Page 39 of Roughing the Player
As soon as Butch sees her, he whines, straining at the leash.
“Don’t you dare jump on me, dog.” Kaylee shoots him a death glare.
As if by magic, Butch plops his entire massive body on the floor. Well, I’ll be darned. Reckon he knows Kaylee’s no one to mess with.
“How are you, sweetheart?” Mama asks, embracing Kaylee with her one free arm.
“Been better, Grandma.” Kaylee buzzes Mama’s cheek. “Thanks for asking.”
“Why don’t we go to your room, so you can get off your feet,” I say. The sooner she’s on the bed, the sooner she can rest that ankle.
“Okay.”
Once I have her settled, I retrieve her duffel bag and bring it to her room. “You want me to unpack your things?”
“Okay.” She must be in pain when she’s allowing me to go through her clothes.
After I’m done, I turn to her. “Does it hurt?”
“A little.”
“The doctor said you could take ibuprofen, right?”
Her mouth scrunches. “I’m not doing drugs.” She’s always been careful about what she ingests. So it stands to reason she wouldn’t want to take something that might harm her.
“Sweetheart, they’re not drugs.” Well, technically, they are. But that’s not what she means. “They’re sold over the counter. Anyone can buy them. And you already took them at camp.”
“Yeah, the doctor caught me at a weak moment.”
“Honey, you don’t wish to be in pain, do you, plus they’ll help you heal faster. Isn’t that what you want?”
She shrugs. “I guess.”
A scratch at the door interrupts us and she lets out a long, suffering sigh. “It’s that beast.”
“He’s probably worried about you.” One thing about Butch. He has a sixth sense. Earlier in the week, I’d made a pit stop to deliver groceries to Mama. The incipient sinus headache that had skirted around the edges all day had become full-blown. After I’d taken my medicine and laid down on the couch for a few, he hadn’t left my side until it was gone.
“How can he be? He just met me.”
“He has a big heart, honey. Do you want me to let him in?” Sooner or later, she’ll have to make peace with him. If she doesn’t, he’ll have to go. And I’d really hate for that to happen.
“Okay, but he can’t climb on the bed.”
“I agree.”
After I slice open the door, Butch advances into the room. He must know he has to be on his best behavior because he practically crawls in on all fours.
“There. You’ve seen me. I’m fine. Now go away.”
Rather than leave, Butch lies down on the rug next to her bed.
“I think he wants to stay, sweetheart.”
Her gaze cuts to me. “Whose room is it anyway?”
“Yours, honey. He won’t hurt you. He just wants to keep you company.”
“He better not eat something. Meghan’s dog ate the couch.”
