Page 5 of Rough

He laid the Kindle in his lap and looked up. “While she’s here, maybe you can have her take a look at that arm of yours. You look like you got shot at and missed and shit on and hit.”

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t. I looked like I’d been in a fight with a Grizzly bear and lost.

“Looks like a four-foot long chunk of hamburger. One of these days you’re gonna get killed.”

“I wasn’t doing anything wrong, Pop. Dumb bitch opened her door while me and the fellas were flying up the 5.”

“That’s been my point since you started riding, dipshit. This traffic isn’t safe for anything short of a fuckin’ tank, let alone a bunch of half-drunken bikers on motorcycles. Whole world’s full of idiots, and most of ‘em live in this state. You need to park that son-of-a-bitch before you go and get your dumb self killed.”

“I ain’t parking it.”

“Alright, then.” His eyes fell to his e-reader. “I’ll get my nurse to push me to your funeral.”

I stood. “I’m gonna make a sandwich. You need anything?”

He nodded. “If you’ve got a minute.”

“Whatever you need, Pop.”

He exhaled, and then looked up. His slight smile slowly diminished, leaving him with a face filled with nothing but need. “I hate to be a burden.”

I met his gaze. “Just tell me what you need.”

“I need my nuts scratched,” he said stone-faced.

I let out a sigh and flipped him the bird as I turned toward the kitchen. “Asshole.”

He chuckled. “I wear it like a badge of honor.”

He was brash and had an abrasive personality, but being exposed to it since childhood allowed me to dismiss damned near everything that spilled from his lips as being nothing more than him masking his true feelings.

He had a great heart, but wasn’t one to allow his emotions to come to the surface. His attitude, however, was impossible to conceal. In recent years we’d become as close as any father and son could be, and although he wasn’t one to ever discuss how he felt, I knew he loved me as much as anyone could.

When I was almost finished making the perfect sandwich, I heard a dull thud. I scrambled to the living room and found him on the floor, halfway between his recliner and the wheelchair.

I bent down and slipped my arm under his shoulder. “God damn it, Pop. What were you doing?”

“A man’s gotta piss from time to time,” he growled. “And having someone get my cock out is pretty fucking demeaning.”

“I just asked you if you needed anything.” I carefully lifted him into his wheelchair. “Not five fuckin’ minutes ago.”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said. “Dig in that pocket of yours and pull me out a handful of dignity, would you?”

For the first time since he’d slipped and fell, I realized he’d lost much more than his ability to walk.

And now, knowing it hurt like hell.

THREE

Tegan

I had never considered myself to be religious, but I was convinced God was no longer looking down on me with a merciless heart.

I held the phone firmly in my hand while I paced my living room floor. “Oh my God. That’s amazing. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “There’s only one catch.”