“Yes! Always in the middle of the floor!”
Graham’s dad nodded sagely. “He likes it cold, too. We used to fight over the thermostat before Nancy was diagnosed. He let it go after that, but walked around in his underwear half the time complaining how hot it was.”
A mental image of Graham in his boxer-briefs filled her mind. Couldn’t say she’d mind that. “Control of the thermostat is a reward tactic at our place.” She scratched Gertrude’s ears as she thought. “The video games until three in the morning?”
“Why do you think there’s not a TV in his room? He’d never have put it down if we didn’t regulate it somehow.” His dad angled his head. “Offering to take him camping always did the trick, though. He’d jump at the chance to get outside no matter what.”
“He’s still like that.”
“I’m still like what?” Graham appeared in the doorway and fell onto the love seat beside her, tossing his crutches to the floor. He put an arm around her and let his fingers trail down the skin of her upper arm. Her stomach flipped at the casual contact. Simmer down. “Handsome, funny, charming?”
She kept her eyes on the TV. “More like arrogant, snarky, and whiny.”
“I’ll admit arrogant and snarky but I draw the line at whiny.”
“I don’t envy you the job of being his nurse while he’s injured,” Graham’s dad said.
“Hey!”
His dad shot him the side-eye, looking eerily like Graham in that moment. “Son, do you remember the time you dislocated your shoulder? Stopped us from hitting the parks for weeks. You’re not normally a whiner, I’ll give you that. But anything that restricts you from being active and you turn into a big baby.”
Graham pursed his lips.
Claire took mercy on him and pinched his side, whispering, “You’re not that bad.”
He shot her a lopsided grin and leaned into her ear. “I think you’ve secretly enjoyed taking care of me.”
She shrugged, unable to deny it but unwilling to admit it. He just grinned and settled back, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her shoulder, sending goose bumps up her neck.
At lunch, Graham’s mom came out and the four of them ate around the kitchen table while Graham and his dad relayed stories of camping and their various outdoor adventures while Graham was growing up. His dad told a story of Graham rescuing an inexperienced climber from the side of a rock face, during which Graham remained strangely silent.
While she still loathed the risks he took every time he met his buddies for some outdoor expedition, hearing him talk about it with his dad and witnessing their obvious bond helped her understand why it meant so much to him, and likely where his love for nature started.
“Do you still go camping?” Claire asked his dad.
“Not much,” he admitted. “Only when Graham’s home. I’m not much for going alone.”
“If you’d take me up on my offer to find you a place in Denver, we could go every weekend,” Graham said.
“I’m too old to move,” his dad said in a tired voice that indicated this was a well-worn conversation.
Graham sighed and leaned toward Claire. “I’ll convince them one of these days.”
“I could be persuaded,” his mom started. “If you ever got married and I had grandkids to see.”
Graham choked on his water. “Mom.”
“Do you want kids, Claire?” she asked.
Stay calm. Graham warned you this would happen. “Yes, I do. Someday.”
“Well, if I may,” his mom continued. “You two would have beautiful children. And I don’t think the making part would be too difficult since you were practicing last night.”
Graham groaned and dropped his forehead to the table with a thump.
Claire’s face was hotter than the sun.
“Nancy,” Graham’s dad chided with a poorly contained grin. “You’re embarrassing them.”
She didn’t look the least bit sorry. “Our room is right next door. Honestly.”
Graham sat up and pressed balled-up fists to his forehead. He looked at his mom with incredulous eyes, and finally landed on Claire. “I think it’s time for us to go.”
“Oh, come on,” his mom laughed, “I’m just teasing! Let an old, sick woman have some fun.”
“There is zero fun here.” Graham looked at Claire. “Are you having fun?”
It felt weird to admit, but… “A little. It’s mostly awkward, but a tiny bit fun. Like, ninety-ten.”