“Mm-hmm.” I nod, not trusting my voice.
“I’m going to get you out, but for now, don’t move,” he says. His voice is low, steady, the kind that doesn’t ask.
“Nope, wasn’t planning on it.” My voice is weak, though I try to hide that I’m shaken.
Bo tests the surrounding wood first, then plants his feet on a solid section of floor near the door, crouches down, and gets his hands around my waist. “With your other leg, can you push up?”
I nod, and as he pulls, I push. The wood groans, straining under our effort. When I’m upright, both feet on the floor, Bo’s hands are still firm at my waist, and my breath stutters, raw and ragged. My heart slams against my chest, and I’m on the edge of tears. Bo rests his forehead against mine and pulls me into a hug.
“Shh,” he consoles me. I nod into his shoulder, then step back. My shin stings, along with my pride. We step out of the bathroom, and I slide down the wall until I’m sitting. My shin looks angry.
Rowdy sniffs the hole behind us.
“Don’t even think about it,” Bo tells him. Rowdy wags his tail and retreats one inch. He’s so deeply unconvincing. I could almost see the wheels turning in his little head.
Bo looks down at my leg and crouches in front of me, his hands carefully lifting my calf, turning my leg slightly toward the light from the window.
“You’ve got a good scrape and a few splinters,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows. “Do you have a first aid kit?”
“It’s in the hall closet. Second shelf, near the back.”
I stare at the hole. I knew it was soft, I even poked it and put it on my list. But I didn’t know how to fix it. I made promises, but now I have a hole. So much for promises.
My mind spirals, cost, repair, all the things I can’t control, but I shove it down. I can’t afford panic now. One thing at a time, Falon. Right now, that means admitting I need help, even if it kills my pride.
Bo comes back with the first-aid kit and crouches in front of me. “This might sting,” he says, and opens the kit. He takes out a few things and lays them out next to my leg.
“I’ve had worse,” I say.
He looks up. “You’ve had a floor fall in on you before?”
“There was an incident in basic training. I won’t go into details, but the tower is now stronger than it was.” He’s trying to diffuse the tension with humor, and it’s working.
He looks back at my leg, something warm moving through his expression. He’s got the tweezers out, and my eyes widen. He places his hand on the back of my calf, and almost all my wits take a back seat. When he finds the first splinter, I feel the pinch, and my breath is taken fast.
“Sorry.” His voice drops to a rumble.
“It’s okay.” I squirm a bit, then watch him work. “Thank you. For all of this.”
He glances up, just for a second. His hand shifts on the back of my calf, and something in that small adjustment makes my heart pitter a little quicker.
He finds the second splinter. I wince. His grip tightens, just slightly, when I flinch.
