Ran’s, mixing around us. His nose is cherry red and his cheeks are unnaturally pink.
“What…was…that…all…about?” he gets out between shallow breaths.
I shake my head playfully. “I felt like running from you,” I say in one quick breath, and then try to get back on track filling and emptying my lungs in a reasonably slower manner.
“And you haven’t been doing that this whole time?” Now that we’re steadied, there’s really no reason Ran still needs to hold on to me, but he’s not letting go. He’s holding me tighter. “Haven’t you always been trying to get away?”
“Yeah,” I agree. “But I’ve finally decided to let you catch up with me.”
Ran’s eyebrows draw down faintly. “How’s your leg?”
“It’s fine,” I lie, as I feel all the heat in my body centered around that six-inch strip of skin.
“You sure?” Ran tucks his head down to pull my eyes up to him. “You okay to keep walking? Or am I going to have to carry you?”
“You don’t need to carry me,” I say, biting on my lips. They’re even more chapped than before, the sting of the wind still tearing at them.
“Here.” Ran dips his hand into his jacket pocket and pulls out a tube of chapstick.
I take it from him and pop the cap off. When I run it over my lips, I can’t help but notice the slight tightening in his brow as he watches me coat my mouth. “Thank you.”
“Yeah,” he says, still not blinking. He traces the chapstick over his own lips and I’ve never felt jealous of an inanimate object in my life up to this point, but the envy I have over that stupid chapstick is unreal. I don’t think he does it on purpose, but when he slides his full lips over one another slowly to spread the chapstick evenly on their surface, I just about lose it. My head spins and my mouth tingles and I have to pin back the sigh that wants to slip out from me.
“Okay,” I stammer nervously, trying to regain my self-control. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” Ran grips onto my hand again. “Just one more block. I have someone I want you to meet.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“I’m glad you’re back,” he says, shifting his weight in his wheelchair. His frame is so slight, his wrinkled skin hung so loosely over his bones, that he looks like he hasn’t eaten in months. But judging from the smell and consistency of the puréed contents on the plate resting on a table next to him, I can easily see how that might be the case. “I hope they’re not paying you much, because you aren’t doing a very good job, boy.”
Ran laughs and leans forward, his elbows propped on his knees and his hands clasped in front of him. I share the same small sofa but I’m leaning further back into it than he is, trying to take it all in.
“Dorothy’s set keeps blinking out on her, too.” The elderly man points a craggily finger toward the hall. “I told her you’d be by to look at it, but not to hold her breath because you don’t do very good work.”
“I’ll be sure to stop in and check it out for Miss Dorothy. How have they been treating you here, Tom? How are the ladies?”
“Cranky as hell,” Tom says. Not the answer I was expecting to hear from an 85-year-old man, and I try to stifle a laugh. Ran angles his head back toward me and smiles widely. “They’re old, senile, and none of them have their original teeth.”
“Well then, it sounds like it should be a match made in heaven.” Ran reaches out and gently thumps Tom on the knee. “You’re not looking so great yourself, old man.”
“Caroline would give you a different opinion,” Tom defends, lifting a shaky spoon to his thin lips. He slurps his lunch—if you can call it that—into his mouth and the repulsive sound of it makes my stomach roll. “My sweetie loves this old bag of bones.” The green mush that doesn’t make it in trickles down Tom’s chin and Ran leans over to sweep it away with the cloth on Tom’s lap.
“Well, tell her to get in here and take better care of you. I’ve seen babies make less mess during mealtime,” Ran teases.
Tom lifts his head my direction. “Is this your sweetie, Patrick?”
Ran swivels toward me, his chin tucked over his shoulder. “Tom, this is Maggie.”