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"I told you I'll clean it up."
Before she can argue, I scoop her up and kick the door closed behind me.
"Asher. Stop. I'm not an invalid."
"If you're going to run that trail race and win your gym, you need to stay off that knee."
"What's wrong with her knee?" Honey walks into the living room as I set Clover on the nearest couch.
"It's nothing," Clover says with a wave of her hand.
"It's an overuse injury." Noah steps into the room behind Honey. "And your sister is being stubborn about taking it easy."
"I have a race to win," Clover says. "I have to keep training."
Honey sits on the couch across from Clover's. For some reason, there are four couches in the room, all of them in radically different styles and colors. "You have to take care of yourself. I'll help you clean up. You were an idiot to keep Barley in your room, but you did it for a good reason."
"I'll help too," Noah says. "I can't sleep anyway."
Clover twists her head to look at Noah over her shoulder. "Everything okay?"
He shakes his head. "Just the bureaucracy of getting a clinic off the ground. Nothing to worry about."
Clover doesn't look convinced. "I can hobble around well enough to clean. I'm not asking y'all to help me."
"Because you hate asking for help," Honey says. "But we're going to help you anyway."
"I'm helping too," I say. "Whether you like it or not."
Honey stands. "I'll start in the kitchen, since it looks like you've already got it pretty clean in here."
"I'll help," Noah says.
Honey stops halfway to the kitchen and turns back. "Oh, by the way. Dad's lawyer called. She's coming by tomorrow to talk to all of us. A mid-year check-in she's calling it."
"That should be interesting." Clover's tone suggests she finds the idea entirely uninteresting. "Do I have to be here?"
"We all have to be here," Honey says. "Even if we're scheduled to be on shift tomorrow." She rolls her eyes. "She claims it was Dad's idea for her to show up for a surprise visit. She decided to give us twenty-four hours notice."
"How nice," Clover says.
Honey heads into the kitchen, Noah on her heels.
"Just direct me to what needs cleaning," I say.
The fact that Clover doesn't argue, but sinks into the couch and sighs proves just how worn out she is. "I've gotten most of the downstairs done. I've been too afraid to look at my room."
I grab a few throw pillows from the couches and lift Clover's leg to put them under it. "How's your knee really?"
She tilts her head back to rest on the arm of the couch and stares at the ceiling. "It really hurts. And it's puffy."
Leaving her, I head into the kitchen and find Noah cleaning up what looks like applesauce from the floor. "Hey, man," I say. "Do you have a minute to look at Clover's knee and tell her what she should do to get the puffiness down?"
Noah looks up at me, his expression all concern. "Puffiness? She really needs to stay off that knee."
"That's what I keep telling her, but she's not listening to me. Unless I see her limping—"
"I can hear you—," Clover calls from the living room. "Stop talking about me like I'm not here."
