When Love Breaks (7 page)

“Hey! Look at you! You made it up there with no problem.” Her smile is wide.

“Yeah,” I say, genuinely amused. “Who’d have thought?”

“I knew you could do it.”

I feel my face heat, and I have a sudden urge to hug her in celebration. I refrain, however, and just thank her. Her warm hand is atop mine again, and I can’t ignore my rapid heartbeat.

God, help me.

“Where’s Elora?” Michael asks, as he lays his coat over a chair.

“She left early.”

“She couldn’t stand you anymore?” he says with a snicker.

I snort.

“No. I told her she could leave early. I knew you were on your way home, so I let her go. Why?”

He shrugs.

“Just wondering. I’d like to meet the woman who single handedly gave you a new lease on life.”

I laugh.

“A new lease? No.” I shake my head, but the more I think about it, the more I think he may be right.

“What’s with the shit eating grin on your face, asswipe?”

I ball up a piece of paper and whip it at him. It’s a direct hit, in the middle of his forehead. He laughs and pitches it back, missing me entirely.

High school jock, my ass
.

“It’s nothing. I’m just in a good mood.”

“For a change,” he adds.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” I try to wave the subject off, but he brings it right back around.

“No, really. You’ve been unusually chipper for a while now.
And,
you haven’t sent her running from the house screaming.” He rubs his chin in an exaggerated manner. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you like this girl.”

My eyes fly to him instantly. Can he see through me? Does he know? I watch his expression go from joking to realization, and I begin to sweat.

“What?” I snap, attempting to dodge the question.

“You
do
like her. I can see it in your eyes.” He’s pointing at me, taunting me, and it’s pissing me off.

“Michael, knock it off.” I swivel my chair away from him and start down the hall to my room. He steps into my path before I’m out of the kitchen.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’re going to tell me what’s going on, and I’m not moving until you do.”

“Seriously? There’s nothing to tell. She works for me, that makes me her boss, in a way, so even if I thought there was a possibility, it would be unethical for her…and me. Just shut up about it.” I try to ram through him, but he stops me with his hands.

“Dude, I don’t know what this chic looks like, or what she’s like, but you’ve definitely got it bad for her. Why don’t you talk to her, feel her out? Maybe, she has feelings for you too.”

I roll my eyes and scoff at him.

“The very idea is ridiculous.”

“Why is it ridiculous? You’re a good guy…most of the time, and she’d be lucky to have you.”

I scoff again.

“Right. Yeah, any woman would be lucky to have someone who will never be able to stand up next to her, or open a simple door for her, because this damned chair is always in the way. I have to look up to every person I meet, Michael. Do you know how inferior that makes a person feel? To know that I’ll never be equal to anyone ever again because I’m half a man? What the hell do I have to offer her? Huh? What? A life of free wheelchair rides and all the burdens she could ever ask for? Get real. I know what she needs, and it’s
not
an invalid.”

I’m pissed, and all I want is to get to my room, but he’s standing, stock still, in front of me.

“Are you done?” I grit my teeth and exhale sharply, but say nothing. “First of all, you’re not
half a man
, you’re three quarters of one. Those doctors took
part
of your legs, but now I’m beginning to think they took your brain too.” My eyes dart back to him. “Got your attention now, do I?” I look back away from him. “This self-pity thing you’ve got going on is getting really old. Just because your legs are shorter than the average person does
not
make you less of one. You’re still my brother, and you’re still stupid no matter what your height is at the moment. You want to be whole again? Then fucking go to therapy. Go get some new legs, and show this girl how much you care about her. Because I’ve never seen you fight
against
something so hard in my life. And,
that’s
how I know you’re in love with her.”

We both remain still, panting from the words we exchanged. I’m pissed, and all I want to do is get out of here. Now, of all times, I wish I had legs to run far away, but all I can do is roll to my room. A minute passes, maybe two, and Michael finally lets go of my chair. I immediately push myself down the hall to my room, slamming the door behind me.

A book I’d been reading, that lay on my desk, suddenly flies from my hand and hits the wall, as my anger and frustration comes out. I’m so pissed right now. I’m pissed at my situation, I’m pissed at my brother’s goading but most of all, I’m pissed that he might be right. Am I in love with her? Does she have feelings for me? What if I pursue this, and I’ve read her wrong? I’ll be mortified, and our relationship, whatever that is, will be changed forever. On the other hand, what if it
does
work out? What if she’s waiting on me to make a move? I scoff and immediately dismiss the notion.

6

LOGAN

S
he bursts through the doorway like a gale force wind, pausing only slightly to close the door behind her. I instantly notice that she’s not wearing her usual scrub uniform. Instead, she’s wearing a figure flattering, fitted t-shirt and a pair of snug, blue jeans. I’ve never been able to study her shape before, since the work clothes she wears are anything but tight, but I take this opportunity to do just that. She’s perfect.

“We’re going out!” she announces, then she continues farther into the house.

“Excuse me, what?” I say, trying to comprehend what just passed between her lips.

“You heard me, and I won’t take
no
for an answer.” She nods satisfactorily with her hands on her hips, as if it’s a done deal.

“Elora…” I whine a bit; I’ll admit it.

“Logan, you have to get out. You’ve been cooped up here for way too long. You need to feel the sun on your face, the wind in your hair, and hear the birds chirping in the trees. You need this,” she says, with her hands tucked into her back pockets.

“I don’t go out.”

“Why not?”

“You know why not.”

“No. I know that you tell me you don’t like it, but you’ve never said why. So, give me one good reason I should let you stay at home.” She crosses her arms and taps her foot awaiting my reply. I smirk then grin at the sight before me. She looks like a petulant child who’s trying to convince her parents to give in to her demands. I snort and roll my eyes.

“You know, you don’t fight fair.”

“I fight very fair. You’re just mad because you know I’m right.”

I roll my eyes again.

“How’s this going to work? I’ve never practiced getting in and out of a car.”

“Well, you’ve mastered all the other transfers, chair to car and back again, so it shouldn’t be that much different. Besides, I can help you.”

“No,” I simply say.

“No?”

I shake my head.

“You’re saying
no
to what? No helping you, or no car ride at all?”

I stay silent for a moment, letting her twist in the wind. Her brow furrows as she pouts, and I can’t hold out anymore.

“No helping me.” She squeals and claps rapidly while hopping up and down, in realization of my agreement to go out with her. “I’ll go on your little outing, but you’re not helping me at all. If I fall onto the ground, it’ll be my responsibility to hoist myself back up. Capiche?”

She nods excitedly, and before I know it, her arms are around me. I’m stunned at first, but my arms automatically reciprocate. Her hair smells good—almost flowery. Her cheek brushes against mine, and I can’t help but notice how soft it is. I’m not sure if this was planned, or if it was out of instinct, but here we are, hugging. I close my eyes and savor this moment, however brief it might be. She stills slightly, in realization I guess, then pulls back slowly.
No. I don’t want it to end.
We stare at each other, our arms still touching. We’re both speechless. I watch, seemingly in slow motion, as she licks her bottom lip, then pulls at it with her teeth. I’ve seen her do this a thousand times but somehow, this time is different. My breath hitches, and her eyes sink to my mouth. Is she thinking about…

Then, she suddenly seems to recover herself and looks anywhere but at me. Smoothing a strand of hair that had escaped from her ponytail, she straightens.

“S—so, I think we should get, um…going then.” Her awkward stutter makes me wonder. Did she feel something? Is her heart beating as fast as mine? Can she tell how attracted I am to her? I do a quick mental check to make sure my desire isn’t outwardly obvious. It’s difficult to talk, but I manage.

“Um, sure. I could use the fresh air—I mean because it’s hot in here—not because I’m hot, or you’re hot, but because it’s a nice day out, and the furnace is still on, and…”

Ugh! Shut the fuck up!

She smiles shyly.

“I know what you mean,” she says as our eyes meet briefly, but I can tell she’s still avoiding eye contact with me.

Oh, God, please just let this be like one of those dreams where you go to work or school in your underwear.

I wheel myself toward the foyer closet and grab a light jacket. It’s unseasonably warm for late winter, but judging by the way my body reacted to her, I won’t need more than this.

She opens the door for me and steps to the side to allow me to roll out. The threshold is raised, so I have to pop my front wheels up a bit. She smiles as the cool breeze winds through my hair. I smile back at her for the same reason. Her wind-blown look is just a beautiful as every other look she has.

As I turn the corner from my front walk, I see a shiny, black sedan parked in my driveway.

“Is that your car?” I ask, perplexed. It’s funny, I pictured her as more of an SUV type. My suspicions are confirmed a few seconds later.

“No. It’s my brother’s. Mine is higher off the ground, and I thought you might have trouble getting into it. My brother was kind enough to trade vehicles with me today.” She smiles sweetly.

“Well, that was nice of him.”

“Yeah. I’m not much for conventional cars. I like to be able to put it in four-wheel drive and go.” She giggles, then opens the passenger’s side door and motions to me. I take a deep breath and steel myself for the inevitable crash to the ground.

“And, if you think I’m going to help you at all well, then, I guess you don’t really know me,” she says, feigning disinterest but with a slight smirk.

“But, what if I fall on my face?” I say, teasing her right back.

“Well, I suppose you’d better not. This concrete is very unforgiving. I wouldn’t want your pretty-boy face to get injured.”

“
Pretty-boy?
” I raise my voice in faux indignation. “I’ll have you know that it’s anything but pretty to start with, so there’s really nothing to worry about.” I smirk at her but as I do, I see her shy smile, and a blush washes across her face. I wonder what that’s all about.

“Can we stop talking and go, Mr. Procrastination?”

“A pretty-boy and a procrastinator? You really think highly of me, don’t you, Miss Sassy Pants.”

I grin as her mouth pops open at my comeback. I don’t think she was expecting that. Inwardly, I hope I didn’t go too far.

“Just for that, I’m not telling you where we’re going,” she says stubbornly, and she leans against the side of the car.

“Okay, okay, I give,” I say, grinning. “I’m going. I’m just trying to size up my obstacle.”

She opens the back door and retrieves a transfer board. Then, laying it between my chair and the seat of the car, she watches as I carefully slide over. It isn’t as bad as I’d thought. She grins victoriously at me then closes my door.

“So, where are you taking me?” I ask. She glances over at me, while driving, and smiles.

“I’m not sure I should tell you.” I give her a sideways glance. “Oh, all right. We’re going shopping.”

“Shopping? For what?”

I’m alarmed.

“Groceries,” she simply says, then turns her focus back to the road.

Not more than ten minutes later, we pull into a spot adorned with a disability sign.

“Not here,” I say, adamantly. She looks at me, puzzled.

“But, you’re—”

“Not here,” I say again, interrupting what I know was about to come from her mouth. She stares at me for a few seconds longer, then puts the car into reverse.

“This one’s fine.” I point to a parking place farther away from the entrance. She pulls in and parks.

“It’s okay to use that space, you know,” she says, a little irritated, I think. “You do own the placard to show you deserve it.”

“I don’t need a special parking spot just because I don’t have legs,” I snap. “I can make it inside the store just fine. Now, are we going to do this, or not?”

Her face pales momentarily, and I suddenly become aware of my harsh tone. Before I can apologize, she exits the car to retrieve my chair. Setting it out in front of me, she opens it up, crosses her arms at her chest, and leans against the rear door, ignoring me completely. I hesitate, wondering what, if anything, I should say to her. I choose silence.

We walk, well,
she
walks. I roll toward the entrance. Her strides are long, and I have to strain a bit to keep up with her. She grabs a shopping cart and begins putting produce into it. One thing after another gets dropped carefully inside. She’s said nothing since I snapped at her. I should say something.

“Are you going to ask my opinion on what to get?”

“Nope,” she says, then keeps on going. I catch up to her and try again.

“What if I don’t like cantaloupes?”

She looks down at me, melon in hand.

“You don’t like them?” Her tone is chilled.

“I like them just fine.”

“Great,” she says with an overly sweet, exaggerated, smile, then looks away and continues on.

Wow. She’s really pissed at me. I try another tactic. Moving around a table of bananas, I head her off, essentially blocking her from moving forward. She stops just short of running into me.

“What the…” Her brow furrows, when she’s forced to stop abruptly.

I grab onto the front of the cart to ensure I have a captive audience.

“I’m sorry, okay?” I say, although it’s not my most sincere apology.

“Are you?”

“Yes, I am. I didn’t mean to snap at you back there.”

She snorts then rolls her eyes.

“Hey,” I say in a gentler tone. “I really am sorry. This is my first time outside of my house. You have to understand, there’s a certain mentality you have to adjust to when you’re eligible to park in a handicapped spot. Cut me a little slack, okay?”

I see her face soften at the realization of my confession. She then exhales quietly.

“I’m sorry too. I just wanted to make your first outing as easy as possible, but at the same time, I guess I don’t think of you as being different than anyone else. I forgot that this is a big adjustment for you. I’ll try to be more considerate.” She smiles, and I’m relieved.

“Thank you. Next time, I’ll try to explain things instead of getting angry.”