Physical Therapy by Z. A. Maxfield Read Free Book Online

I put him at about fifteen. “You"re new here?”
    “Yeah, I just officially hit town last night,” I told him.
    He was standing behind his brother, still peering around at me as though I"d bite.
    “What made you choose St. Nacho"s?” I didn"t think he was complimenting my choice.
    “That"s a good question,” I said. I was going to go on, but Ken took over.
    “Don"t be nosy,” he told Mark.
    Mark lowered his head but only looked marginally mutinous. I guessed that they were close.
    “This is a real nice town,” I remarked.
    “It is,” Ken agreed.
    “It"s too small,” said Mark. “There"s hardly anything to do here.” Ken rolled his eyes. “Someone is feeling hemmed in by small-town life.”
    “I grew up in a small town,” I told Mark. “Sometimes it seemed like the only thing to do was watch paint dry.”
    Mark came around to Ken"s side then. “It totally feels like I"m in jail.” I hoped I didn"t betray the way my body reacted to those words.
    “Mark is a little dramatic,” Ken told me, putting out a metal crutch to move us both aside so a woman with a cart could move past. “Lately he"s been feeling very put upon because when I came home he had to go back to sharing a room with our brother Kevin.”
    Physical Therapy
    27
    “How many of you are there?” I asked. I imagined a group of attractive Ashton boys, all lined up like Osmonds, grinning in family photos. As an only child, that sort of thing always seemed so desirable to me.
    Mark wrinkled his nose. “Five, two girls and three boys, and everyone has to share but his highness , Ken.”
    “I see.” I laughed. “The oldest gets the privilege of sleeping alone?”
    “That, and no one can stand him. He wakes up at all hours of the night, screaming and—”
    “That"s enough,” snapped Ken. More gently, he said, “I"m sure no one else needs to hear our problems.”
    Mark"s eyes held genuine regret. “I"m sorry, Ken.” Ken shook his head. “It"s fine, Mark.” He started past me, and for some reason I couldn"t even explain, I didn"t want to see him go like that.
    “Ken.” I stopped him. “I"m staying at the SeaView Motel and it doesn"t have a kitchen or anything.” I showed him my basket. “Would you and Mark like to get some dinner with me? I"ll buy. Maybe you can show me around a little?” Mark snorted. “If you came here from the SeaView Motel, you"ve probably already seen everything that"s worth looking at.”
    “Mark,” Ken chided. “Mark has practice, and I was going to run him over to the school. We could take a rain check. Or if you want”—he hesitated—“we could get something and eat it there in the bleachers and watch them. His team"s pretty good; they"re five and oh this season so far.” I watched him for a minute after he said it, wondering whether he really meant it or if he was just being polite. A faint flush bloomed on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He looked down. “They"ll just be running drills; it won"t be very exciting.”
    “Cool. I played soccer,” I said. I"d played in school, prison, and with a team from rehab. I wasn"t about to elaborate. “I"d like to see that.”
    “Fine,” said Ken, who shifted and turned away. I thought, right then, that he was regretting inviting me and too much of a gentleman to say so. His brother was looking at him with some surprise. Maybe Ken wasn"t very social.
    I grabbed the rest of the things I needed and met up with the two of them at the checkout. There was only one line, one register, and it had one bored-looking young Latina standing behind it. I noticed that she perked up immediately when she caught sight of Ken, and wondered if he realized it. Izzie had said he was emotionally closed off, so maybe he didn"t know the effect he had on others. It might be hard for him to see how attractive he was if he was used to being a superior athlete. Used to a handsome body that functioned like a high-performance race car. It was probably difficult for him to