I noticed Dylan limping slightly as he came in from the garden and realized I had been pretending not to see it for weeks.
“You’re favoring your right leg again,” I said.
He stopped just inside the door and set the pruning shears on the counter. “It’s nothing.”
“You’ve been saying that for a month.”
He pulled out a chair and sat down harder than usual. “It gets stiff in the mornings. Once I move around it loosens up.”
I leaned against the counter. “Have you called the doctor?”
“Not yet.”
“Dylan.”
He looked at me, then away. “I didn’t want to make it a thing. You’re already watching me like I might break.”
“I’m watching you because I love you,” I said. “Not because I think you’re fragile.”
He rubbed his knee with one hand. “I hate this part. The slow wearing down. I used to be abl
