I smiled at the departing couple who waved and left, dragging their bags behind them, exhaling over the rim of my coffee cup, sending a waft of steam in their direction. Things had settled into a more normal-yes, still hectic-pace of life with the tournament over and most of the guests for that event gone home with the arrival of Monday morning.
I touched at the bandage over my brow where I'd had three stitches to close the gap the frame of Crew's truck left behind, wincing a bit and trying to remind myself not to do that since it hurt every single time my fingers explored the area. Yeah, because saying, "Don't touch it, Fee," was working. At least the aching headache and disorientation of a concussion wasn't my lot this time around. I'd hit my head hard enough, the ER doctor said, to knock myself out but not quite enough to rattle my brains.
Not even Crew had the courage to make a joke about that.