Her hand came up, hovering near my chest but not quite touching. “You almost died because of me,” she whispered.
I shook my head. “Because of her.”
But she already had quiet tears spilling down as she pressed her palms against her face. “Maybe,” she said. “But you didn’t think. You just stepped in front of me. And every time I look at you, I remember that moment.”
I took a step closer, careful. “Dec—”
She looked up then, her voice barely above a breath, “You don’t get it. I’m not afraid of touching you. I’m afraid of losing you.”
The next morning, I was getting restless, so I tried my luck with Margot. I went to their kitchen, “Let me help. I can cook something.” I said.
“Nope.” She brandished a wooden spoon like a sword. “Doctor’s orders. You’re officially on house arrest.” She pointed at the chair like a drill sergeant. “Sit. Look pretty. Breathe if you must. December will have my head if you so much as peel a carrot.”
I laughed, holding up my hands. “You sound just like her.”
Margot snorted. “Yeah, but my insurance doesn’t coverangry December.Last time she glared at me, the plants wilted.”
“Oh, come on,” I said. “I’m fine. Look! no limp, no dizziness. I can at least chop onions.”
“Absolutely not. The last time you held a knife, you gotshot.”
“That’s not how that happened.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Correlation, causation—whatever. I’m not risking a sequel.”
I leaned back in the chair, grinning. “You realize you’re being dramatic, right?”
“Oh, I learned from the best,” she said, waving the spoon in my direction. “You and December could win Oscars for overreacting. You take a bullet, she bans you from standing too fast.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Fine. But if I’m gonna sit here useless, at least give me a taste test.”
Margot pointed the spoon at me again. “Not a chance. December saidno salt, no spice, no stress.Basically, your diet is sadness.”
I groaned. “You two are tyrants.”
She grinned. “We prefer the termcaretakers with style.”
I chuckled and sat down, but before I could say anything, Margot suddenly pulled me into a soft hug and she whispered, her voice shaky, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get over my fear of hospitals and be there.”
I pressed my chin against her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Margot. I know.”
She sniffled, pulling back just enough to look at me. “I love you so much, son.”
“I love you too,” I said, smiling. “Does this mean—”
“No,” she cut in quickly, wiping at her eyes and stepping back like nothing happened. “Don’t get sentimental.Dec has already called me three times to make sure you’re breathing.”
“She called me four times,” I muttered.
“Oh, poor you,” Margot teased, her voice soft. “Sotragicallyloved.”
I tried to smile but it faltered. “She never says it, you know? Not out loud. She says it in every look and every act, even sometimes when she thinks I am asleep.”
Margot’s teasing faded, her eyes warm with something gentler. “Give her time, sweetheart. She’s been seeing her therapist more lately. She’s trying harder than you know. You scared the life out of her. That kind of fear doesn’t go away overnight.”
Her words settled in my chest, heavy but steadying. That night I called Jan.
"What's up, Ryder?" she answered, sounding distracted.
