Page 100 of Lance

Willa

James, this is totally unnecessary,” I mutter as my brother pulls the blanket more firmly over mylap.

“The doctor said you needed to rest,” he says, standing up to study his handiwork. “Do you think you need anotherpillow?”

“No!” I take a deep breath, reminding myself that he’s being sweet and there’s no reason to lose my temper. But after two hours of him babysitting me, I’m about ready to stranglehim.

“Hey, if you would rather I let Mom come out like she wanted to…” he says, letting the threat hang in theair.

I scowl up at him. “Of course I don’t wantthat.”

He gives me a grim smile of satisfaction. “Then you’ll just have to let me baby you for a fewdays.”

“A few days?” I yelp. There’s no way I can handle his hovering for a few more days. Since I was released from the hospital this afternoon, he had insisted on bringing me to the car in a wheelchair, despite the fact that my legs were working perfectly well. He’d made me a little bed on the couch and refused to let me get up to do anything myself. He had even tried to feed me soup, for God’ssake.

“You’re right,” he says, scratching his chin. “A week is probablybetter.”

I close my eyes, counting to ten so I don’t yell at him. I’ll kill him if he stays for a week. Why couldn’t Nia have stayed home from school? Was it really that important that she studied for her LSATs? Who wanted to go to law school,anyway?

“Okay,” he says, plopping down on the other side of the couch and picking up a remote control. “What do you want to watch?” He glances down at me. “You sure you don’t need anotherpillow?”

“I’mfine.”

He powers on the TV and navigates to the Netflix screen, scrolling quickly through my recommendations. “Willa,” he says after a moment. “Is there anything on here that isn’t sci-fi?”

“I think I have some Jane Austen adaptations,” I tell him. “We could watch one of those.” He groans. “You could also go back to your house,” I pointout.

“I thought you would want to hang out with me,” he says, pouting alittle.

“I do want to hang out with you,” I say. “I just want you to stop babying me so much. I broke my wrist, James. I’m capable of doing just aboutanything—”

“And you have a concussion,” he reminds me. “That requiresbabysitting.”

I blow out a breath. “Fine. Let’s just watch a Marvel movie. We’ll both likethat.”

He finds a superhero movie that he deems acceptable, and for a few minutes, we’re bothquiet.

“Do you need morewater?”

“James!”

“Sorry!” He turns his attention back to the TV, but I’m too agitated to give the movie my full attention. I find my eyes drifting to my brother’s face. He’s been very sweet since the accident, if a little overbearing. It’s obvious he was terrified that I had been really hurt. But I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something else botheringhim.

“James,” I say. “Can wetalk?”

He looks almost nervous as he turns to face me, like he had been expecting this. “Sure,Willa.”

I search his face. “What happened in SanDiego?”

He winces a little. “You don’t need to worry aboutit.”

“Why were you so mad at Lance in the hospital?” It hurts a little, saying his name. I’ve been trying hard not to think too much about him since the accident. It all feels too confusing. And it’s not like he’s tried to get in touch withme…

“I thought the hospital was fuzzy,” James says, not meeting myeyes.

“It is,” I say, rubbing my head, the mere memory of that killer headache making me feel like my temples are pounding again. “But I remember you kicking himout.”

“I didn’t kick him out. I told him you neededrest.”