“Sit down,” I ordered, pointing to a vacant seat by a little garden table. “Take the weight off your ankle. I’ll get some ice.” “Stop fussing, Layne,” he growled. “I’m fine. It wasn’t that bad.” Still, he sat down where I had pointed, and that in itself told me he was in pain. If it were really fine, he’d still be stubbornly on his feet or doing a tap dance just to prove his point.
