Bottom line—his brain worked differently from the rest of the Cutlers, and while he had no doubt they loved him, they’d never really understood him.
And yet here they were, ready to smother him with love in the only way they knew how. “Really, I’m fine.”
“You sure?” his mom asked.
“Very.”
“Okay then. Tell us everything.”
“You already know everything,” he said. “Mateo told me he called you.”
“He said you were okay and that visiting hours started at nine A.M. The end. Honestly, both you boys need phone manners.”
Levi glanced at the clock on the wall. It was five minutes before nine.
“Your nurse let us in early,” she said.
Translation: she’d badgered the front desk until they’d caved. No one, and he meant no one, had ever been able to tell Shirley Cutler what to do.
“She said you have a concussion,” she said. “No one would tell us anything about Jane.”
He felt a twitch begin behind his eye. Could one feel a vessel bleed? And if it was bad enough, could he pass out and miss the rest of this visit? “Who’s manning the store?” he asked.
“We’re opening an hour late,” his mom said.
This was a shock. The store his family owned and operated was called Cutler Sporting Goods, located in the Tahoe area. It was closed for Easter and Christmas, and nothing else ever. The store had its ebbs and flows like anything else, but it was largely successful. Mostly because Hank Cutler was so tight with money he squeaked when he walked.
“So,” his mom said. “Where’s Jane?” She looked around like maybe Levi was hiding her somewhere in the tiny room.
“I’m probably going to be discharged soon,” he said, hoping to distract from the fact that the girlfriend he’d made up last night had never really existed. “You guys didn’t have to all come check on me.”
“Oh, we didn’t,” his sister, Tess, said. “We came to meet your girlfriend.”
“Where’s Mateo?” his mom asked. “He’ll give me a straight answer.”
“Shirl, listen to the boy,” his dad said. “Everyone’s fine, and he would know otherwise.”
“Uncle Levi!” Peyton yelled, jumping up and down. “Grandma said you might be getting married soon. Can I be the flower girl?”
Levi looked at his mom, who had the good grace to wince. He shook his head at her, then smiled at Peyton. “Hey, sweetness. And there’s no wedding on the horizon.”
“That’s okay!” The six-year-old beamed at him, her two front teeth missing. “Hospitals smell bad. Like medicine and burnt toast and Grandpa when he forgets to spray after going potty.”
“Peyton,” Tess said, sounding like she was holding back a laugh. “You can’t possibly smell all those scents at once.”
“Actually, you can,” Levi said. “The human nose can distinguish at least a trillion different odors.”
His mom, dad, and sister stared at him, but Peyton laughed in delight. “Is a trillion a lot?”
“A lot, a lot,” he said.
“More than the stars in the sky?”
“In our galaxy, yes,” he said. “But not in the universe.”
His dad tossed up his hands. “He gets his head bashed in, but can still cite weird random science facts.”
“That’s why he beats you at Trivial Pursuit,” his mom said. “It’s also why he can fix anything and everything. It’s how he’s wired, Hank, you know that.”