Emi pulled away, oblivious to the brewing storm. "I made soup! Well, Isabelle made soup, but I helped! It's in the kitchen if you're hungry!"
"That sounds great, actually."
She beamed, grabbed my hand, started pulling me toward the kitchen.
Natalia grabbed my other hand.
"He needs rest."
"He needs nutrients," Emi countered, her usual sweetness edged with something harder. "Braxton said proper nutrition accelerates healing."
"Braxton also said minimal physical activity."
"Walking to the kitchen is minimal."
"Walking to the kitchen while you drag him like a pull-toy is not minimal."
Oh god.
I looked desperately at Isabelle. She raised her tablet, hiding a smile.
No help there.
Juan had woken up on the couch long enough to observe the situation. He met my gaze, shook his head slowly, then went back to sleep. The universal gesture of you're on your own, buddy.
Skylar pushed off the wall and stalked over. She didn't say anything, just looked at Emi, then Natalia, then me.
