“Yes, I’ll still love you, Lucah.”
“Well thank God for that.” He pulled out of the driveway and honked to let my parents know we were on our way. “Your dad isn’t looking good again.”
I didn’t really have a chance to bring it up with Dad. Okay, so I didn’t want to bring it up with him. Again.
“I know. Any news on the usurpers?” That was what I called the Board now.
“It’s been quiet, actually. Maybe they’ve given up? I’m too cynical to really think that, so my guess is that they’re doing everything in person, or other ways that can’t be traced. Which probably means they know I could be watching them. So. We’ll see.” That didn’t sound good. At all. I wanted to believe that they’d given up.
It made me want to throw things and stomp my feet and act like a three-year-old. But that probably wouldn’t do any good.
“I guess this is one of those things that you just have to sit back and watch. I hate those things.”
“I hate those things too. But that seems to be what we’ve been doing lately. Waiting and seeing.”
So true. And home we went. To wait and see.
~*~*~
Ryder was alone and watching TV when we got back to the apartment, which shocked me.
“How was the running?” I asked, shocked that Sloane wasn’t with him.
“Sloane, ah, pulled a muscle and I had to carry her back.”
Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. I refused to look at Lucah, because I knew I would start.
“Is she okay?”
“Oh, I think so. I gave her some aspirin and set her up with a hot water bottle.” He got up and turned off the television, and brought the cup he’d been drinking out of over to the sink. One thing in his favor, he did clean up after himself and never complained about helping out.
“I think I’m going to go check on her,” I said, backing up. I also wanted to get her side of the running story.
Moaning greeted me when I knocked on Sloane’s door, but it was unlocked.
“It’s Rory,” I said, announcing myself.
“Oh my God, what is wrong with me?” She poked her head over the couch, her face twisted with pain.
“I would very much like to hear the answer to that question,” I said, going to assess the damage. She was splayed out on the couch with a blanket and the hot water bottle on her upper leg.
“Can I blame it on a cute boy?” I gingerly pulled her injured and uninjured legs into my lap and sat down.
“Why not? That’s the only reason you would ever go running. What were you thinking?” I wanted to smack her, but she was already injured. You didn’t smack an injured friend.
“I don’t know, he mentioned it once, and my mouth started talking and before I knew it, we were jogging and I was in massive amounts of pain.”
“Well, that’s because you’ve never jogged in your life. I mean, not purely for exercise. What were you thinking?” She shifted a bit and moaned again.
“I wasn’t. I was thinking with another part of my body, and not my brain. I will never make that mistake again.” Yes, she would, and when she did I’d be there to commiserate with her. Because she’d done the exact same thing for me, and would again.
“Do you need to see a doctor?” She cringed.
“I don’t think so. It’s just a pulled muscle. I’ll just walk it off.” She motioned for me to help her get up, so I did, helping her stand.
“Do you think you should be walking on it?” After a few tentative steps, I helped her hobble around the living room.
“It’s going to be fine. It’s just part of my punishment.” We made our way back to the couch and she lay down with the water bottle again.