Page 75 of Swiped By My Dad's Best Friend
I’d hardly been in shape to talk to anyone so far, but I felt disconnected from Trace. I didn’t want him to think I was avoiding him after that scene at the hospital—even if Dad and I had been avoiding talking about it ever since.
“Aw, did Cooper get grounded from his phone?” Lena teased. “You must be going through withdrawal.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“He’s not grounded from anything,” Dad said. “He has a concussion. And you could do with a little less screen time and little more studying yourself.”
She pulled a face and turned back to her books. But speaking of studying, I felt my stomach clench. “Shit, I’ve already missed a bunch of classes.”
Dad gave me an odd look. “I’ll pick up any missed assignments for you and make sure your absences are excused. How do you feel? You look a bit pale.”
“Still hurts,” I admitted. “But that could last a while, right? I can’t miss class for weeks.”
The doctor had warned me that while the intensity and frequency of the headaches would fade, I could still feel the aftereffects of the concussion for weeks. At some point, I’d have to grit my teeth and push through it.
“No, but your concussion was mild. Let’s give you a little more time to recover before we push it, hmm?”
I sighed, raising my hands to my temples. If I hadn’t blown my chance at raising my grades for the semester, I probably had now. I could barely focus on this conversation, much less school.
“You need to get off that ankle,” Dad said, gently nudging me toward the table. “I’ll heat up some dinner for you. You slept through most the day.”
“Hate sleeping so much.”
“You obviously need it,” he said slightly. “How about I heat up some stew?”
My stomach rumbled. “Sounds good.”
While Dad pulled the pot of leftovers from the refrigerator, I took a peek at Lena’s phone screen—and winced as the bright light sent a spike of pain through my brain. Okay, so texting was definitely out for now.
If I hadn’t entirely lost the plot, it was Thursday night. That meant Trace would be returning to town tomorrow. Dad would never let him anywhere near the house, but I wanted to feel Trace’s arms around me, soothing me in ways no amount of sleep would.
“Has, um, has anyone called for me?” I asked tentatively.
Dad raised an eyebrow. “One of your frat brothers called earlier to ask about you.”
“Cool. No one else?”
“Don’t you want to know which of your friends was concerned?”
I tensed, knowing he was being evasive on purpose. He wasn’t going to give me any slack. I’d have to be more direct. “Did Trace call?”
Lena glanced up curiously.
“It was Simon,” Dad continued as if I hadn’t asked. “He seemed like a nice kid. He told me how hard you’ve been working on these projects. Several times a week?” He shook his head. “No wonder you’re struggling to keep up with your grades.”
“I’ve been working on that,” I argued.
“You’ve only got so much time. You have to think about your priorities, Cooper.”
I ground my teeth, frustrated and annoyed he was sidetracking me so effectively, and another pulse of pain shot through my head. I winced, closing my eyes. “Fuck.”
Lena put a hand on my arm. “You okay?”
Dad placed a bowl of steaming stew in front of me. “You should eat and rest,” he said, sounding contrite. “Everything else can wait.”
“Has he called?” I asked one more time. “Please just tell me.”
Dad sighed, sounding reluctant. “Yes.”
