Wood Worked

Raphael brought an ottoman from the living room and placed it in front of me. “You’re supposed to keep your leg elevated as much as possible,” he reminded me as he bent down and carefully lifted my cast up. Even with his gentleness, I couldn’t help but grimace, and he stopped immediately.

“Maybe something not quite as high?” Spencer suggested. Raphael disappeared down the hallway and returned with a wooden stepstool with a cartoon character on it. He’d plucked a throw pillow off the couch, and when he lifted my leg up again, it didn’t hurt as much.

From this vantage, I could see the cast better. The plaster looked very thick. The only parts of my leg not covered were my foot and my upper thigh. There was a slight bend at the knee, but other than that, it was pretty straight and completely rigid. I wondered how long my leg would be frozen in this position. As I thought about it, I wiggled my toes. It was a little chilly in here, perhaps because the house had been empty.

Spencer followed my gaze. “Do you want a blanket?”

“Actually, I’m wishing I had some socks.” I’d always been a fan of warm, fuzzy socks. “I wish I had my clothes here, too.”

“We’ll get them for you,” Raphael said. “That’s on the agenda for this evening after dinner.”

“In the meantime, I think I’ve got something you might like.” Spencer left the room.

That would be great if they could get my things. I couldn’t wear borrowed clothes forever. I’d have to give them my keys, but at the moment, I couldn’t remember where they were. Then it dawned on me. “My car’s still at the park.”

“No, it’s not,” Raphael said. “Flynn and I got it last night.”

“Flynn?”

“My brother,” Spencer said, his face tightening as he returned. That must be the man I’d seen flying the kite with the kids yesterday. The one who’d held my hand after the accident.

“I didn’t see my car out there.”

“We parked it at his house because there’s more room. There’s a big lot on the other side of the barn,” Raphael said.

“He lives next door?”

“Yes.”

Spencer showed me a pair of purple socks that looked handmade. “Our neighbor on the other side knits. These were actually made for Charlotte, but they’re pretty big and loose. I think they’ll fit your feet.” Charlotte? From the size of the socks, I figured that must be the little girl.

Spencer knelt down and stretched a sock wide, pulling it up over one foot before doing the same to the other.

Wow. Having two handsome men literally waiting on me hand and foot was going to take some getting used to.

4

Alyssa

Raphael sat down at the table next to me and pulled out a plastic bag.

“What’s that?”

“Your medicine.”

My stomach did a little flip-flop. There were quite a few blister packs of pills, plus some prescriptions scribbled in messy handwriting. It was a reminder that for the first time in my life, I had an injury that wasn’t going to go away in a few days.

Raphael pored over the array of meds in front of him. Probably that was something I should be doing, but I liked watching him when he was preoccupied like that. The tip of his tongue brushed against his top lip while he was focused. It was a familiar expression of concentration, one that I’d seen many times at the engineering library over the last four years.

“You should take these two now.” He slid two packets over to me. “The bigger one is supposed to be taken with food.”

“I’m on it,” Spencer said. “I’ve got to prepare an after-school snack for the kids anyway. What do you want to drink, Alyssa?”

“Tea?” Nothing really sounded good. My stomach ached a bit, perhaps from the stress of the last few days.

“Sure. Sweet tea?”

“No, thank you,” I said quickly.

I must’ve made a face, because he laughed. “Spoken like a non-Southern girl.”

That was definitely true. I was eager to try Cajun food, and I hoped to be able to take a trip to New Orleans some weekend to try the amazing restaurants there. Or that had been the plan, before my leg ended up like this.

Spencer moved easily around his kitchen. The ceiling was high, and so were the cabinets. There was an island that separated the kitchen and the dining room. It looked to be a newer addition to the house.

All in all, the place was rather charming. And homey. Well, I supposed all homes were homey, but when I was a kid, my mom had insisted on décor that made our place look more like a museum than a home.

Speaking of homes, I wondered where Raphael’s was. “Do you live nearby?”

He smiled. “I live here. This is my childhood home. My sister and I grew up in this house.”