Chapter 22
Renleigh
I need everyone to get out of my way. I just need this house empty for one minute so I can think.
My fingers sink into my temples, rubbing tight circles to fend of the migraine itching to take me out.
Hunter is lifting my father’s favorite chair the way a child hugs an enormous stuffed animal and carries it around.
All I can think is, he’s going to hurt himself and not be able to play for Texas this weekend.
Plus, he still hasn’t explained the bandage wrapped around his left hand.
Lindsey says it’s on the knuckles and he probably punched someone, but I don’t think he’d be stupid enough to do that after getting called up.
“I don’t think it will be a problem to fit the ottoman in here, Renleigh.” Hunter wipes his brow and moves to the next piece of furniture for the fourth time so my father can relax, though his leg is going to be in a cast for six to eight months.
“I just don’t know,” I say, staring at the space to imagine how it’s all going to work.
It’s not the chair. Or the bed. Or that we’re regressing back to the wheelchair because he can’t drag a cast on a walker, and he was making so much progress. It’s none of that, but it’s all of that. And it’s the fact if I were here, maybe it wouldn’t have happened.
“Hey, let’s take a break,” Hunter says after setting the ottoman in place. He’s right. There’s plenty of room.
“I don’t have time for breaks,” I bite out.
I spin in the room, my eyes darting to my sister, who is leaning against the staircase banister while snapping off a piece of carrot between her teeth. It’s the most annoying sound ever. I’m pretty sure she knows it, too.
“Are you going to help?” I hold out my open palms, and she shakes with a silent, single laugh.
“Absolutely not. You’re a tornado.” She snaps off another bite and smiles as she chews with tight lips.
I glower at her, and Hunter palms my shoulders and redirects me to the sofa, forcing me to sit. He’s probably right. I’m on edge. But also, he’s leaving, so what does any of this matter?
“Do you want me to get your dad in here and we can see how this works out? I can help him. You just sit, maybe manage the situation from here, huh?” He covers my balled hands with his massive palm, stopping me from fidgeting. My gaze flies to his.
“My mom didn’t know what to do. She still doesn’t. She’s just sitting in there at the kitchen table, making important phone calls while he sits in his wheelchair and waits for her to get done with her oh-so-vital work,” I scoff.
Hunter chuckles, which sets me off even more.
“Stop it. You know I’m right,” I snap, getting to my feet. He grabs my hand before I make it a full step away, and despite my best effort to finagle my grip away from his, I’m forced to pause and meet his gaze.
“This was not your fault,” he says.
I blink without breathing as I stare into his eyes. I don’t believe him, but also, I don’t think it was only my fault.
“I wasn’t here, Hunter. And she had no idea what to do. He just lay there, by the tub, waiting for the medics to come and help. Because she sent the home health nurse home. She wanted to help him bathe on his own, and then—”
“She wanted to try. And your dad is a grown-ass man, Renleigh. I don’t think he tried hopping into that tub just because she told him to. Falls happen.”
Hunter takes a deep breath, and I match it with my own on reflex. It helps calm my nerves, but tears threaten to break through again, so I glance to the floor between us. I’d rather be angry.
“Falls can be prevented,” I murmur as he pulls me into his embrace.
Fuck. Now I’m crying.
“Probably. But we’re here now, and the doctors said he’ll heal. And it won’t set his recovery back more than a few months. He just needs to do other things to keep his strength and coordination improving. He will. Your dad is anything but lazy.”
I shake with a small laugh.
“He’s a little lazy,” I tease.
Hunter’s soft laughter vibrates in his chest as he sways with me in his arms.
Lindsey passes through the living room and pops the end of her carrot into her mouth “I’m gonna get Dad. You two work out whatever—” She swirls her finger in our direction.
I lean out of Hunter’s embrace when her back is to me, then arch a brow at him.
“I hope she chokes on that thing,” I say under my breath, which makes him laugh even harder.
“Okay, settle down. The last thing you need is another medical emergency. Also, I threw the rest of the carrots away outside, so she won’t be getting another.” He smiles down at me, and I rise on my tiptoes to kiss him with my own grin.
“Bless you, Hunter Reddick.”
My sister wheels our father into the room, and my mom lingers behind, holding her laptop in one hand while bouncing her gaze between the present world needing her full attention and whatever important work is on the screen.
“Let me try . . . to do it . . . on my own,” my father says, swatting my sister’s hand away. Lindsey grimaces at him but backs off after rolling her eyes at me.
“I’m just going to stand close as a precaution, if that’s cool with you, Dale?
” Hunter doesn’t wait for my father to say no, stepping within a quick grasp of my father as his forearms flex with his own weight.
He manages to move himself from the wheelchair to the edge of the upright chair he’s going to have to deal with for the next several months.
He scoots himself back, then pulls the strap fixed to his cast to lift his full right leg up to the ottoman.
He looks utterly ridiculous sunk into the chair and not scooted back completely, but he folds his hands over his belly and looks up at me with such pride, I can’t help but clap.
“You did it on your own, all right. How’s the fit?” I glance from him to the TV, which, thankfully, he can see from this spot in the room.
“I’m miserable, but it . . . will do,” he jokes.
“I think we’ll manage just fine,” my mom says, setting her laptop down on the ottoman next to my father’s feet and leaning over him to kiss the top of his head.
I stare at the scene for a bit, fully aware of the disgust weighing down the corners of my eyes and mouth.
“I’m going to the store to get a few things. I’ll be back,” I say. “Lindsey, you staying for dinner?” My fuse is already short from the fact my sister isn’t paying attention to me, but rather is staring at the stupid social media apps on her phone.
I snap my fingers and she glances up.
“Huh?” She clearly didn’t hear me. Her face is devoid of absolutely every emotion. She’s basically here to take up space.
I shake my head. “Never mind. Just go home,” I say, heading out the door.
“No, wait. I’m sorry.” She rushes to catch up to me, pushing her phone into her back pocket before snagging her purse from the hook on the coat rack.
“You stay here. I’ll go get some easy stuff for dinner. I just wanted to know if you’d be staying, is all.” She gives me a blank look but then shakes her head, almost as if she’s a robot needing a reboot.
I lean in close.
“Is something going on?” I ask, breathing in to see if she’s drunk or something. She smells fine, though, and I know she drove Dad and me home from the hospital an hour ago.
“I got some upsetting news,” she says, quickly snapping her mouth shut, as if she regrets speaking the words in the first place.
“What’s going on?” I pry.
My sister’s expression deflates, but her wry smile comes back into play.
“I’m not laying one more burden on you, Ren,” she says with a short laugh.
“Oh, come on. I mean, what’s one more thing, right?” An exhausted half smile hits my lips as I loop my arm with hers. “Let’s go. We’ll hit the store together.”
I nod to Hunter and he winks softly, signaling he’ll handle things here while we’re gone. Of everyone in this house, I trust him the most. In less than a month, he’s become dependable.
And he’s leaving.
I stuff the sick feeling eating up my stomach back down and turn my attention to my sister as I drag her out the door with me to the Jeep.
We both hop in, and after she buckles her safety belt, she tosses her phone in my lap.
It’s a text string with a number I don’t recognize, and there’s a set of digital photos at the end.
“What is this?” I glance at her with a squirrely expression.
“Just open them,” she says, her voice suddenly monotone.
I look back at her phone screen cradled in my palm and open the first photo, zooming in to be sure that my eyes aren’t lying to me. Unfortunately, they aren’t. Her husband, Brandon, is in a full-on lip lock with a woman who is very clearly not my sister.
“Oh, Linds,” I sigh out.
“Yeah, I’ve had a feeling for a while,” she says, stretching her hand toward me and flipping through the photos on her screen. They’re all with the same woman, but the clothes change, which means the days change. The one thing that doesn’t is my sister’s husband is having an affair.
“Hey, on the bright side, if you leave his ass and move back home, the two of us can bunk in our old room again, just like when we were kids.” I slap her phone back into her open palm, and she puffs out a hard laugh.
“What’s sad is, that really is the bright side. For both of us.” She squeezes my hand in silent acknowledgement of my own aching heart.
Lindsey knows it was hard to open myself up to feeling for someone. She also knows when Hunter takes off for Texas, I’ll lock down my heart so it never feels again.