I turned my attention back on her, my eyes catching onto a nasty bruise on her hip, peeking out under her shirt. I didn’t think. I stepped forward, grabbing the hem of her top. Maybelle tried to retreat but was already sandwiched between me and the wall.
“Trey, wha—?” she gasped out, but I was already lifting her shirt so I could clearly inspect the angry purpling mark on her hip.
God, she would’ve had to hit her side stupid hard to get a bruise that dark.
My focus fell back on her face as I stood to my full height, the anxiety and fear in me mingling intosomething ugly. “That doesn’t answer my question, Maybelle. What the hell are you doing in there?”
She was watching me quietly; her breathing heavy as she stared up at me. Her blue-green eyes moved down to look at the hand still holding her shirt up and my thumb that now subconsciously swiped back and forth across the dark mark. When her eyes returned, they narrowed. Her hand slipped up between us, pressing against my chest until I was backing away, dropping her shirt.
She shrugged, while a sarcastic grin tightened across her pale face. “I’m practicing.”
“Practicing what, gymnastics?” My hands trembled, wanting to grab for her again. I forgot to check her head and make sure she didn’t hit it in her fall.
She quirked a brow at my irritated tone, her smile falling. “It’s good to see you too, Trey.”
Shit…
She sighed, turning in past the doorway. “Tell Chelsea I’ll be out for dinner in a few minutes.” And she shut the door in my face.
It was about ten minutes later when Maybelle emerged from her room. She had changed out of her sweat-drenched clothing into black sweats and a forest green, crop top, tank that made her eyes appear more viridescent. Her hair had been taken out of the tight ponytail and braided to the side, falling over the front of her shoulder with stray curls springing out to frame her face.
She was practically walking on her own, given the wall was doing a lot of the work to hold her slight frame up. I rushed to my feet when she limped out of the hallway, moving to her side and extending my arm to her.
She kept her eyes trained forward and reluctantly accepted my outstretched hand for the last few steps between the wall and the table.
She must be tired, her attention and hold on me being so weak.
I was quickly corrected when Maybelle saw mom. She glowed brightly with an enthusiastic smile. “Chelsea, hey! Sorry I haven’t seen much of you today.”
I pulled out the chair for Maybelle, eyeing her as she sat, still not acknowledging me. Feeling a little uneasy and, honestly, like an idiot, I cautiously took my place at the table between her and my mom
Mom’s eyes danced between us; brows pulled together. “It’s okay. I know you’ve been tired. Your body is still recovering.”
She offered Maybelle a scoop of salad. Maybelle held her plate up to accept it as she shook her head back and forth. “Oh, I wasn’t sleeping.”
Mom and I both stopped dishing up our plates. I itched to ask her what she’d been doing if not sleeping, but that previously hadn’t gone so well. So I waited for my mom to ask, “What were you doing all day if not sleeping?”
Maybelle scooped herself up some lasagna. “I’ve been practicing my exercises and stretches that Annalise taught me and making myself walk. I did take one spill over my bookshelf, which gave me a pretty cool looking bruise on my hip, but other than that, I’m really getting the hang of this whole walking thing.”
I wanted to burst. What was she doing pushing herself so hard to the point she was falling and hurting herself?
“That’s amazing, Maybelle.”
I whipped my head toward my mom, whose face split open with a proud smile. She turned that smile to me expectantly. “Don’t you think so, Trey?”
In what world could she think this was a good idea?
Maybelle turned to face me, a small, smug grin pulling at her lips, waiting for my response. I straightened in my seat, feeling like I just fell into a trap. Both women watched, waiting. Mom’s smile soon faltered while Maybelle’s grew more complacent in my silence.
“I honestly think you should have someone with you if you’re going to be pushing yourself like that,” I answered.
Maybelle propped her head on a hand. “Interesting. Well, if you’d been around to see me walk more, you’d know I have come a long way in such a short amount of time and do just fine on my own.”
I sniffed. “Yeah, tell that to your bookshelf.”
“That happened in the middle of the night when I first tried to walk on my own. I didn’t fall over the rest of the night or at all today.”
I sucked in a breath, putting together the details of her argument.
