Page 144 of Josephine and Clay

“Thank you,” I say.

She shifts Hailey carefully against her shoulder. “Anytime.”

I nod and start toward home.

This time, I make it three blocks without crying.

Progress.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Clay

JULY 8TH

Pain makes time ugly. It stretches everything out until morning feels endless, dragging its teeth across your skin long before noon ever arrives.

I’m getting real damn tired of it.

My leg throbs from hip to ankle, even though the break isn’t that high. The location of the break barely matters anymore. Pain goes wherever it wants once it decides you belong to it. It climbs and reminds you it’s there every time you breathe wrong, shift wrong, exist wrong.

I’ve been stuck in this room for three days.

Mostly.

I brought this on myself. Spent too long on my feet helping Nash at the dude ranch a few days ago, ignored every warning to take it easy, and now my leg's making damn sure I regret it.

Yesterday I made it as far as the porch, which everyone acted like was some kind of heroic achievement. Mom smiled too soft. Boone pretended not to hover. Dallas asked if I needed anything about six times in ten minutes, which is five times more than a man should ask unless someone’s actively bleeding out.

Nash tried humor.

That was worse.

So now I’m in bed, one leg propped up on pillows, staring at the ceiling as if it personally ruined my life.

The house is completely quiet. That’s how I know everyone’s gone.

Boone’s out checking cattle. Dallas took Mom into town for something she claimed she didn’t need help with, which means she absolutely did. Nash is at the dude ranch with Tessa and Hailey, probably trying to figure out how to run a business while surviving on newborn sleep.

Everyone else keeps moving while I lie here like a busted piece of equipment nobody knows where to store anymore.

I scrub both hands over my face and exhale hard.

The painkillers are on the nightstand. Bottle turned sideways from where I knocked it over in the dark last night and didn’t bother fixing it.

I should take one.

That’s what the doctor said. Stay ahead of the pain.

The problem nobody warns you about is how easy it becomes to lose yourself while trying to stay ahead of the pain.

So I don’t take one.

And I haven’t been taking them for a while now.

Instead, I swing my good leg over the edge of the bed and sit up too fast.

Bad idea.