Chapter Eight
“Is this a minivan?” Nick asked after he buckled himself into the passenger seat and Sassy took her place at the wheel.
“The Bronco’s in the shop again,” she explained. “I borrowed this from a neighbor.”
He dropped the back of his head against the headrest, closing his eyes.
The muscle relaxer the doc had given him was already starting to take effect.
Drowsiness slunk in from the corners of his mind, but he clung stubbornly to wakefulness.
He wasn’t going to let Sassy carry him into her house.
“Smells like stale Cheetos and soccer cleats in here.”
“I think it smells nice.” When he slanted her a sidelong look, she shrugged and started the engine. “Beggars can’t be choosers, can they?”
She’d avoided looking him in the eye since she’d declared he and Riot were coming home with her. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Drive a minivan?”
“Keep me overnight,” he corrected. “We’re not kids anymore. I can manage on my own.”
“I don’t want you to just manage,” she said.
“I want you to get better. You want you to get better. The only way to get you to that point at the earliest opportunity is for me to take care of you. I’m sorry if you don’t like it.
” She gripped the shifter to take the van out of Park, then stopped and shook her head.
“Wait. Scratch that. I’m not sorry. You know why?
Because I love you. Even if you don’t know how to ask for help.
Even when you’re being a stubborn pain in the ass.
Even when you get in your own way. If tough love’s what you need, that’s what I’m going to give you because, damn it, I care.
I care too much to watch you suffer, and you’re going to have to learn to live with that. ”
He struggled for the right words. He struggled to speak at all. His mouth opened, closed, gaped. She’d said a lot…so much…and yet three little words kept battering that space between his brain and his ears in a mindless echo.
…I love you… I love you… I love you…
He blinked. Made himself blink again. The buzz off the cyclobenzaprine must really be sinking in, because suddenly all he could see or focus on was the striking line of her profile. The black sheen of her hair in the dash lights. The way she bit her lip, like she did when she was nervous.
Why was she nervous? His mind refused to connect the dots for him. It was too muddled.
She exhaled sharply, her shoulders settling. “I didn’t mean to lecture you.”
“It’s fine,” he said before an awkward silence entrenched itself in the cab of the minivan.
She drove to his apartment and made him sit tight as she used her key to make entry. Minutes later, she returned with Riot on a leash and a bag of his things. “Don’t worry,” she said as she rolled open the door to the middle row of seats. “I packed plenty of underwear.”
He closed his eyes and groaned. The last thing he needed was to imagine her touching his underwear. He felt Riot’s whiskers, coarse against his elbow, and slung his uninjured arm around his neck, leaning down to kiss his snoot. “Hey, boy. Miss me?”
“I got his bed, food, toys… Anything else you two kiddos need?”
“My place isn’t far from yours,” he noted. “If we need anything, we can come back.”
She rolled the passenger door closed before walking around to the driver’s door. “Ready to go home?” she turned to ask Riot affectionately.
Home. It had always been where she was, hadn’t it? As the van started rolling again, he turned his face away from hers, afraid of what might be written on it.
* * *
Sassy went through her house, Nick-proofing everything.
She’d bought the place two years ago for its potential, which meant trip hazards of paint cans and drop cloths, loose trim pieces and nail guns were strewn everywhere.
She made the males wait just inside the door while she rearranged everything.
“It’s coming along,” she observed when she was done. “Don’t you think?”
Nick’s eyelids drooped slightly from the medication, but he couldn’t hide the uncertain blip that eclipsed his face as he and Riot exchanged a look before braving the first step into her living space. “It’s…something,” he said.
She yanked a paint cloth off the sofa and piled it in an empty corner. “Come on. I got the crown molding up. I finished painting the kitchen and dining rooms. That was a bitch.”
“Maybe because you changed your mind about the colors after you started rolling?” he ventured, peering into the dining room on the right. He stopped in his tracks, letting go of Riot’s leash. “Wow.”
She came to stand next to him, crossing her arms as she admired the black-and-white chevron pattern she’d rendered there.
It complemented the black trim pieces, the white tiles and the dark tabletop she’d paid way too much for at a yard sale.
“I thought about curtains, but I like all the light that comes through the front window.” Said window took up the entire north wall.
She glanced at him. “What do you think?”
His mouth fumbled for a moment. When he finally strung words together, his voice was a stunned whisper. “Sassy. You did amazing.”
She pressed her lips together to hide a wide grin. “Don’t flatter me.”
“When do I ever lie you?”
She narrowed her eyes. “How drunk are you right now?”
He hedged, avoiding her insightful stare.
She pursed her lips. “Sit down. Take a load off. I’ll get you something to eat.”
“I don’t need—”
“Nick,” she warned, setting his bags near the hall that led to both bedrooms. “You’re on heavy medication. You need something to eat.”
As he sank to a chair at the table, he lifted his ACE-wrapped hand. The RN at the hospital had kept the wrap loose to accommodate his swelling. “Do you have anything that doesn’t involve a fork or spoon?”
She frowned, realizing that he had injured his dominant arm, and cursed under her breath as she walked into the adjoining kitchen. That would make his recovery that much more challenging.
She and her cousins had spent several weekends knocking out the kitchen’s west wall so she could expand the space, adding an island and a pantry and room enough for more than one person to work around the stove, sink and prep areas.
Not that she cooked overmuch. And not that she didn’t live alone or planned on changing that.
Yet when she’d seen the place for the first time, she’d wanted the kitchen to be big enough for her whole family—not just her mother, father and grandparents but her aunts, uncles and cousins, too.
She’d pictured herself hosting Thanksgivings, raising a glass to her aunts as they huddled over the stove and joining her cousins and Nick in a game of touch football in the big, sprawling backyard while her uncles sipped brewskies on the patio around the Weber.
She opened both doors of the fridge and observed her options.
Takeout containers populated the space. Nick had suggested she start writing the dates of origin on top of them so she no longer had to guess how long the entrées had been residing in her fridge.
Still, she made sure to sniff the contents as she took out boxes and set them on the count-er.
She filled a plate with crab rangoons from the Chinese place, stuffed mushrooms from that little restaurant on the corner of Fig Street that both she and Nick frequented, and chicken wings she’d snatched from the Sauce Spot for lunch that afternoon.
In the junk drawer, she snagged some Wet Ones for wing-related cleanups.
He still had a thing for milk, so she poured him a glass and took his meal to the table.
His head lay on his good arm on the table in a defeated posture she couldn’t stand to see. “If you don’t cheer up, Malone, I’m going to have to start flossing.”
“Flossing?”
“Yeah, you know…” She started to execute the dance move in a flurry of arms and hips.
He raised his head, half smiling, half wincing as he watched her through the haze of sedatives and bemusement. “I’m not sure it works like that…”
“Then show me how it’s done, Nick,” she countered without stopping. She threw in the Humpty because it felt right and she was determined to cheer him up.
His smile strengthened. He broke into a laugh. “You’re insane.”
She gave in, gripping the back of a chair to catch her breath. “Damn, I’m out of shape.”
His chuckle faded away as his thoughts weighed on him again. “I forgot about my mom.”
“What about your mom?” she asked, nudging his plate toward him.
“I promised to bring Riot back tomorrow. Some of the residents were in PT when I took him to River House this morning and missed out on their pet therapy session.”
“What time?” she asked.
“Eight a.m.”
She waved a hand. “I’ve got that.”
“Sassy, you can’t do everything.”
“Nick,” she countered. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. The gallery doesn’t open until ten. If I get tied up at River House with Riot, Soledad can open for me. It’s no big deal. I can give Margot the quilt my mom made for her and take Riot to the dog park after his session to stretch his legs.”
Nick sighed. “You’re taking on way too much for me.”
“I didn’t wake up today to be meek,” she declared. “What makes you think tomorrow will be any different?”
“You’re incredible,” he murmured, eyes softening on her as they had in the ER. “You always have been.”
She swallowed when her bones began to melt and forced herself to look away so she could tear open the little packages of Wet Ones. “Be a good boy and eat your takeout.”
Nick nodded at the offerings. “The best Dark Canyon has to offer.”
“I thought so.” He had propped his wrapped hand on the edge of the table. She resisted the urge to trail her fingers along the back of it in a caress. “Does it still hurt?”
“It’s the swelling that’s driving me crazy,” he admitted.