Cinnamon Eyes by Nell Iris

Author:Nell Iris [Iris, Nell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-08-04T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Mr. Cross was asleep when I returned. His glass was empty, he’d kicked off the blanket, and his face was more relaxed than before. Maybe he’d just needed to be home?

I refilled his water, dumped all the cleaning supplies I’d brought in the kitchen, and wandered around the house, picking up laundry. When I got to his bedroom, I hesitated. He probably didn’t want me to go in there, but I wanted to change his sheets.

“He’s gonna yell at you anyway, Cory, so you might as well give him a reason,” I mumbled and opened the door.

It was the cleanest room in the house, but I stripped his bed anyway and carried the linen to the laundry room, where I got the machine going.

Then I went back to the kitchen. I could tell he’d done his best to keep it clean. The dishes were at least rinsed off and nothing smelled bad, so I wasn’t worried about finding something nasty in the sink.

My heart ached for him. I imagined him shuffling around, using up the last of his energy to make sure the place was clean enough and not hazardous.

“Shit.” I grabbed a trash bag and got to work.

A couple hours, two loads of laundry, floor-mopping, and what felt like all the dishes in the world later, I was starting to see the end of it. I was in the middle of scrubbing the countertops when Mr. Cross joined me.

“Feel better?” I smiled at him but continued working. My energy started waning, and I wanted to be done so I could go home to Asher and crash on his couch.

“Why are you doing this?” His voice was nearly as rumbly as his son’s, and I imagined this was how Asher would sound in thirty years or so.

“Because I care.”

“Why would you care about me?” He sat down by the now clean table—I’d sorted and stacked all the mail in neat piles—and looked around at all the sparkly surfaces. He inhaled through his nose, and a content expression spread on his face. Clearly, he loved the smell of a clean house as much as I did.

“I care about Asher, and you’re his father. That’s why.”

He grumbled a reply.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” I asked.

“Water, please.”

I fetched his glass from the living room and refilled it for him. Then I joined him at the table.

“How are you doing?”

He grimaced.

“Can you tell me about your treatment? Are you doing chemo? Or radiation? Or both?”

Another grunt.

“Mr. Cross. Asher is worried about you. You don’t have to tell me, but could you please talk to him about your treatment?”

He shrugged.

I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. “Stop behaving like a teenager. You’re a grown man, act like one.”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to take them back. Where had that come from? How come it was suddenly so easy for me to assert my fierceness around this grumpy man when I couldn’t do it with anyone else?

I didn’t have to worry.

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