Wesley closed the freezer door and concentrated on closing the large plastic bag filled with ice cubes. “Making an ice pack.”
“I can see that.” Nichole picked up a stray ice cube from the floor and tossed it in the sink. “Why? Did you hurt your knee at the Pioneers Camp?” She’d met with the owners of Tally’s Corner Market and secured them as a vendor for her app. Chase had offered to take Wesley to the camp. They both had convinced her nothing would happen. Nothing other than fun with the other kids. Worry sheared through her.
“It’s not for me.” Wesley bent his left knee and his right as if to prove he remained in perfect health. “Chase needs it.”
“Chase?” Nichole touched her hair as if she suddenly cared what he thought about her appearance. “He’s here?” He was only supposed to drop Wesley off. They hadn’t planned anything else. Not like a date or dinner. She glanced at the ice pack. “And Chase asked you to get him an ice pack.” Another worry sliced through her. What had happened?
“He’d never do that.” Wesley shook his head and wrapped a kitchen towel around the bag of ice. “But he really needs it.”
“How do you know that?” Nichole blocked Wesley’s exit.
“I just do.” He avoided looking at her and fiddled with the edge of the towel.
“What happened?”
“You can’t tell anyone.” Wesley looked around as if making certain no one else stood in the kitchen. His voice was tense and determined. “You have to promise, Mom. You can’t even tell Chase that you know.”
“I promise.”
Wesley eyed her and shook his head. “You need to promise on Great-gramma’s favorite glass pie dish.”
“It’s that serious?” she pressed. They only reserved Great-gramma’s favorite pie pan for unbreakable vows. Things like promising to only hit the snooze button twice in the morning. Or to do one kind thing for a stranger each day. Or never leaving anyone behind.
His nod was too solemn, his gaze too somber.
“Then I promise on Great-gramma’s favorite pie dish.” Nichole took the ice pack and sealed the top of the bag tightly.
“Chase hurt his shoulder at Pioneers Camp, but he doesn’t want anyone to know.” Wesley grabbed the bag from Nichole and hugged the ice pack as if the cold would cancel his confession.
“But you know,” she said.
Wesley arched one eyebrow. “Because I was right there beside him when it happened.”
“Were you involved?” Neither Wesley nor Chase would have talked each other out of any fun at the camp.
Wesley shook his bangs out of his eyes. “Sort of. But it wasn’t my fault or Chase’s.”
Nichole tilted her head at him and waited. Wesley relied on the very same argument quite often, as did Ben, when the boys wanted to protect each other. Now Wesley wanted to protect Chase. Made Chase an ice pack and made Nichole swear on Great-gramma’s cherished pie dish not to tell anyone about Chase’s injury. Her son had bonded with Chase. And she had done nothing to stop it. She’d done little to stop herself. Nichole concentrated on Wesley. She’d deal with breaking bonds later.
“Beau Bradford challenged Chase to the obstacle course.” Wesley wiped his hand underneath his nose. “Chase accepted and won.”
“If he won, then he couldn’t have gotten that hurt,” Nichole argued, and cautioned her concern to back off. What could’ve happened on a kids’ obstacle course? Between the tire race and balance beams she’d once seen in the school gym, she couldn’t imagine Chase could’ve put much strain on his shoulder.
“Mom.” Disbelief amplified his round eyes and his stunned tone. “Chase never used his right arm the rest of the morning. Not once.”
“How do you know that?”
“I stood beside him the whole time,” Wesley said. “On his right side.”
Wesley had never left Chase’s injured side the rest of the morning. No doubt he’d been guarding Chase. That was Wesley’s way—to always look after the ones in need. Nichole grabbed the ice bag. “Where is he?”
Wesley pointed behind her. “On the back porch.”
Nichole spun around and hurried onto the porch. Chase sat on the couch, head back, eyes closed. He braced his right arm in his lap. His entire face pinched together and held. An ache punched through her core and she hurt for him.
Wesley tripped over the door ledge. Chase’s gaze landed on Nichole and the shadows returned, locking her out. He straightened, started to push himself off the couch.
Nichole rushed over to his side and pressed the ice bag toward him. “You need to sit back and put this on your shoulder.”
“It’s...” Chase dropped back against the couch.
“Totally not fine.” Nichole sat next to him and handed him the ice.
“Sorry, Chase.” Wesley shuffled his feet and muttered at the ground. “Mom figured out you were hurt.”
“That’s a mom’s job.” Weariness, not irritation or anger, coated his words. “It’s what makes your mom the best, and you, too. Thanks for getting me an ice pack.”
Wesley perked up and pointed at the ice bag. “I even wrapped it in Mom’s special towel. Whenever she makes me an ice pack, she tells me that towel is the secret healer, even though it has so many hearts and flowers all over it.” Wesley grimaced as if hearts and flowers ruined his taste buds.
“I need all the secret healing I can get.” Chase set his hand on the flowery towel as if wanting to absorb every flower, heart and any good energy.
“Wesley, go jump in the shower and then get everything you need for the farm.” Nichole watched him race toward the door, then she called out, “And make sure you wash all the mud off your face, hair and body.”
“I got this, Mom.” Wesley’s footsteps pounded up the stairs to the second floor.
“Wesley gave me his version. Now I want yours.” Nichole dropped onto the couch beside Chase. “What exactly did you do?”
“I didn’t
