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Hedra stood in the kitchen doorway, staring at Boone, who was chopping chicken on a cutting board. She knew he could smell her, but he didn’t turn around, and that just pissed her off more.
You’ll get yourself fired, Hedra.
She ignored her inner voice and stepped into the kitchen. “She needs physio, Boone.”
“I know she does.”
“You can’t give in to your nan’s every wish,” she said.
He dumped the pieces of chicken into the frying pan. “I’m not.”
“You are. Do you want Althea to live with you for the rest of her life? Because without physiotherapy, that’s what will happen, and she’ll be miserable. She wants to go home and be independent.”
“I know she does.” He added seasoning to the chicken and stirred it in the pan.
“She’s tougher than you think, and you have to stop giving in to her every whim,” Hedra said.
He turned, his eyes now a bright jade and growled, “I hired you to be Nan’s nurse, not give me advice on how to care for her, Hedra. So, maybe back the hell off, would you?”
She didn’t need to be a shifter to smell his instant regret. She could see it in how he slumped against the counter, in how his eyes faded to their usual hazel and the look of shame on his face.
“We both want the same thing here,” she said. “We want her to feel better and return to independent living, right?”
He nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry I snapped at you. I hate the idea of Nan being in pain.”
Her anger disappeared at the misery in his voice, and she joined him at the stove, taking the wooden spoon from him and stirring the chicken in the pan before it could stick and burn. His reactions and the tenseness in his body suggested something more than just his nan was bothering him.
“I know you don’t like it, and I don’t either. But it can’t be helped, and delaying physio will only make it harder for her in the long run.”
“I know,” he said with a heavy sigh. He ran his hand through his hair. “I’ll look into finding another therapist and talk to Nan about it in a day or two when she’s not as upset.”
“Okay,” she said. “Will you tell me what else is wrong?”
He blinked at her, his pupils going to slits for a few seconds while he talked to his tiger. “How do you know something else is wrong?”
She shrugged. “Am I mistaken?”
He raked his hand through his hair again. “No.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He stared moodily at the chicken pieces sizzling in the pan. “I hired you to be Nan’s nurse, not my therapist. You don’t need to listen to my shit.”
“I don’t mind,” she said. “But I’ll also understand if you’d rather not share.”
She understood but didn’t like it. She wanted to be the person Boone confided in, and that was a fucking dangerous feeling, but she didn’t know how to stop it.
He leaned against the counter, his arms folded across his chest and his body stiff as he confessed. “I was assigned to a new job today. It’s an easy one babysitting an aging celebrity, and I hate it. It’ll be boring as shit, and I’m,” he glanced at the doorway, “resentful about it. Then I feel guilty for feeling resentful because I love Nan, and nothing else should matter to me more than her. I want her to get better and return to her home because I know that’ll make her happy, but also so I can return to my normal life. But then I go and do stupid shit like telling her she doesn’t have to do physio, even though I know it will just prolong her recovery.”
He stared at her. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” she said. “You’re allowed to feel how you feel, including being a bit resentful that your life has been turned upside down. Look, Boone, everyone in your life and even strangers can see how much you love and care for your nan. No one will ever question that, okay?”
He nodded. “Thank you for saying that. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” She stirred the chicken again. “Your chicken is done.”
He stared at the pan. “Do you want to join us for dinner?”
