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“Oh, okay.” I tucked everything back in his bag and jogged toward him.
He bounced the ball to me. I caught it and looked at him with a “what now” look.
He smiled. “We’re going to play horse. It’s like Simon Says. We have to do what the other person does. The first person who spells the word horse wins.”
“What do we win?”
He gave me a devious smile. “The winner gets to pick which movie to watch tonight.”
Well, that sucked. Since I never played this game, he’d win, and I’d end up watching another stupid zombie movie. But spending time with my brother in his space, which he allowed me to invade, meant the world to me.
“Deal.”
* * *
Jo let me win the game.
We watchedTransformersand ate a bunch of junk food.
We laughed.
It was the best day.
I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Chapter 16 -Donovan
AFTER THE FUNERAL
Three days later after Josiah’s funeral, Shorty was released from the hospital. From the moment I helped her out of the wheelchair and into the car, she didn’t say one word; she just stared out the window, lost in her own thoughts.
Shorty’s grandmother’s only brother passed away in his sleep a few days before the funeral. After Jo’s funeral, Abuela flew to Puerto Rico. She didn’t want to leave Shorty behind with everything that happened, but we convinced her that she and Sophie would be taken care of.
Once we pull up to the house, I shut off the ignition and glance over at the strong girl beside me. She fell asleep sometime during the drive. From here, she almost looks at peace. It fucking guts me knowing reality is going to set in when she wakes up. I scrub my hands down my face and slide out of the Range Rover. I jog to the passenger side and open her door, carefully unfastening her seatbelt.
“Shorty, we’re home.”
She doesn’t move.
“Baby, we’re home. Open your eyes.” I run my nose up and down her cheek.
Slowly, her eyes open. At first, she looks confused when she glances around and back at me.
She gives me a small smile.
I grab her bag and wheelchair from the trunk.
I help her out of the car and unfold the wheelchair. I wheel her up to the door. The front door opens, and Mom appears with a rag in her hand. She looks at me and Shorty with a sympathetic smile.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Mom says, giving her a quick hug, but Shorty doesn’t reciprocate fully.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask as I shut the door behind me.
“He’s in the den with Sophia.” Mom smiles.
“I’ll let you get settled. Dinner will be ready in an hour.” She rubs Shorty’s arms and steps aside to give us room to enter.
We make our way to her bedroom and I open the door to the guest room that was prepared for her. Setting her bag down, I kneel in front of her, “How about you take a shower, and then we’ll get something to eat.”
