Iris pulls back, biting her lip the way she does when she’s nervous.“It’s okay, I’m fine.”
I shake my head, “Take a shower, Iris. I’ll put your clothes in the washer, and you can borrow some of mine.”
She frowns. “Your clothes won’t fit me.”
“Might be a little big, but better than nothing.” She hesitates, but eventually agrees with a sigh.
“Looking good,” I say, when Iris emerges from the bedroom, my t-shirt hanging off her and sweatpants way too baggy.
She still looks damn good in my clothes.
She crosses her arms and frowns. “Shut up. The boxers didn’t fit. They kept falling.”
I can’t help the way my eyes glance down, thinking about how she doesn’t have anything on under those pants. A spark flickers in me, something deep inside liking the sound ofthat, but it’s buried underneath twenty pounds of guilt and exhaustion.
“Any other time, I’d be all over you,” I admit, watching her cheeks flush. She looks away, an attempt to hide how flustered that single comment makes her.
I guess I still got it.
“Yeah, well…” she stammers, glaring at me like she used to when I’d flirt with her and she’d act all grumpy about it.
Man, I love her.
The door creaks open, and I’m through it first, holding it wide so Alex doesn’t bump into it. He steps in behind me, moving slowly ‘cause moving still hurts. His arm is in a thick blue cast, and the bruises on his face have gone yellow around the edges, but they’re still there, not letting any of us forget.
“Watch your step,” I say, even though the floor’s clear.
I can’t stop myself.
Every part of me wants to make this easier for him. To make sure he never gets hurt again. Iris follows, carrying his bag, and I can tell she feels the same way.
“Come on, bud. Sit down before you break your other arm.”
I guide him to the couch and he lowers himself carefully, hissing as he sits down and wiggles into a spot that doesn’t hurt as much. I hover, grabbing the throw pillow off the recliner and tucking it behind him, and draping the blanket from the back of the couch over his lap.
“You good? Need another pillow? Want me to get the blanket off your bed?”
Alex gives me a tired look. “Nate, I’m okay.”
“You need your meds yet?” I ask, reaching for the orange bottle on the coffee table. “Or water? You hungry? Iris saidshe was gonna make some soup, but I can get you something different. You want McDonald’s?”
“Nate,” Alex says again, his good hand coming up to rest on the blanket. “Relax. Seriously.”
“Alright,” I sigh, dropping onto the edge of the coffee table to sit in front of him. “But you’ll let me know if you need anything, right?”
Alex nods, rolling his eyes but wincing when it hurts.
I pat his leg sympathetically.
I’m trying to be quiet, coming through the front door with bags of groceries, full of things to make some of Alex’s favorite meals. He’s been sleeping a lot, and I got him set up on the couch. But when I get into the living room, I see something that makes my breath catch.
Iris is sitting on the couch beside Alex, the TV on low in the background, but they’re not paying any attention to it. Alex has his head resting on Iris’s shoulder, and they’re both looking down at the sketchbook balanced on her lap.
She pauses every so often, tilting her head to get it right. Alex watches her draw like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
He still looks tired, but right now, there’s a calm that I haven’t seen from him since—
Relief and heartbreak are all tangled up inside me because Iris is good for him. She’s good for both of us. Alex hasn’t ever had a mother figure, other thanme.
