Page 66 of Take Me Home

The bandage was one of the big ones with wide wings, rightover his left eyebrow. Ash could see dark blood already absorbing into it.

“What was he doing?” Ash stalked to the fireplace and noted the fresh logs stacked for their next fire.

“He’sstanding right here,” his father complained.

“Leaning,” Ash couldn’t help but correct him.

“We need coffee.” His mother set about making some, adding, “It’s more of a scrape. It’s not serious. You know head wounds bleed like a stuck pig.”

“Forgive me if I don’t trust your opinion of a serious injury at this point,” Ash muttered. Then, he asked his father, “How’d you trip?”

“If I’m gonna be interrogated, I guess I’ll sit back down.”

“Probably a good idea.”

“Ash,” his mother warned.

“How’d you trip? Are you having an attack?” He scanned for the signs. Clenched fists. Pained grimace. Sensitive, squinting eyes.

“It’s not an attack.” His father shot his mother a hard look, as though they’d taken bets on Ash’s reaction, and she needed to pay up.

“One of the kids left their shoes on the floor,” she said in a placating tone.

“Overexertion, not enough sleep, stress—” Ash ticked off his fingers as he ran through the list they were all familiar with of common precursors to a relapse.

His father slapped his palms on the table. “I tripped on a goddamned shoe.”

Ash froze, surprised by the burst of anger. His mother mouthed for him toCalm down. He knew he should. But what was this if not proof that things were notjust fine? His father could bedifficult, but not usually in this way, raising his voice, pounding on the table. Ash felt vindicated, relieved even, for uncovering the truth, or at least moving in that direction. He’d known better. He’dknown.But being right also came with the spike of fear, the drop in his stomach that he’d so far managed, with his mother’s flimsy optimism, to hold off.

“We’re calling the doctor.” He directed this to her, bypassing the stubborn patient.

Before they could protest—and they would—the front door opened with a cheery jingle of wreath bells, and June stumbled inside. “Oops,” she said when she saw them. She closed the door with a wince and tiptoed through the living room like she might still sneak by. He could smell the smoke on her clothes from here, see smudged mascara under her eyes.

“June,” he barked.

She rolled her eyes. “Can I shower before the lecture?”

Ash’s gaze swiveled from his sister to his parents. They didn’t say a word.

“You were here when I went to bed. When did you leave?” he asked.

She frowned, clocking the bandage on their father’s forehead. “What happened there?”

“Oh, he fell, but it’s okay because, according to the two of them—not actual doctors or anything—it’s not serious.”

Her eyes widened. “Someone’s salty this morning.”

“Where were you?”

“Dude, relax.”

Ash threw his hands up. “The problem here is not how unrelaxed I am. Is this what you’re doing in L.A.? Partying every night?” He didn’t wait for her to respond before turning on his parents. “And it’s not just thehead injury. You could have hurtyour hip when you fell. Why am I the only person who remembers the protocol here? A fall means you see your doctor.”

“Fine,” his mother said. She watched coffee drip into the glass carafe, and Ash knew she was avoiding his father’s eyes. “You’re right. I’ll call when the office opens.”

He itched to push for the after-hours line or a trip straight to the hospital. Was this how they’d been handling his father’s MS? Pretending it didn’t exist? Hoping for the best? He should have come back at Thanksgiving, should have been here the whole time. The twins were too young, too sheltered to step up, and with Maggie and June both out of state, his mother was the only person who could manage his father. It was why he’d offered to stay home another year instead of going straight to college, but his parents had insisted they could handle it without him.

Anger burned at the litany of all his mother’s phone calls over the last four years, all the times she complained about his father’s refusal to take better care of himself, only for her to downplay what was really going on the rest of the time. How could Ash help when he didn’t have all the facts?