Page 64 of Josephine and Clay

The cast itches. The meds make my head swim. Everybody’s talking softer around me, moving with that careful energy people get around the injured. Clearly, they think I might break worse if they shut a cabinet too hard.

I’d rather they yell.

At least yelling feels normal.

Instead, Boone asks if I need help getting to the table.

“No.”

Dallas asks if the pain’s manageable.

“Sure.”

Faith wants to know if I’ve eaten enough.

“Probably.”

Mom asks whether I took the pill on schedule.

I look at her over my plate. “I’m not six.”

“No,” she says. “At six you were easier.”

Nash laughs into his drink. Boone doesn’t. He’s got that older brother look on, the one that makes him seem about twenty years older than the rest of us, as if he came out of the womb already disappointed in my decision-making.

I push food around my plate and let the conversation move without me.

Rose talks about Ellie’s summer reading list. Faith tells some story about Brooklyn blowing out a diaper at the exact wrong moment. Tessa is half listening, half staring at Hailey in adoration. Nash keeps reaching over to touch the top of his daughter’s head because he still can’t quite believe she’s real...

“That’s enough brooding to sour the whole table,” Mom says.

I look up. “Was I brooding?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe my face just does this naturally.”

“It doesn’t,” Dallas says dryly.

Faith snorts. “No, your face usually looks more smug.”

That gets a real laugh out of Rose. Even Boone’s mouth twitches. I roll my eyes and reach for my glass.

The movement sends a sharp ache up from my leg and the room tilts just slightly with it.

I set the glass down harder than I mean to.

Silence flickers.

Then Mom says, “You don’t have to be in such a hurry to heal that you make yourself miserable.”

“I’m not miserable.”

That earns me six matching looks from around the table.

Hailey lets out a tiny sleepy squeak against Tessa’s chest, and somehow that only makes it worse.

I push my chair back. “I’m done.”