Page 13 of On the Edge

“Fair enough.” I stifled a laugh. In school, kids like him, theater geeks and poetic types, had made me all kinds ofuncomfortable. I wasn’t sure exactly how someone went through life so…free.Now, I was an adult, and the discomfort had given way to something closer to envy.

“This is your room.” Rowan opened another heavy wood door to reveal a large, sunny bedroom. All the blinds were open along a bank of windows that faced the back and side yards. My head started a low-grade ache, but I wasn’t about to ask the kid to close all the windows on my account. The room was an unfortunate shade of avocado with faded spots where pictures had likely once hung. Someone had made the bed with a soft-looking plaid quilt in fall colors with matching pillows. Two doors stood on the wall opposite the bed, and Rowan gestured at the far one after setting my bags down with athump. “Bathroom through there. Jonas worked with your dad to make sure everything was accessible for you.”

“I don’t need special treatment.” Upon further inspection, I could see little accommodations for me—all hardwood floors, not a rug in sight. A rolling bed tray thing like in the hospital. A peek in the bathroom revealed grab bars and a walk-in shower with a shower chair.

“Dude, be lucky they decided against the hospital bed.” Rowan rolled his eyes at me. “And most of these things were already here from when my other dad was sick.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” I’d totally forgotten momentarily that the kids had lost their other dad, Eric’s husband, to cancer a year or so ago. Appropriately rebuked, I tried to sound more grateful as I moved to sit on the bed, pulling my injured leg up to recline, a maneuver I’d gotten way too good at. “This is fine.”

“No, it’s not. It’s an ugly mismatch.” Rowan gave a dramatic flourish as he indicated the decor. “But I’m here to help. What’s your favorite color?”

“Uh…black?”

“Not helpful, Declan. Not helpful.” Rowan shook his head regretfully. “Dad said we could paint, but black walls aren’t going to fly.”

“People think of black as the absence of color, but actually, it’s all of them at once,” Wren observed from the door.

“See, it’s a pretty cool color.” I smiled at Wren, who didn’t smile back. “Short stuff agrees.”

That got a deeper frown from Wren and a groan from Rowan.

“We’re not decorating in a black scheme. Sorry, but no.” Rowan narrowed his eyes. “How do you feel about subtle florals?”

“We’re decorating?” I couldn’t hide my shudder. I associated decorating mainly with my grandma’s house, which had collectibles everywhere. In Seattle, my parents had worked long hours, and while our craftsman house had been homey, no one would have mistaken the hodgepodge of items for a deliberate interior design scheme.

“Rowan. Wren.” Blessedly, Jonas chose that moment to appear behind Wren. He was accompanied by a medium-sized dog, some sort of cattle dog mixed mutt, the long-legged type I often saw at the races. “How about we let Declan rest?”

“Hey.” I grinned, not even trying to hide my relief at being rescued from Rowan’s decorating ambitions. “And this must be the famous Oz?”

Jonas had mentioned his dog in passing a few times, and I could see why he was so taken with the dog’s gentle temperament. No jumping or barking, the dog simply strode over to the bed, hopped up, and settled himself at the foot.

“How are you feeling?” Jonas stepped into the room, eyeing me critically.

I managed a moan even more dramatic than Rowan’s. “If one more person asks me that, I might punch a wall, and I don’t have a hand to spare.”

I held up my healed wrist. Thanks to time and PT, I was able to steer the scooter and do basic tasks now, but punching anything would be foolish. Stupid or not, I glanced at the stack of pillows next to me. Might be worth a little pain to relieve some frustration.

“No punching.” Jonas gave me a stern glare that made me laugh. Damn, I was glad to see him again. And he lookedgood. Beard neatly trimmed, wearing a soft moss-colored sweater that made his hazel eyes appear greener than usual. Khaki pants hugged his thick thighs. I looked away before I got caught staring. I was the king of averting my eyes, but this was the first time I’d had to really work at it, a level of appreciation I hadn’t had prior.

“I’m telling you, he’d rest better if you let me work on the ambiance in here.” Rowan gestured with both hands as Jonas bodily steered him and Wren toward the hall.

“The ambiance is fine for now.” I yawned, more to hurry up the teens leaving than actual exhaustion. Lord knew I’d napped enough for several lifetimes this month alone.

“All right, everyone out.” Jonas good-naturedly waved Rowan and Wren away amid protests.

“Fine, but I’ll draw up some decorating plans for later.” Rowan made the promise sound closer to a threat as he left, followed by Wren, who was muttering about not having had a chance to quiz me about my symptoms.

“You do that.” I sank back against the pillows and briefly closed my eyes.

“How are you really?” Jonas asked as he went around the room, closing the blinds.

“Shitty.” The dimness helped, but I couldn’t quite shake my frustration or find it in me to lie to Jonas. “Sorry. I’m just so tired of beingfine.Okay.On the mend.Could be worse. Fuck all the lies.”

“You don’t have to pretend with me.” Jonas stooped to pet his dog before settling into a weirdly shaped midcentury modern chair in the corner to the side of the bed. I appreciated how he always seemed to go out of his way to make it so I didn’t have to crane my neck to make eye contact, but the chair looked all kinds of uncomfortable and stiff and not at all suited to his big frame.

“I know. That’s why I like you. I can be whiney.” I made the comment flippantly, but a hint of a blush crept across Jonas’s face.

“Thanks. And I’ve told you, you’re not whiney, but even if you were, you could whine away.”

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