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“And Porter?”
I sighed, more to myself than anything. “Yeah, Dad?”
“I love you.”
I took a deep breath in through my nose before squeezing the bridge again. “Yeah. I know.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Ok.” I pulled the phone away from my ear to hang up, but thought better of it at the last moment. I couldn’t remember the last time I told Dad I loved him. And after an event like this afternoon’s…
“I love you, Dad.”
I heard his soft, yet strained, chuckle. “I know, kid. Keep the lights low, no TV, be good to your head.”
“I will, Dad. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I ended the call and crashed back on my bed, moving so my head was on my pillow. I didn’t care that my shoes were on the comforter, but Mom probably would if she came up to retrieve her phone so, with an arm thrown over my eyes and as little movement as possible, I toed off the offenders and let them drop to the floor beside the bed.
I lay there for who knew how long, my arm over my face, my body straight and still. My head still had a restless pounding and the slightest movements caused flashes of bright pain.
The door clicked open quietly.
“Porter? Mo’s here.” I could hear Mom step into the room.
“She can come in.”
I heard movement and then the sound of a second pair of feet. After the door clicked shut again, I felt the bed dip and Mo crawled up beside me, her hand resting on my abs. I lifted my arm enough to look over at her. She lay on her side with her other arm folded under her head, on the pillow next to me.
She offered me a small smile.
“At least you were in the truck.”
I nodded lightly and moved my head back to its original position, arm back in place. “Yeah.”
Mo lowered her voice more, taking on an almost whispered tone. Damn, I appreciated that. “I’m guessing you’re just going to chill at home for the weekend.”
“Probably.” My voice was taking on a slurred quality. I was tired and in pain, but it wasn’t time for me to take another Tylenol. “My Dad’s going to come home tomorrow, so I’m sure I’ll be on some form of house arrest anyway.”
Mo’s hand moved in soothing circles over my chest. “Hopefully you’re better by Monday for school.”
I gave a noncommittal sound and Mo simply cuddled into my side more, staying quiet. I’m not sure how long she stayed though, because I fell asleep shortly after that. When I woke, it was morning and I was alone.
***
Mom and I were sitting at the table eating breakfast when the door to the garage opened and Dad stepped into the kitchen, dropping his bags by the door. His hair was a mess and his face was shadowed. He was rocking some decent bags under his eyes too.
I glanced at the clock to see it was only seven-thirty. Mom glanced at it too before standing and walking to him, giving him a hug. “Red-eye?”
“Yeah. I needed to be home.” He hugged Mom tight then looked toward me. I could see him taking in everything in his calculated expression. Having played hockey, and then coaching it, he was pretty good at spotting symptoms as well as when his players were hurting and not saying anything.
“Head still bothering you?” he asked after letting go of Mom.
“Little bit.”
“Bruises?” He moved to pull out the chair between Mom’s seat and my own, just as Mom returned to her breakfast.
“Just my hip.” I woke up and accidentally hit it with my hand when I stood. The bruise there was near a foot long and spread from about my waist to just below the ball and socket joint in my hip. Surprisingly, my arm didn’t do any bruising, by my leg more than made up for it.
It hurt like a bitch too.
