Page 21 of Wanted

“It is,” I confirm, going for a less-is-more approach when divulging information to my nosy family.

“I’m sorry to say I can’t help. I’d love to, but I’m having new carpet laid this week.”

“Just thought I’d ask since she’d probably be more comfortable with you or one of the girls.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that. It sounds to me like you were looking after her very well.”

I bristle at her tone. “Maybe I’ll see if Cortney has space,” I mumble in search of an alternate option.

“She’s going out of town in the morning.”

“What for?”

“She and Sebastian are taking a vacation to celebrate their anniversary. I think he’s going to propose.”

“They haven’t broken up yet?” I mutter.

“Your sister is a big girl. She can decide for herself who’s worthy of her time.”

Normally, I’d agree. But I can’t help but feel she’s gotten it wrong this time. That guy is an undeserving prick.

“I think this is your issue to deal with, Jude. I know you can handle it.”

“Where am I supposed to put her?”

Mom clicks her tongue. “You have a guest bedroom. If I recall, you have two.”

“But they’re both on the second floor.”

“Is there something wrong with her legs?” she asks earnestly.

I push off the wall to move a few paces away.

“No.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“They’re on the same floor as my bedroom. She might find that… uncomfortable.”

A silence presses between us. “I don’t think she’ll find that to be a problem at all. And if she does, you can sleep on the couch.”

Accepting my loss, I ask her about the flowers she’s excited to buy until the curtain of room three slides open. Then I let her go.

Frankie pauses at the threshold with her shoulders straight and her head high. A black brace peeks out beneath a black sling. The way she glances anxiously up and down the hall reveals her brittle pretense and has me moving from my spot in the corner to make my presence known.

“Seriously, Jude. I can catch an Uber or something,” she says with a newfound confidence that contrasts her demeanor from a second ago.

I snort. “Don’t you need an app for that?” The hospital’s automatic doors slide open with a burst of cool air. “Where’s your jacket?”

“They had to cut it off to free my arm.”

Christ. I thought she had removed it herself.

With a look that dares her to argue, I shrug out of my black coat. Either she bites her tongue or she’s just cold enough to accept my offering without a retort. I lay the thick fabric over her shoulders and walk out the door.

Thankfully, she follows me to my van without further protests.

With a knight-worthy bow, I open her door with a rusty flourish and a sarcastic bite. “Your chariot.”

---