“What’s wrong with your arm?” Dale asked.
“What type of trouble?” Virgo asked.
“There was a bar fight. She took a hit to the forearm from a glass beer bottle,” Quaid told his cousins.
“Holy shit. Thank God it didn’t hit you in the face or the head,” Virgo added.
“I know. I was lucky.”
“Not so lucky, you needed fucking stitches,” Matt barked.
“Stitches?” Virgo asked, eyes scrunched together. He placed his hands on his hips.
“Where the fuck were those guys you hang out with? How come they didn’t protect you?” he asked. She swallowed hard.
“I don’t need protection from my guy friends. I can take care of myself. But just for the record, my ‘guy friends’ did help me,” she replied.
“Doesn’t look that way to me,” Virgo added.
“Oh give me a break. These things happen. It was an accident.”
Virgo ran his hands through his hair and then looked at Quaid, Matt, and Dale. They were all pissed off.
Sage moaned.
“What’s wrong?” Dale asked.
“She needs something to eat,” Quaid stated.
“I’m heating up this sliced steak. That should help, along with some bread,” Matt stated.
“French fries would be better, from Francine’s,” she whispered as she laid her head on her good arm on the island.
“What?” Virgo asked.
“Oh, our little party girl was going to be out all night with those friends of hers, and they planned on hitting Francine’s for breakfast before calling it a night,” Matt told them.
Dale slammed his hand down on the table. “Rules. Have you explained rules to her? We need them.”
“Rules? What are you talking about?” Sage whispered.
“Here, eat this, but take your time so you don’t get sick.”
She sat up and glared at Matt, as he placed the plate of food down in front of her, then crossed his arms in front of his chest. Quaid did the same thing until she quickly sat up and then cringed as she grabbed her side.
“What’s wrong?” Dale asked as he placed his hand on her shoulder from behind her.
“Nothing,” she stated firmly as she stared at Matt.
“Eat something,” Matt ordered. Quaid swallowed hard. This had the potential to escalate.
She went to cross her arms in front of her chest and jerked. Matt slowly uncrossed his arms and laid his palms on the island counter in front of her. He bent slightly and held her gaze.
“You’re going to eat some food so that you’re no longer feeling sick. Then we’re going to bring you upstairs and undress you to make sure you don’t have any other injuries before we tuck you into bed to rest. When you wake up later in the day, we’re going to have a discussion. Now, eat up.” He softened his tone on the last few syllables.
Quaid stared at her as she slowly reached for the fork and began to eat.
Was it a show of retreat? Was she choosing her battles wisely, or was this the calm before the storm?