“Now, Fran,” Islan begins, her hands outstretched as if to placate her. “No need to get you riled up.”
“Riled up?” I ask, astounded that that’s even a question. “Of course she bloody well won’t. She’ll lie right there and obey the doctor's orders.”
Fran pushes herself up to sitting higher on the chaise, as if the adjustment in height gives her an advantage, which it definitely doesn't, especially because she winces again in pain.
"And… somewhere between me cracking my skull on the side of your tree, and you playing the hero carrying me back up to the house like some sort of… Tarzan or something," she spits out the word as if it's distasteful, “you got the idea you have some say in this?"
“I do,” I tell her. “I’ve got an errand in town tomorrow and will take you.” I want her to feel obliged to me, though I wouldn’t admit that out loud.
I can’t keep the irritation out of my voice.
“Oh, I’ll be fine,” she says, fuming. “No need to trouble yourself, clearly.” She rolls her eyes. “Honest to God, I’m no concern of yours.”
Is that what she thinks?
Islan rolls her eyes. “You’ve nearly grown up here, Fran, you know how they all are.”
She purses her lips and narrows her eyes, and I half expect her to wise off with her smart mouth again, when her head suddenly lolls to the side a little like she’s tipsy. She blinks, then blinks again. What the fuck?
“Y’alright?” Islan asks.
“Just feel a bit… a bit…” Fran giggles. “Can you hear those words, or is it in my head?”
Islan turns to me. “Oh, dear.”
Is she… high?
I look at Fran in puzzlement. She shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts. “Was just saying, I can’t bloody well skip work tomorrow. No way.”
“They’ll be fine,” Islan says with conviction. “Or I could cover for you. Your boss is so bloody distracted, she wouldn’t even notice the difference.”
I look from Fran to Islan, then back again. Islan’s tall and willowy and blonde, and Fran’s all lush brown hair and buxom curves.
“Are you fuckin’ legally blind?”
Fran gives me a reproachful look, then begins to giggle. It’s… adorable.
Islan rolls her eyes. “Oh, whatever,” she says. “I just mean I could go in and be a sort of temp for the day or something.” Leith’s said for a while the girls have been spoiled and honest to God, I didn’t see it until now. I always kind of took the girls’ side when it came to his overbearing tendencies.
I shake my head. “Leith would say no, and I’d agree with him. For Christ’s sake, you're making one stupid decision after another.” Islan’s brows snap together, but I’m not finished. “First, you decide sledding down that hill is something fun to do, even though you could've killed yourself. Second, now you want to go take a job in the city centre, knowing full well who you are and how that puts you in danger? Are you out of your bloody mind?"
“I see what you mean,” Fran mutters, giving Islan a sympathetic look.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“Oh, nothing,” she says airily, and I swear her eyes look a bit unfocused. The doctor’s given her some heavy pain relievers, and it looks as if they've kicked in. “Only your sisters may have mentioned once or twenty times that you boys are all a bit overprotective, and I think she has a point.” For some reason, she finds this outrageously funny, and the next thing I know, herhead falls back and she snorts with laughter. Literally snorts, so loudly Islan jumps. She looks at me in alarm.
“What’d he bloody give her?”
I shrug. “Dinnae. Reckon it was something strong?”
Fran’s giggling so hard she’s tipped over to the side, tears streaming down her face. What’s so funny? I don’t bloody well know what to do with her.
“Oh, no,” Islan whispers to me. “Tate, I think she’s high off her nut with the meds the doc gave her, isn’t she?”
I look back at her, and she’s giggling something fierce.
“I think you’re right,” I mutter. “Jesus.”
