He glared at me.
“When you heard about James, all you kept saying was that I needed to let people help me. ‘Move home,’ ‘Let Dylan help you find a place to live,’ ‘Let Grace help with job search,’ ‘Let Maeve help with Aaron,’ and ‘Let us help.’” I scooted closer to the bed. “You wanted to be there to support me. Now, tell me what makes you so great that you can’t accept the same support and help.” I stood and put my hands on my hips. “I could've done it without any help. But I tell you what…it was a lot easier and less lonely with all of you hovering around.”
“So, I was right?” He smirked. “You needed us to help you?”
“If you weren’t already in a hospital bed, I’d put you in one, you pain in my ass.” I threw up a hand. “Of course, you ‘being right’ was what you got out of the conversation.” I shook my head. “No. It was that I could’ve done it alone, but you convinced me to accept help from the people who cared about me.”
With eyes hidden under thick lashes, he peered up at me. “I hate when you turn my words around on me to make a point.”
I held his hand of the non-injured arm. “So, how about we do each other a favor? How about you become my lean-to person again, and I’ll become yours—at least until Riley comes back home.”
He squeezed my hand gently.
“Maybe by spending time with each other again, we can find a way to make up for those years we’ve lost.”
“Man. You are really giving me the hard sell,” he said, his speech getting slurred and his movements slow. He was exhausted.
“Is it working?” I squeezed his hand.
“Will you bake those cookies for me?”
“Um, sure…but I thought you just said you had to watch what you ate during the season. I’m not going to be your dietitian?—”
He shook his head. “I guess I’m not playing for a while, so to hell with it. Throw in the cookies, and you’ve got yourself a deal.” He leaned back on his pillow with a satisfied, cat-who-at-the-canary expression and closed his eyes. “You can take care of me.”
“Well, we know there isn’t anything wrong with your ego. I guess that’s a good sign.” I let go of his hand, sarcasm lacing my words. “Alright, I’m going to go”—I stood and slung my tote over my shoulder—“and let you rest. I’ll call tomorrow to see if they are going to let you leave.”
He rolled his head my way, wincing slightly. “Hey, Kelce?—”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you. I’m…I’m glad you were here.”
“Me too, big guy.” I closed my eyes before he could see how close those words were to dragging tears of relief from me. Unsure how to hug him without hurting his shoulder, I leaned forward, giving him a quick kiss on his forehead, like the affectionate ones he used to give me when I was upset. “We’ll have you juking linebackers before you know it.”
As I walked to the door, I added, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” The hope of salvaging our friendship had me turning, and without even thinking about it, I added the familiar words, “And don’t worry, we got this.”
11
Shaw
Dylan and I had time to catch up on our drive to town without anyone else around. He gave me an unfiltered update on Kelcie and Aaron and how they were handling things.
“This is perfect. You'll be a good distraction for her.”
“Dylan—”
“I mean, she could be helpful to you with rehabbing your injury and policing you from pushing yourself too fast. But you could also distract her from the crap her ex is pulling,” he said, throwing on his turn signal as he merged off the highway and onto a main street leading into the downtown area.
I sat up straighter. “Like what?”
Dylan glanced over at me. “Just divorce crap. Jerking her around about living up here and his visitations with Aaron.”
“So, James is being more of a dick than usual,” I mumbled, surveying our town for any changes since I’d been back.
Dylan grunted in affirmation. “Honestly, I think her stress comes from trying to hold in her aggravation so Aaron doesn’t pick up on it.”
“How is Aaron?”
