She didn’t respond for so long that he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Then she said, “It’s my stump” in a voice so small and quiet that it hurt him. Catie was never small and quiet.

“You bruised it when you fell?” Putting aside the dustpan, he made himself go and get the vacuum. She’d stop talking to him if he made it a big deal.

“It’s swelling,” she said when he got back, then swallowed. “I can feel it.”

He knew that meant she had to remove the prosthesis. “Can you walk on the leg?”

“I can walk on my stumps,” she muttered.

“Sure, and get a shard in there.” He raised both eyebrows. “You’re just being dumb stubborn now.”

Her lower lip quivered, shattering him. “I hate you sometimes.”

“I know.” He kept it together, kept things light, through sheer raw will. “But you also know I understand injuries, so let’s get you to your room where you can sulk in luxury.”

It took her three more minutes to say, “Fine.”

Not saying anything in return, he just went to her side, bent, and put his arm around her waist. She slid her own arm around his shoulders, then used him and her uninjured leg as braces to get herself up.

He caught the wave of relief on her face when her other leg held firm. But the spark of joy was fleeting, her expression settling back into grim lines as they walked toward her room. It didn’t take them long to get there.

“Bed or chair?” he asked.

“Bed,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

He left the moment she was down in a seated position on the edge of the bed. Catie would not want him nearby right now—that he knew without having to be told. But worry gnawed at him, and he couldn’t keep still. The first thing he did was to track down both a heating pad and an ice pack. He’d known she’d have both; she was a runner.

Since he didn’t know which one she’d need, he prepared the heating pad, then took both it and the cold pack to her door. Knocking, he wasn’t surprised not to get a response. “Hey, I’m leaving a heat pad and an ice pack outside your door.” Then he forced himself to get the hell away from her door and return to where the vase had shattered. He wanted to get that cleaned up so that Catie wasn’t at risk of injuring herself on any stray shards.

He was all but done when he heard her door crack open, then close moments later.

He exhaled. At least she’d taken what he’d left.