Isaac
“Oh my God, Isaac, would you please stop hovering?” Her exasperated voice skates across my skin.
“If you weren’t trying to overdo it, I wouldn’t have to hover, would I?” I smirk at her, then laugh when she picks up the blue throw pillow and screams into it.
Camryn and Mallory were discharged yesterday, and I went home with Camryn. I called her brother, Bryson, the day before to let him know what had happened, and he’s due to fly in later tonight from Washington. When I made that call, I had no idea her brother played professional football. To say I’m a little intimidated to meet him is an understatement.
“Now, since you’re all propped up like a good little girl,” I continue, despite the growl she throws in my direction, “do you want me to get you anything?”
Looking at her face, she wants to ask me for something, but is too damn stubborn to admit she needs help.
“Something to drink? Eat? Do you need some pain medication?”
“You’re not going to drop this, are you?” she asks with a small smile.
“Nope,” I answer, making the “P” pop at the end, enticing a giggle from her.
“Fine, will you get me ibuprofen and something to drink? Please?” she adds as I walk toward the kitchen. I grab a bottle of water out of the fridge and snatch a yogurt, not wanting the medicine to upset her stomach, then saunter back to the living room where I left her sitting on her sofa with her leg elevated. I sit down on the arm, trying not to jostle her leg too much, and hand her the water. Holding out her hand, I place the blue capsules in her upturned palm. After she takes them, I hand her the container of yogurt. When she looks at me with her head cocked to the side, I ask, “What?”
“Did you happen to bring a spoon?”
“Well…fuck no. Why would you need a spoon?” I chuckle out before heading for the kitchen once again.
The ringing of the doorbell rouses me from sleep. I blink through the haze, then rub my eyes before stretching. Camryn’s still sleeping on her end of the couch, so I heave upwards and hurry to the door before it wakes her.
Opening the door, I stare into a throat before looking up into the laughing eyes of a giant redhead. Holy shit, this guy is huge.
“Hey, man, you must be Isaac.” The man sticks out his big hand. “I’m Bryson.”
“Nice to meet you,” I respond, placing my hand in his, praying he doesn’t crush it. “She’s sleeping right now.”
I turn to walk back into the living room, Bryson at my back, his booted footsteps nearly silent on the tile.
Once he spies his sister, the tension leaves his frame as his muscles relax.
“How she doin’?”
“If I can keep her off her foot, she’ll be better off.”
“She’s always been stubborn,” he whispers with a smile
“Not a new thing then, huh?”
“No, that’s been a trait we’ve shared since birth.” At my questioning look, he responds, “Didn’t know we were twins, huh?”
“Not a clue,” I respond with a smile. “You want something to drink?”
“Yeah, whatever you’ve got,” he says over his shoulder as he moves toward the spare bedroom, opening the door and chucking his blue duffle bag onto the bed with a bounce.
After an hour of Bryson and I talking about the football prospects this year, Camryn stirs on the couch. Elbowing Bryson in the side, I get his attention and nod in her direction. An evil grin crosses his face as he moves toward the couch until he’s face to face with Camryn, noses almost touching.
As soon as she opens her eyes, an ear-piercing scream wrenches from her throat and Bryson falls over on the floor, laughing.
“Jesus, Bry, you scared the shit outta me!” she yells, throwing a pillow at his head while he continues to laugh like a loon, tears streaming down his face.
“When the hell did you get here?” She peers down at him before relaxing back.
“God, that was fucking awesome. Good throw, sis. Your aim has improved.”
“You’re such a jerk,” she replies with a smile on her face.
Crawling over to her, he leans back against the couch and turns to face her.
“How are you feeling, sis?” he asks, concern lacing his tone.
“Sore mostly. My ankle is throbbing.”
“It’s time for more pain medicine. Do you want the ibuprofen or the prescription stuff?” I ask before heading to the kitchen.
“I think the ibuprofen will work. But first, I gotta pee. Move it.” She pushes at her brother, but he doesn’t budge an inch. “Please, I really gotta go!” she wails in frustration.
“Bryson, her crutches are in the hallway.” I give him a stern look.
Heaving a huge sigh, he hefts his heavy frame from the floor before grabbing her crutches from the hall and helping her stand up. He makes sure she has her balance before letting her head in the direction of her bedroom, his worried gaze following her with every thud of the crutch on the floor.
“Thank you for taking care of her for me,” he states without taking his eyes from the doorway she disappeared through.
“It was my pleasure.” Something in my tone has him turning toward me. Gone is the laughing guy from earlier, replaced by the big brother.
“What exactly are your intentions toward my sister?”
“Truthfully?” At his nod, I continue. “I care more about your sister than I have any woman in a very long time.”
Rubbing his hand across the back of his neck, he glances back toward Camryn’s bedroom before continuing. “Look, I know your reputation. I’m not sure how I feel about you being with my sister.”
“Well, she’s not sure about it either. I’ve been letting her mull over the idea. We’re going slow. Very slow,” I sigh, the frustration in my voice coming through. He laughs out loud.
“Let’s keep on that slow track, ya hear me?”
“I’m letting her set the pace. She’s been reluctant, but we’ve been getting to know each other over the last few months,” I say, hoping my eyes convey just how much she means to me.
Before he can utter another word, the soft click of the door catches my attention.
“We can finish this conversation later, okay?” I glance over his shoulder as Camryn hobbles out of the bedroom, her face pinched and breathing choppy. “Help her back to the couch and I’ll get her pain meds. I think she’s going to need the stronger stuff after that little trek.”
Seeing the direction of my stare, he replies, “Sure,” before turning to Camryn and waiting for her to make her way to the couch, fists clenched at his side as he restrains himself from just picking her up like a child. I head into the kitchen and grab the small orange bottle out of the white paper bag from the pharmacy. After reading the prescription, I shake one of the large white pills into my hand and grab a bottle of water. When I get back into the living room, Camryn is lying on the couch with her leg propped up on the pillow, her brow furrowed and lines bracketing her mouth.
“Take this,” I order, my tone brooking no argument. She doesn’t even say a word before popping the pill in her mouth as she reaches for the water bottle to wash it down. “Do you need anything else? Something to eat? Your kindle?”
“No. I think I’m just going to lay here contemplating chopping my leg off.” A small smile graces her lips, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Give it a little while and the pill will kick in. For now, just relax. What do you want to eat tonight? It’s getting late enough to order something.”
“Pizza?” she asks in a hopeful tone, her eyes lighting up at the thought. Who the hell am I to deny her that?
“What do you want on it?” Her smile brightens, the pain forgotten for the moment.
“Everything—except pineapple, anchovies, or jalapenos.”
“Sounds good. Bryson? Any requests?” I ask, glancing over at him.
“Just make sure you get three.” He chuckles before shooting Camryn a wink. “I can eat one by myself.”
The closeness between the two is obvious in the way they look at each other.
“I’ll get it ordered. Should be here within the hour.”
After gorging ourselves on pizza, Camryn is back asleep, and Bryson and I are sitting on her back porch, listening to the crickets and sipping on beer.
“So, is it just you and Camryn? She doesn’t talk about her family much.” I set the wooden rocker into motion, the bottom making a crunching sound on the concrete.
“Basically, yes. Our father died a couple years ago from a heart attack. My mother and sister live close to Houston. We don’t have much to do with them.” The bitterness in his tone catches my attention, but he changes the subject before I can question further. “What about you?” He brings the beer to his mouth and takes a drink.
“My parents live in Prosper. My brother and his wife are in Seattle.”
“Did you grow up around here?” He gazes out over Camryn’s backyard, noting the weeds and overgrown grass.
“In Prosper, yeah.”
“College?”
“Went to Texas A&M.” At my answer, his eyes shoot to me.
“Shit. Is your last name Haynes?”
“Yeah,” I answer, confused.
“Dude, you were freaking awesome. Your arm was like the gods came down and gave you fucking magic.”
“Thanks,” I reply before taking a sip.
“It was your knee, wasn’t it? That took you out?” Pity is evident in his tone as he asks, as if he’s contemplating how he would feel to have a career ending injury when football is your life.
“Tore nearly every ligament that can be torn in my right knee.
“That sucks.”
“Understatement of the year,” I reply, bitter.
“We’ll have to toss the ball around while I’m here.” He smiles.
“Sounds good. We toss the ball around sometimes when we have the time. Haven’t had anyone of your caliber to throw to since college, though.”
We continue to rock in the comfortable silence for another few minutes, the smell of chlorine wafting on the breeze from the neighbor’s pool.
“You know you don’t need to stay tonight, right?” he asks into the quiet.
“Since you’re here, I guess I don’t.”
“That couch looks awfully small for you, my friend. May get a crick in your back.”
“That your way of politely kicking me out?” I ask with a chuckle.
“It’s my way of saying you’re not sleeping with my sister.”
“If I had a sister, I’d probably feel the same way. Just as long as you’re not saying I can’t spend time with her.”
“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you. Just remember that.” He leans over, the brown bottle catching the light from the moon.
“Deal,” I respond, my bottle making a clink as it touches his.