Page 63 of Dream House
“Huh?” Tod frowns at me, and then it hits him that he’s been calling my brother the wrong name for an hour. His hand flies to his mouth. “Oh. Wow. I’m so sorry.”
I force a smile that might look more like I’m baring my teeth. “Don’t apologize tome.”
His eyes widen a fraction, and he takes me in for a second before shifting to my brother. “I’m really sorry, Tyler.”
Tyler doesn’t give him the courtesy of making eye contact. My brother’s jaw is tight, and he’s staring at his hands like he’s never seen anything more disgusting.
I look back at Tod.
“Look, I know I’m not his usual OT, but I did take a close look at Bobbi’s notes before we got started today. He was real motivated at the beginning of the session. He just had some trouble with the manipulatives, and it wore him out.”
I’m wincing because Tod is talking to me like Tyler isn’t right here. Like he can’t hear and understand everything.
“But he did a great job at first, and it was good to see him putting in some fresh effort,” Tod says, laying it on thick. “He needs to be practicing at home every day.”
It’s everything I can do not to palm my forehead. Every damn time we come, they tell us he needs to practice more. Every time I remind Tyler to practice his exercises, he just grunts or leaves the room.
“I know he’s a smart guy, and he gets bored,” Tod says, making me dislike him a little less. “He probably has zero interest in moving dried beans from one bowl to another with a pair of tweezers.”
The noise Tyler makes beside me sounds like suppressed violence.
Tod looks at my brother with a wicked grin. “I told him he should try hooking a rug for his girlfriend and—Look, there he goes, blushing again.”
My jaw drops in outrage. I spare the quickest possible glance to confirm that Tyler is, in fact, red with humiliation but also vibrating with wrath.
I grip the steering wheel and swivel my head back to Tod. He must see murder in my glare because he actually takes a step back from my car door. The grin he was wearing a second ago is MIA, which is a good thing because if he were still flaunting it, Tod might have been eating my elbow.
I suck on my top lip and remind myself that even though Maisy is asleep in her booster seat, physically or verbally assaulting this man would not be in her best interest. This is just one of the ways motherhood has made me a better person.
When I’m calm enough not to spit, I open my mouth. “Tod.”
He swallows. “Yes?”
“Tyler is never working with you again.” This isn’t a request. It’s not a discussion.
His forehead wrinkles. His butt-chin drops.
“Oh… well, we—”
“Is this something I need to take care of so henever works with you again?Or is this something you can take care of?”
His jaw hinges like a ventriloquist dummy. “I-I can take care of that.”
I nod. “Good. That’s good, Tod.” I begin to roll up the window. “Goodbye, Tod.”
I pull onto Coolidge Drive and blow out a long breath. Tyler sighs beside me.
“Rage is exhausting.”
“Mmm.”
I glance over at him as we pass Lafayette General where he endured three surgeries and two weeks in ICU. I don’t know how much of it he remembers, but we both remember the rehab hospital, and that place makes me shudder.
I’d honestly rather be in ICU.
But Tyler isn’t looking at the hospital. He’s still looking at his hands, his nostrils flared. Jaw tight.
“Want to tell me about it?”
