Well Met(28)

“Of course I was. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Good. That’s what I was hoping for.” Her voice was cheerful, but her smile was tight, and when I glanced at her I noticed her limp had become pronounced very quickly.

“Okay, you’re trying too hard. Here—” I ushered her to a nearby bench and made her sit. “Stay there, I’ll get the car.”

“I’m sorry.” She pressed her lips together hard; I could see white around them. “I thought I could make it.”

“You could,” I said. “And you did. It’s just making it back that’s the problem. Now wait here.” I jogged down to get the Jeep and drove back to where she sat. I threw the Jeep into park and got out to help her in, but she waved me off.

“I can do it myself.”

I recoiled a little at her snapping tone. “I know. I’m just—” But I stood aside and let her get in on her own. I bit back a sigh as I got behind the wheel, and we drove off in silence. Same as ever.

“Sorry,” she finally said about halfway home. I glanced over in time to see her hunch forward, burying her face in her hands. Her dark brown curls cascaded around her head. “God, I can be a bitch, huh?”

“It’s okay. You just overdid it. Don’t worry. I won’t tell your PT. Or your doctor.”

“God, please don’t. They’ll make me put that damn boot back on.” She was quiet for a moment, and I almost reached over to turn on the radio when she spoke again. “I’ve been meaning to thank you.”

“For what?” I kept my eyes on the road. The air between us was too charged for me to look at her.

“For everything. Moving in, helping out. You’ve been here almost four months, and I haven’t thanked you nearly enough. You dropped everything for Cait and me.”

I shrugged. “There wasn’t much to drop. Besides, that’s what I do, isn’t it? Drop everything. Help people. Fix things.” My laugh was a little more bitter than I wanted it to be. “At least it was for family this time, instead of a guy.”

“Hey.” She reached out and laid her hand over mine on the gearshift. Squeezed a little, and I felt that squeeze in my heart. “What he did was shitty. An absolute douche move. That’s not . . .” She blew out a breath. “You shouldn’t be treated like that. Ever. Not by that dickhead you lived with, and not by me. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It was a good thing we were almost home because I had to blink hard to see the road.

“It’s not,” she insisted. “You’ve done so much for us these past few months, and you don’t know how much I appreciate it. And that’s my fault.” She waved off my protest before I could even voice it. “These appointments are kicking my ass, but I’m doing my best. The sooner I’m better and back to work, the sooner I can get my life back. And then maybe we can figure out yours.”

“Trying to get rid of me, huh? I guess you want your guest room back.” I was joking, but my stomach dropped as soon as the words came out of my mouth. Maybe she did want me gone. Wanted her life back. “I’ll figure something out. I can probably get an apartment or something. I don’t have much saved yet, but hopefully soon I can . . .”

“Are you kidding?” April cut through my babble. “Stay as long as you want.”

I kept my eyes on the road. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do. You’re here through the end of the summer with Faire anyway, right? And Cait loves having you around. There’s no rush.”

“Okay.” I sighed and turned into our neighborhood. Not just April’s neighborhood. Ours. I liked the sound of that. “Okay. You’re right. Things are going to get pretty busy soon.”

There was a pink balloon tied to the mailbox. I registered it out of the corner of my eye as I pulled into the driveway. I wanted to turn my head to look back at it, but I also didn’t want to ram into the side of the house. “What the hell is that?”

“What is what?” April looked over her shoulder and shrugged. “Oh, probably something Caitlin’s doing. Can you come help me out of the car?”

I narrowed my eyes as I walked around the front of the Jeep. She never needed help out, and if she did she never admitted it, even when she was back in her hard-cast-with-crutches days. But I forgot about the balloon as I helped April out and we hobbled up the front walk together.

“Okay,” I said once I’d unlocked the door. “Let’s get you inside and on the couch, and I’ll get dinner started—what the hell?”

The dining room looked like it was on fire: all the lights were on, and multicolored, while flames blazed merrily. But then I realized the colors were from balloons tied to the chandelier over the dining room table. The flames were birthday candles on a cake sitting beside a pizza box. Dinner had been taken care of. And my birthday hadn’t been forgotten. Next to a small pile of inexpertly wrapped gifts—probably by Caitlin—were a handful of birthday cards in colorful envelopes.

“Surprise!” Caitlin jumped out from the kitchen.

“Yeah, surprise.” April wrapped an arm around my shoulders as I turned to her with wide eyes. She laughed at my stunned expression. “Did you really think we’d forget your birthday?”