Monday afternoon, I noticed that Ryker hadn’t come into work. I looked across at Gavin. “What’s up with Ryker?”
“Took you long enough to ask.” At my glare, he relented. “Bad sprain. He was playing softball this weekend and had a bad fall, almost broke his ankle. It’s a grade 3 sprain, and he has to wear a cast for two to three weeks at least. He’ll be in soon on crutches to do some desk work, but he won’t be working with the crew for a while.”
“Sucks.” From what I knew of Ryker, who seemed to thrive on being active and outdoors, this would probably driving him nuts.
“Yeah.” Gavin typed something on his keyboard. “He told me he’s gonna need to find a place to stay temporarily since he lives on the fourth floor of his apartment building and it doesn’t have a working elevator right now. Ap
