Page 93 of Burn Point

“He’s going to be just fine. He just walked in if you’d like to speak with him.”

Her voice was high and tight, anxious. The way she got when she spoke to her mother. I shifted to see her face to find her holding the phone out to me with wide eyes. “Your parents,” she mouthed.

Fuck.

I shook my head at her and mouthed, “No.”

She waggled the phone at me and mouthed, “Are you sure?”

With a defeated sigh, I glared at the phone. Yes, I was sure that I didn’t want to talk to them, but it was better to get it over with.

“Hello?” I croaked, my voice sounded raspy, and my throat burned.

“Nathaniel, sweetheart, how are you?”

“Hi, Mom. I’m okay.”

“I’m here too, son.” My dad’s voice was loud as if he was yelling into the phone. Though I’d just gotten out of bed, I was still exhausted. I put them on speaker and laid my head against Jordan, who immediately began running her fingers through my hair. It felt so good, so soothing to have her hands on me. I never wanted to leave this spot.

“Sweetheart, we heard that you were in an accident at work,” my mother said.

“Where’d you hear that?” Son of a bitch, my throat hurt like I’d swallowed glass.

“We follow the newspaper on social media. There was a big article, and your name was mentioned.”

Of course. Disappointment, shame, something else—regret, maybe?—rushed through me. I hadn’t heard from them in months even though they only lived an hour away. They hadn’t checked in after the tornado. They hadn’t checked in at all.

“Well, tell us what happened, son,” my dad demanded.

“Dad,” I started and grabbed my throat like that would stop the knives from stabbing me. Jordan snatched the phone away.

“Mr. and Mrs. Williams,” Jordan said sweetly, “I’m sorry. I should’ve checked with Nate before putting him on the phone. He’s not feeling well enough to speak now. He can hear you if you’d like to talk to him. But I’ll have to answer for him.”

I blinked up at Jordan and mouthed, “Thank you.”

She reached down and picked up a bottle of water, taking the cap off and handing it to me. I took a tentative sip. The cool liquid eased some of the pain, so I took a few more before handing her the bottle. Then I laid back in her lap and she resumed running her fingers over my scalp.

“I hope those doctors down there know what they are doing.”

“How long do you have to be out of work?”

“Will you be on paid leave?”

“You should come for a visit when you feel better. The leaves will be pretty in the fall.”

“We heard there was a tornado down there.”

“Is it still a mess?”

My parents droned on and on, talking over each other. Their questions layered on top of the other until I couldn’t tell who was asking what, neither of them allowing Jordan a chance to respond. I closed my eyes, unable to keep up with them. Unwilling to even try.

“Um, excuse me, again,” Jordan said softly. “We’re going to have to let you go. I think Nate has fallen back asleep.”

I wasn’t asleep, but my eyelids weighed a thousand pounds and were too heavy to lift, so we’d just go with that excuse.

She said good-byes and ended the call, then shifted slightly beneath me. I groaned in objection.

“Honey, raise up a sec, let me move a little,” she said, a smile in her voice.

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