Turning Thirty-Twelve by James Sandy

Author:James, Sandy [James, Sandy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: James Gang Publishing
Published: 2013-06-17T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Mark pulled the Accord into the garage, then came around and helped me out. After getting me settled on my new crutches, he grabbed our duffle bags and cleared a path for me into the house by holding open doors and kicking shoes out of the way.

I was so tired I could barely see straight. The ankle had throbbed all night as it continued to swell and turn some disgusting shades of blue and purple. I tried to tough it out, insisting I didn’t want to ruin our trip, but by supper it was obvious the mini-vacation was over. Hard to feel sexy or enjoy the wilderness when you’re in that much pain, and we couldn’t even cuddle because I had my ankle propped up on pillows. Neither of us had gotten much sleep, and we left hours before dawn to get back home.

“I still wish you’d let me take you to the hospital,” he scolded.

I teetered on my crutches, put my injured foot on the floor to regain my balance, and grimaced. “I don’t need an x-ray, and I sure don’t need to spend four hours in some E.R. for them to tell me it’s just a sprain.” I sounded as grumpy as I felt. Tired and in pain were a bad combination. “The crutches are enough. Thanks for stopping at the pharmacy, and thanks for buying me the ibuprofen. I need a handful right now.”

Mark grunted a reply that I figured was caveman speak for, “You’re welcome.”

“Dad! You’re back early!” Carly called from where she sat on the barstool, eating what looked like Fruit Loops. She fixed her eyes on my crutches. “Ms. Delgado? What happened to you?”

“She sprained her ankle. Where’s Kat?” Mark asked.

I followed his gaze to two enormous Nikes he had kicked aside by the door and realized very quickly exactly who they belonged to.

Oh, shit.

Nate suddenly appeared in the hall, blushing all the way as he tugged on his t-shirt.

Oh, shit. At least his jeans were still on.

Carly confirmed what I had already figured out. “Nate stayed over last night, but I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

Oh, shit.

“We were watching movies, and I–I just feel asleep on the couch.” Nate used that sheepish voice he always trotted out when he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “You’re home early.”

Nate really needed to learn when to keep his mouth shut.

How had I missed his car? It wasn’t in the driveway, and I hadn’t taken inventory of the ones parked on the street. Of course, I hadn’t known there was a reason to check them for a familiar, weathered black sedan.

Mark’s ruddy face and clenched fists told me he was trying to contain a potential nuclear meltdown. Nate was in for it. So was Kathy. My problem was I didn’t know where I fit into this whole ridiculous nightmare. My personality split right down the middle and began to tug me in two different directions. Was I going to react as Nate’s

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