Page 22 of Crazy for You
Colton lowered his arm with a smidge of confusion swimming in his gaze.
I didn’t know how much he knew of ALS, or what his mom had told him. “He has no use of his hands anymore.”
Colton's features relaxed, and sadness flashed in his eyes. That was a typical reaction when anyone met Dad.
Dad typed in, “Nice to see you too. Are you happy to be home?”
Colton winced at Dad’s question. “I miss my friends.” Then he regarded me. “I’m sorry I hit your daughter with my truck. She came out of nowhere.”
My breath hitched, and I shook my head at Colton.
He bit his bottom lip. “You didn’t tell him?”
Nan, who had been quiet up until then, cleared her throat as she pushed off the door. “I need to reposition your dad in bed. I made some iced tea. Why don’t you and Colton get some?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Dad’s stern look as he entered words into his speaking program.
Nan placed her hand on my shoulder. “Go. You can explain later.”
I was grateful for Nan and how she was trying to downplay the situation, but I wasn’t moving. I knew better. It was one thing to avoid tough conversations about the future, which I knew Dad understood. But getting hit by a car wasn’t something Dad would brush off or take lightly.
“Skye, what is Colton talking about?” Dad asked.
I might as well get this over with. “I’m fine, Dad. It was nothing.”
“Is that how you hurt your elbow?” Nan asked, seemingly forgetting that she was trying to come to my rescue.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How many times have I told you to be careful and pay attention? Did you have your earbuds in?” Dad asked.
I couldn’t remember if I did or didn’t, so I shrugged. “I don’t think so. It’s just a scratch, Dad.” I kept my voice soft. I didn’t want to argue. Normally I would have. Dad and I had had several arguments about skateboard safety.
Dad narrowed his eyes. Even though he couldn’t reprimand me in his hard tone, I knew better. Just that fatherly look made me hear his words as if he were speaking. “Young lady, how many times have I told you?”
I hadn’t fallen at the skate park or outside in the driveway. I’d gotten hit by a truck—or rather tapped, which was the way I looked at it.
Colton rescued me. “It was my fault, Mr. Lawson.”
Dad was busy typing with his eyes. “Admirable, son. But my daughter knows not to skate around traffic or cars.”
I hung my head briefly, ashamed that Dad was scolding me in front of Colton. Georgia would have been no big deal, but a boy—and one I had a crush on—was horrifying.
“Randall,” Nan said. “Let’s get you ready for the night.”
That was my cue to leave. I blew Dad a kiss, then eyed Colton, giving him a silent message to follow me.
But he didn’t budge.
“Colton,” I said.
His six-foot-plus frame seemed frozen like a statue. “I’m sorry, sir.” The undertones in his voice led me to believe he was not only sorry for hitting me, but for Dad’s ALS.
“Colton,” I said again, but the computer voice filled the room.
“Can you help Skye change the oil on her car?” Dad asked.
Colton lowered his shoulders, which had been almost up to his ears. “Yes, sir. Maybe not tonight, though.”
