Page 14 of Sharp Lies

I looked at the nurse, asking mutely for permission to take my mom out to a restaurant, but she shook her head.

“You’re not ready for the outside world yet, Diane,” she said bluntly. “Too many ways for you to get hurt out there.”

That brought about another eye roll from my mom, and I laughed and helped her back toward her wheelchair, wondering what sort of food they served in a place like this.

***

THE FOOD WAS, ON THE whole, fine. This wasn’t a large rehab center but a small one attached to the equally small hospital in the town next to ours, and that meant, I guessed, that they only had one chef.

She was evidently making her favorite meals rather than anything out of a box, because we had fried chicken and mashed potatoes, with a side of apple pie and iced cream.

“I might just want to stay here,” my mom said, shoveling mashed potatoes into her mouth. “Good food and no cooking.”

I cast her a questioning glance but could already see that she was kidding. My mom, the free spirit, stuck inside this place eternally? I didn’t think so.

“So what’s been going on at the house?” she asked. “Give me news. Nothing exciting happens in here.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to be,” I told her firmly. “Too much excitement, and you might get hurt.”

“How is that you’re younger than me?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “You act like an old woman.”

Okay, she had me there. Ever since I moved home, I’d felt like the world was on my shoulders, and it was my job to be the responsible party. It was the opposite of my natural inclination, but with my mom hurt...

Still, maybe it was time for me to lighten up a little.

I leaned forward and dropped my voice. “Actually, now that you mention it, there is something a little bit weird about the house.” I paused and lifted my eyebrows, waiting for her to react, and was pleased when she leaned forward.

“What?” she whispered.

“First off, I had to have the whole thing redone to account for the fact that there’s a wheelchair moving in,” I told her. I went through the changes I’d made to where she’d be sleeping and the two ramps I’d had built, then told her I was also planning to repaint the house, at which point she looked shocked.

“By yourself?”

“Well yeah. What’s the problem?”

She turned her head to give me a side-eye. “You’ve seen how big the house is, right?”

“Yes. And I also don’t have much to do, besides visiting you and spying on the neighbor.”

Her face went blank... and then cracked into a wide smile. “You mean Warren?”

“Is that his name? He hasn’t exactly come over and introduced himself yet. He seems kind of...”

Hot. Insanely gorgeous. Rugged. Damaged.

“Cranky,” I finished, realizing that I didn’t want to share any of the words I’d actually been thinking with her.

She shrugged. “He’s not a bad guy. A little reserved, yes, but I’m thinking that’s for a good reason. He used to be a soldier but came home in a hurry. Bought the place without introducing himself to anyone in the neighborhood, but he’s been extremely polite since then. Always helps me with my trashcans and says hello when I see him out and about.”

He said hello to my mother? All he’d done for me was glower at me when my back was turned and walk away from me when I looked at him.

“He helped me with a flat tire once,” my mom said with a knowing glance at me, her mouth curved up in a sly smile.

What the hell was going on here? Was she teasing me? About a man I’d never even met?

“That was nice of him,” I said. “Why are you smirking like you just won a contest or something?”

She pulled her mouth straight. “I’m not smirking.”