End of Story(52)

“How are you feeling?” asked Cleo with a disposable coffee cup in hand.

“Like I got hit by a car.”

“Funny thing.” Tore sat in the armchair. “We almost lost you last night.”

“It’ll take more than a hatchback to end me.”

“That’s very manly of you,” said Cleo.

Tore nodded. “Personally, I insist on getting taken out by nothing less than a Humvee.”

“Don’t even joke about it.” Cleo leveled a finger on him. “I mean it, Tore.”

“Sorry,” he said, chastened.

I sat at the dining table with my laptop open in front of me. Nothing like dealing with my clients’ trolls on a Sunday morning. After taking screen shots of the nasty comments for the business owner, I blocked their asses. Yay for job satisfaction.

Tore shook his head. “You look a damn mess.”

“I think the new scar on your face is very sexy, pirate.” I smiled. “Just in case you’re after my opinion.”

“I agree,” said Cleo. “The whole look says hot wounded buccaneer to me.”

Lars’s lips twitched.

Tore just sniffed. “What happened with the police?”

“Couldn’t give them much. I honestly didn’t see a damn thing,” said Lars. “Too busy trying to remember what kind of wine you’d asked me to pick up. I was about to pull out my phone and text you when it happened. But I had the right of way and there was a camera installed at that intersection so they should get whoever hit me.”

“Good.”

I shook my head. “You should have seen what was left of the shirt. It’s a wonder you’re still in one piece.”

Lars grunted and shifted in the chair. I jumped to my feet to help, but his cranky face stopped me. Big yikes. He slowly rose and made his way across the room. As soon as he attempted to reach down for his bag and lift it, his hand clutched at his side. The gasping wheeze noise that came out of him was horrible.

“Would you just ask for help for once?” Tore got to his feet, grabbed the bag, and followed after him. “Stubborn asshole.”

The brothers disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door. Guess Lars was over the black silk and needed some assistance getting dressed. Fair enough.

“Is it just me or does he wear that robe really well?” asked Cleo.

“Oh, yeah.” I nodded. “Half of his clothes went in the trash and the other half in the wash. It was the only thing I owned that would fit him.”

“Has he been in that mood all morning?”

“You mean like sunshine?”

“Yes,” she said. “Except the opposite.”

“Mmm.”

She sipped her drink. “Do you need to be at the shoot with the coffee trucks on Wednesday?”

“Yeah. There’s some things I need to go over with the owner and I was planning on making some behind the scenes videos. But Lars should be fine to be on his own for a while by then. He hasn’t had any dizziness or anything else to suggest a traumatic brain injury. The ribs, wrist, and hip seem to have taken the brunt of the impact.”

“How are you?”

“Good. He woke up once in pain during the night and I got him his meds and helped him to the bathroom. Other than that I slept well. Though the dude does take up a lot of room.”

She gazed at me over the rim of her coffee cup. “Tore called his parents last night. He told them Lars was okay, but they’re coming back today on an earlier flight. His mom is pretty upset, apparently.”

“Understandably.”

“They should be here around five.”

My eyes opened wide. “Here as in here?”

“That’s right. They’ve already got someone picking them up from the airport and we’ve got dinner with my folks so...”

“Parents. Wow.”

“I’m sure they’re good people. Tore has a lot of respect for them.” Her smile gentled. “Relax, Susie. They’re going to love you.”

“Sure. Right. It’ll be fine.”

I answered the door late in the afternoon to a slender woman with a long gray bob. Behind her stood a handsome man with a short gray beard. Lars and Tore took after their father. But they had their mother’s blue eyes.

“You must be Susie,” said Lars’s mother with a tight worried smile. “I’m Deborah and this is my husband, Henning.”

“Nice to meet you.” I stepped back. “Come in. Please.”

And behind Lars’s parents stood Aaron. Because they were all that damn close, apparently. Awesome. He nodded stiffly. “Susie.”

I said nothing.

Deborah and Henning went straight to their son. Lars was propped up in the chair watching a sports channel. There might be people out there who were worse at being sick. But it was doubtful. The man refused to stay in bed. It was only his pain tolerance that kept him in the armchair instead of being up and about. While they gave him the good stuff at the hospital, the pain relief they sent him home with was far less effective.

Deborah carefully kissed the unhurt side of his face. “I’ve been so worried.”

“Son,” said Henning, with a frown. They had the same frown. For some reason, this was charming.