Page 43 of Go Back to December

“Relax, Dad. I’m not cold.”

I climb onto the other side of the bed and unstrap the boots. Once freed, Baz seizes the crutches and makes a beeline for the bathroom. He slips out so fast, I lose my balance and teeter back onto his enormous bed.

The scent of clean linen and evergreens surrounds me. I’m in such danger of drowning in it, I scramble away for the safety of the opposite side of the room.

This afternoon, I was so overwhelmed that I missed the laundry basket of neatly folded clothes in the corner and the black-and-white photo of a foggy bridge over a canal that hangs above the tall set of drawers. It must have special meaning for Baz to display it in his bedroom.

“Snooping?” He looms in the doorway.

“Research,” I counter. “In case there’s a family quiz.”

“Try using your words first. Might get you further.”

All the unanswered questions are getting the better of me. What’s really going on with his family? Who’s Allie? And why on earth did he choose me to help him navigate all this, when he’s so awkward and edgy around me?

Baz moves back toward the bed and squints down at the medicine bottles on the nightstand. He removes a painkiller, snaps it in half, and drains the water glass.

“How’s the pain?”

Gingerly, he sinks down onto the bed and sighs. “It’s not that bad.”

“The doctor said you can take the full dose for a few days.”

“It’s fine.” He swings his legs onto the bed and winces.

“Karma police,” I taunt. “Take the drugs.”

“Do you have any idea how they jack up your system?”

More than an idea. I had a front-row seat for my father’s misery.

Ignoring his brooding glare, I swipe his water glass to refill it. He’s still scowling when I return with the water and a pack of frozen peas wrapped in a towel.

“Take off the brace. We’ll ice it for a bit.”

“Go back to bed. I can handle it.”

“You put me in charge of helping you. If you’ve got a problem with my brand of help, I will happily call Annabel or Dooley to assist.”

It’s a low blow. Fatigue weighs down his gaze, and he doesn’t have the strength to fight me. He removes the brace, and the moment the cold peas hit his knee, I can practically hear the sizzle off his skin.

A flush rises on my cheeks. I shouldn’t linger here. This dark quiet is a dangerous place, but I’m tethered to it.

For the first time in forever, I’m awake in the middle of the night, and I’m not alone.

“I’m so tired, but sleeping is impossible with these fucking boots,” Baz mumbles.

“That’s what the drugs are for.”

He makes a noise that’s somewhere between a whimper and a groan.

“We made a deal,” I remind him. “I’m the caretaker.”

“That’s not our deal. And I’m in charge of what goes in my body.”

With a defiant arch of his brow, he dares me to keep my attention fixed on that beautiful body.

“I wonder,” his pitch drops, hinting at menace, “what you’d forfeit to get me to take it.”