I’ll be right back. You need anything else besides pills and that godawful neon-blue liquid you stocked my fridge with?” “Be grateful. Was trying to take care of you,” I mumble. “And now it’s my turn to take care of you,” he says, standing. “You don’t have to.” It comes out like Yu doh haf to. I feel a brush of warm fingertips against my temple, the touch all too fleeting. “I know.”
