Layla - Page 67

Dad made his way back to the couch and sat down with a groan like he’d been doing yard work for hours. “How’d you manage to get both of them to open at the same time when you couldn’t even open one, to begin with?”

Cole stood up and threw his arms in the air. “Like I know the answer to that, Dad. Seriously, do you remember who you’re talking to? Shit like that happens all the time to me, and I can never explain it.”

He had a point.

Not that I’d say anything, especially with how shitty I was feeling now.

“Cole, I don’t feel good.” I could barely get the words out, and even those five said in a whisper made my eyes water.

My poor brother panicked and pulled his phone out. Ever since I could remember, if I even shed one tear, my brothers would freak the hell out. That’s likely why I didn’t cry that often, because watching them when they lost it and tried to fix whatever was upsetting me usually made the problem worse. At least they cared, though. Bless their ‘thpecial’ hearts.

“Gramps, is Grams there? Shit, okay, do you have any Tylenol or painkillers like that we could give to Layla?” He chewed on his lower lip while he listened to what Gramps was saying.

“And they’re like Tylenol? Awesome. No, she didn’t forget, but the others had a…” he shot a glare over at Dad, who was laughing silently, “…an accident.”

Dad got up and took the phone out of Cole’s hand. “Yeah, Dad, he threw the bottles at the wall because he couldn’t open them, and they fell into the toilet. No, they opened when they hit the tiles. Right. Right? Right.”

He’d said the word three times in a row, but each time Dad changed the tone he said it in, giving it a different meaning. For some reason, that struck me as pretty cool, but that could be because I felt like shit.

“Ten bucks says they’re calling me a dumbass,” Cole whispered, his eyes on Dad’s back as he held his hand out.

Weakly pushing it away, I pulled the blanket up higher on my shoulder. “I’m not taking that bet because they’re totally calling you a dumbass.”

Hearing my voice was even raspier, his eyes widened, and he disappeared out of sight. Charming! Only a couple of minutes later, he was back with a glass of orange juice with ice floating in it.

“Drink some of this for me, Lala. You’re starting to sound like Marge Simpson.”

Weakly resting on my elbow, I accepted the glass and took a sip of the juice. Big mistake—huge.

“Oh, shit. That burns like acid,” I gasped, pushing the glass back toward him.

“Damn it, I’m sorry.” The poor guy looked so frustrated as he turned and barked over his shoulder, “Where is he with those painkillers? She’s in pain.”

Dad spun around and asked Gramps to hurry up before he hung up. “What can I do to help you, Layla? What do you need?”

“Water, please. Freezing cold water.”

Dad had managed to get someone out to fix my freezer yesterday, so I had ice once again, and there were no words to describe how grateful I was about that.

By the time Gramps arrived, panting like he’d run a 10K marathon instead of from his truck to the front door of my house, my eyes had stopped watering, and I’d experienced the sweet relief that a glassful of ice with water poured over it provided. It was heaven.

“Okay, these are from when your grandmother had that operation on her foot a couple of months back. It says you can take two every four hours, but don’t exceed eight.”

He glared down at the pill bottle. “What fucked up kind of math is that? There are twenty-four hours in a day. Why can you only take these for sixteen of them? What if you wake up in the night in pain?”

Cole held his hand out for the bottle, but Dad took it instead, shooting him a look. That was probably a good idea, given what’d happened with the bottles the last time he’d tried to get them for me. If I had to wait for us to find someone else to bring painkillers, I might literally die an agonizing death before they got here.

“Here you go, honey.” Dad held two out to me. “They’ll make you feel better soon.”

Gramps made himself comfortable and pulled the leaver to extend the footrest out of the bottom of the recliner. “Now that I’m here may as well take a load off and have a break.”

Cole looked confused. “What have you been doing today that you need to take a break?”

Oh, there were so many possible answers to that question that’d likely scar us all if he said half of them.

Popping the pills in my mouth and taking a large gulp of water, I laid back down and discreetly covered my ears. I didn’t need to know one of the scarring answers. Sure, it could be a mayoral duty, but Gramps loved to wind my brothers and Dad up, so he deliberately did it as often as he could.

I felt my limbs get heavier within a few minutes, and then I was dragged under. Usually Tylenol didn’t work on me that quickly or that well, but I guess with a list of things wrong with me, my body was that bit more sensitive.

Tags: Mary B. Moore Romance
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