When Sparks Fly

“Harley and I can help you recover. You can stay with us,” London assures me.

“How can you do that when you both have to run Spark House? Someone needs to handle Avery’s responsibilities. You can’t do that and take care of her at the same time.”

“We’ll make it work. We’ll hire a nurse’s aide if we need to,” London argues.

Declan’s lips thin. “Are you going to interview for that? When will you have time? And how is it better to have a stranger helping Avery recover?”

“How reliable have you proven yourself to be?” London grabs the bedrail, knuckles going white. “What happens when you decide you want to go out? Are you going to drag Avery along with you? Will you leave her at home alone? There are two of us and one of you. I think we’re the better option here. Besides, we’re her family. At least with us, she knows she’s our first priority.”

I hold up the hand that isn’t in a cast. “Can we call a time-out for a second?”

Both of them snap their jaws shut and turn their heated gazes my way.

Logically, staying with my sisters doesn’t make a lot of sense. They’re going to have to pick up the slack for me, and that means they’ll need to be at Spark House, even more than they already are, and I’ll have to work remotely—with one hand and one working leg—and that’s when I’ll actually be able to keep my eyes open for more than an hour at a time.

My head feels like a jumbled mess of information and worries, and we haven’t even made an actual decision yet. All my stuff is at my place. Moving it all into Harley and London’s would be a huge pain in the ass.

“Considering the demands that are going to be on you and Harley while I’m recovering, and Declan being able to get flex hours, it makes the most sense for me to stay in my condo.”

“You don’t need to do that. Harley and I can make it work,” London repeats, worry in her voice.

“But how? You don’t even have a spare bedroom.”

“We’ll convert the office, or Harley and I can share a room.” London wrings her hands.

I cock a brow. “Really? You two are going to bunk together? I know how much fun it was when we were kids and you and I had to share a room during family vacations.” I motion between London and me. “I can’t imagine any of us have gotten more flexible about our personal habits. Besides, you can’t relegate one person to come and take care of me because you’ll both be needed at Spark House. If Declan already has the time off to help me manage while I’m healing, then staying at my own place where I’m most comfortable makes the most sense.”

“I’ve ordered all the stuff the nursing staff said you would need, and most of it has been delivered already. I’m reorganizing the living room, so you’ll be able to get around a lot easier when you’re ready to come home,” Declan says to me and then turns to London. “I know you’re angry with me and I understand why. I get it, and I know you don’t have a lot of faith in my abilities considering where we are, but I can be there, and Avery’s right. You’re going to need to be free to manage events since you’re down a person.”

London finally backs down, but she sure doesn’t seem happy about conceding. “Fine. But Harley and I will be checking in daily.” She takes my hand. “And if you change your mind, you can come stay with us. Or we could figure something out at Spark House if we really need to.”

The last thing I want is to be at Spark House, bedridden and watching my sisters pull double time while I can do absolutely nothing to help. But I don’t want to hurt London’s feelings or incite more anger, so I nod my agreement.

8

LET THAT REALITY SINK IN

AVERY

I spend a week in the hospital. Seven days has never felt so long, and all I want is my bed and my bathroom and the use of my arm and my leg.

The first time I saw my face post-accident, I cried. I’m not really a vain person. I don’t wear much makeup or put a lot of effort into dressing up and getting fancy like London sometimes does. At best, I’m a lip gloss and coat of mascara kind of woman. But seeing the bruises under my eyes and across the bridge of my nose, the healing split lip, and the scratches across my cheek from the shattered driver’s side window was a huge wake-up call.

Because apart from broken bones and a banged-up face, it could’ve been a lot worse.