Leah swiped to a video. Clara appeared on-screen, yelling his name before launching herself into a swimming pool.
The joy went out of Noah’s face.
He watched the video twice.
“I missed that.”
Leah took the phone back gently. “You didn’t miss it on purpose.”
“I wasn’t there.”
“You called her afterward. She told you the water went up her nose.”
“Do I remember that?”
“No.”
His gaze moved toward the window.
“I sent them things?”
“Every birthday,” Leah said. “Usually too expensive.”
“I did?”
“You bought Emma a keyboard after I specifically asked you not to.”
Noah’s mouth shifted. “Why?”
“Because you enjoy my suffering.”
He tried to laugh, but the sound became a wince. His hand rose toward his head.
I dimmed the bedside light.
“That’s enough screens,” I said.
“No, I want—”
“You can look later.”
His eye sharpened. “Stop telling me what to do.”
The words came out with more force than anything he had said to me since waking.
Leah looked between us.
I stepped back.
“You’re right. Sorry.”
Noah shut his eyes.
The anger drained from him as quickly as it had arrived.
“I can’t think,” he whispered. “Everything comes too fast.”
Leah touched his shoulder. “We’ll slow down.”
