The next morning, when I came downstairs, Neil was already sitting at the dining table. His wrist was still wrapped in the towel from yesterday. He looked a little drained, but he was scrolling through his phone anyway, as if he refused to let anyone think the injury had changed anything.
I walked over and set a fresh ice pack on the table.
“Still swollen?”
He looked up at me. “You actually remembered.”
“You told me to.”
“I was kidding.”
I did not answer. I unwrapped the towel and checked his wrist. It looked better than it had yesterday, but the swelling had not gone away.
There was movement in the kitchen. Nathan stood by the counter, pouring himself a glass of water.
I found myself looking at him before I could stop.
He noticed. Only for a second. Then he looked away.
“Don’t p
