“That would be wonderful – thank you.”He swung his legs over the side of the bed.Yeah, much better than the last two days.He was going to have to find a balance between pushing just enough and pushing too far.
“I bring it to you?”She pulled the walker over in tiny little increments.“I bring it to Dad!”
“You’re doing a great job.Just make sure you don’t bash it into my legs, okay?”He leaned against the bed, ready to grab the sides of it as soon as it was in range to help her not hit him with it.
“No hitting.Hitting is bad.”She tugged and pulled, lips tight.
“That’s right.Hitting is always bad.”Even if he did want to grab a hammer and take it to every breakable thing in the house and scream about how unfair life was.
She got the walker close enough he could grab it, and he beamed at her as he settled it in front of him.
“What a big help you were, Tori, thank you.”
Oh, look at that smile.It lit her face up, and he had to grin at her.“Welcome!”
“Let’s go find Daddy.”He clomped along, a little gently at first, but his leg didn’t protest too much.Maybe he’d just overdone it some and not wrecked anything.He hoped that was the case.
Ian was on the sofa, washcloth over his eyes, Peter playing with building blocks on the floor in front of him.
He watched for a moment, trying to stay quiet.“You okay?”he asked softly – if Ian was sleep that wasn’t likely going to wake him.
“What’s wrong?”Ian sat up in a rush.“Did the kids bother you?”
Peter went to hide behind the sofa.
He sighed at Peter’s reaction to seeing him.Damn it.“No, I’m fine.You’re the one who’s got a headache, right?I came to see if I could help.”
“Oh.”Ian blinked at him, eyes red-rimmed.“Please.Do you mind watching the babies with me?I need a pill.”
He moved to sit in the easy chair next to the couch.“Tada!Ready to watch the kids.Hey, Petey, you want to show me what you were building?I won’t bite, I promise.”He wasn’t going to yell, either.
Peter stayed behind the sofa, and Ian just picked him up and plopped him on the couch on his way to the medicine cabinet.
“You can play blocks?”Tori asked him.
“Well, if we put them on the coffee table, I could.”He was pretty sure he could get down on the floor, but he wasn’t so sure he’d be able to get back up again.
“Come.”Tori stared at Peter, pointed to the floor, and Petey glared.
“No.”
“You could come and sit with me,” JP offered, patting his lap.“I might need some help building.It’s been a long time since I played with blocks.”
Peter stared at him, and he forced himself to be chill.He’d faced defenders and referees and angry coaches — surely he could deal with a four-year-old with hurt feelings.
He gave Peter a half smile.“It would really help me if you would.”
Peter frowned deeply.“No yells, okay?”
He nodded.“Yeah, no yells.I’m sorry I yelled before.I was hurting pretty hard.”
“Hims sick, brudder.Himssosick.”
Peter burst into tears.“I sorry!”
“No, no.You don’t have to cry!Please!I know you didn’t mean it.I know you’re sorry.”He sighed, feeling like a horrible human being.“I’m sorry.”
Peter came to him and climbed up, hugging him tight.“You okay.Poor, poor Dad.I hold you.”
