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“Good. Now food. I want you to get better.”
Mom lifts the spoon, which makes the frown between Dad’s brows deepen, but he obliges her anyway. If Dad had one soft spot, it was Mom. I stay there for a heartbeat longer before silently getting out of the room. I pull my phone out of my pocket as I head down the stairs.
Me:
We just brought dad home.
Rebecca’s answer is almost immediate.
Red:
That’s amazing.
How is he feeling?
Me:
Like a grumpy asshole.
Red:
Miguel!
He’s sick, you have to cut him some slack.
Me:
Heart attack doesn’t give you an excuse to act like an asshole.
In his defense, he did just apologize for what happened four years ago.
Anyway, want me to come later tonight?
Red:
Can’t. I promised Savannah we’d hang out. Another day?
Dammit, I didn’t want to hang out another day. We didn’t get a chance to see each other since I left her house two days ago, or since I’ve spent most of my time helping Mom at the hospital. I missed her. But I couldn’t say that, and it wouldn’t be fair of me to ask her to cancel her plans now that I was here.
Me:
Yeah, sure.
I guess I’ll go find something to do before I go crazy. Talk later?
I could always go upstairs and pull out my laptop to get some work done on my summer class. God knows I was behind, but the idea of staying inside after being in the hospital was suffocating.
No, I had to get out of here.
The outside is quiet, most of the ranch hands have already left to work out on the fields, but there is always something to do around this place, so I push my sleeves up and get to work.
“You’re always working!”
At the sound of the slightly familiar and most definitely angry voice, my head snaps up.
“Because this is our livelihood, Cheryl,” Aaron says softly. “What do you want me to do? Dad’s sick, so somebody has to pick up the slack, and that somebodyis me.”
“This isn’t about your dad. You’ve been doing this for months now, years, really.”
