BFF

Fix her up

Tia – POV

Dr. Lee gave me a proud smile. "Your leg is looking good and strong, so we're going to put the cast on. You can sleep in it, just not bathe with it. You don't need the crutch anymore—this will support your leg function, and you'll be walking more and more. Time to put that leg to work. It needs to learn how to be independent again."

"So basically," Dave said, "she can go about her normal routine?"

Dr. Lee nodded. "Yes. She'll be fine—I promise."

Dr. Lee had been amazing. We'd worked hard together to get me back on my feet, and it was finally paying off.

"I don't want any more prescriptions," I told him. "I'll stick with over-the-counter."

"That's perfect," he replied. "I never let my clients exceed three weeks in bad conditions. We'll do a light Tylenol prescription."

"Thank you, Dr. Lee."

"Thank you, Doc," Dave added.

"No problem at all. Nurse Amber will get you the new prescription."

"Okay."

Amber walked in with a bright smile. "Give me a hug. I'm so happy for you."

I hugged her tight. "Thank you, Amber."

"You're welcome."

I changed back into my clothes, folded the hospital gown, and we walked out together. I felt so good using both my legs.

"Look at my baby, man," Dave grinned.

"I feel so good."

"You look good."

We smiled at each other and got in the car. My phone started ringing.

Incoming Call: Corey

"Yes, son?"

"Ma, I'm hungry."

"I know there's food in there."

"No, it's not," he whined.

Now one thing about me and Dave—we love to eat. And so do Kairi and Corey. We don't play about groceries, so I knew his butt just wanted some fast food.

"What do you want to eat?"

"Chick-fil-A."

"Alright."

Call Ended

"Your kids spoiled, Dave."

"Don't I know it."

Dave pulled into Chick-fil-A, ordered all the food, and we made our way home. As we parked, Dave groaned.

"I'm gon' kill this boy."

Corey had left the gate open again. Dave was done.

We walked into the house and showed the kids some love. I picked up Kenzie.

"What you eating, fat butt?"

She had her whole fist in her mouth like she was tearing some food up, slobber everywhere.

"Corey, what I tell you about leaving my damn gate open?" Dave called out.

"My fault, Pops. I thought I closed it."

"Stop thinking and just check to see if it's closed."

"Alright, damn."

"Corey, get fucked up."

He was seventeen now, getting that entitled teenage man-energy. But Dave wasn't for none of it. He always told Corey, Don't talk me to death. Throw 'em and show me you a man. And I always had to calm him down. But Corey needed these lessons—college and the real world were coming fast.