Page 40 of Tangled with the Tight End

I stand still, girding myself. Would it be unprofessional to close my eyes?

One step at a time, Winona. First, you have to waterproof the splint.

“Stay there,” I tell Declan. “I have to wrap your splint.”

He nods. I get the cast protector and bend over Declan’s lower leg, placing the plastic sheath around his splint so no water seeps in.

I stand and catch him watching me.

“That should do it,” I say.

I wheel Declan’s knee scooter over to him and he transfers onto it. Then I trail behind him as he wheels toward the bedroom where he’s been sleeping. Neither of us says anything. We’re going through the motions, avoiding eye contact. My heart is beating like one of those mechanical monkeys with a tin drum. Declan stops just short of the door.

“You know what?” he says.

And I hope he’s going to say he can go a few months without bathing.

Of course, he can’t. Hygiene is an important aspect of health and healing. But so is not having a heart attack—and I just might have one if I have to actually go through with this.

“What?” I manage to answer him.

“I can’t use this bathroom. It has a tub and it’s small. We can take the elevator upstairs to the master. There’s a large shower up there.”

Oh goodie. And … an elevator? He has an elevator?

“Your elevator?”

“Get it over with, Winona. You’re going to mock my paneled kitchen appliances and my elevator all in the same day?”

“No. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

I was going to mock him. Yes. I was. But he took all the fun out of it by calling me out.

Who has an elevator in their house?

Declan. That’s who.

I almost forgot we’re heading to his shower when he mentioned the elevator.

We walk further into the house than I’ve been so far, down the main hallway.

I stare at the metal sliding door, painted the same white color as the walls and framed in beveled molding.

“You actually have an elevator.”

“Patrick and Maeve and I used to have so much fun on this thing.” His voice holds a note of nostalgia. “Of course, Dad would ban us from using it at times.”

“Yeah. It happens,” I say.

He gives me a side-eye.

“What?” I ask, laughing lightly. “You don’t think everyone’s dad put limits on the elevator use? Cass and I never used ours. Not once.”

He just shakes his head and smiles. “Do you want to do the honors?”

“Um. Is that even a question?” I push the button and the doors open. I’m giddy, but I don’t show it—at least not much.

Declan’s just staring at me.