by JC Wallace
“You push people away because you’re afraid they’ll see the real you. The person inside and they won’t like him. You used to count on people to like who you show to the world. To you he’s gone. Now, you think you’re only the person inside, and he’s not good enough. But he is.”
I shook my head, because I didn’t agree. The man I used to be was great and powerful and accomplished— and lonely and sad.
“Maybe you should get to know him. He’s a pretty great guy,” she said
What would I do without my sister? “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
For a moment the only sound was our breathing. “Don’t say that. If you want to show me anything, show me that you’re the man I believe you to be.”
I could only try. “I have to go, but thanks, Sis. Thanks for standing by me.” Had I ever said sorry in my life and meant it?
She sniffed, and I was only partially repelled.
“You’re my baby brother. As I told you. I’ll do anything for you but stand by and watch you destroy yourself.”
And thank God for that.
“Okay, find me another therapist.”
****
Phase one of my plan was delayed by another set of spasms, which I was sure would send me right back to believing I was better off as I was. But I wrote down what I needed to do and read it over and over. Then I went online and found a picture of Jacob (yeah, kinda creepy) on the city’s Emergency Services website. Damn, being able to look at him, really look at him, I saw the teen I used to know, but now a man. A good man. Someone I would be proud to call mine. This was my inspiration. But I knew I couldn’t do this for him, or anyone else. This had to be for me.
I emailed Jacob, too chicken to call him in case he rejected me. I asked that he not come the following week. That gave me two weeks to get my body and head into a better place. In my email, I asked Jacob to meet me at my house at five PM on July twelfth. I asked Wendy to convince Jacob that I wanted to see him for a therapy appointment only. I wanted my plan to be a surprise. She reluctantly agreed.
In the meantime, I focused on myself as I waited for Jacob’s reply. My plan was to ask him out to dinner on a date. I was actually going to go out into public (if he accepted) for the first time since my accident for something other than a doctor’s appointment.
My gut was tied up in knots, wondering if he’d tell me to fuck off. Bile rose in my throat each time I thought of putting myself on display for others. But I shoved those thoughts away. I took my meds as scheduled, changed how I ate, switched to decaf coffee, and walked. The first day I made it halfway across the back lawn. Three times a day I went out and made it farther each time. My muscles ached, my back was sore, and my feet hurt like hell. I was so out of shape that I was breathless after twenty minutes, but I still did it whether I wanted to or not.
I printed off the exercises that Jacob had sent to me, and I did those, too. They were tough and I had to dig deep to do them, but I didn’t stop. Wendy started to send me those cheesy inspirational memes, with sayings like “It’s your attitude, not your aptitude that will determine your altitude” and “Challenges are what make life interesting; overcoming them is what makes life meaningful.”
Gag me.
So I started sending her back uninspirational quotes. “Adversity: that which does not kill me postpones the inevitable” and “If you can’t learn to do something well, learn to enjoy doing it poorly.” She decided that I was well on my way to being “cured” if I could follow that advice. Easier said than done.
The first rehab therapist I had scared off, John, had agreed to come back (I was pretty sure Wendy had bribed him), and I got to work. I think the sadistic bastard held a grudge, because he worked me until I was sweating, shaking and ready to drop. He was like a drill sergeant, which I needed, and it felt good to be building my strength and endurance again. He made me work on the stairs. I was up to ten. While I could have done more, he made me limit myself to avoid further injury, because once I got started, I ignored the pain, riding on the “no pain, no gain” mentality. He didn’t agree. The spasms still came but had lessened in frequency and intensity by the time two weeks had ended. It was finally the twelfth. Time to man up and see if I could mend fences.
I walked into the bathroom, my nerves already jangling as the time for Jacob to arrive neared. After showering, I went to the sink, staring at the empty space where the mirror had been. I ran a hand over my face, the stubble uneven since I always shaved without my reflection to guide me. I eyed the door of the closet where I’d stashed the mirror upon returning home from the hospital after the accident. I dared to open the door and glared at the mirror covered with a towel as if it was something terrifying.
After a minute, I closed the door unable to return the mirror. I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t ready. Shaving by feel, I took extra time to make sure I got every hair. Despite moving on and getting ready to meet Jacob, the failure of not replacing the mirror felt too much like defeat.
Dressed and in the living room, I watched the clock. Thirty minutes became twenty and then ten and then the doorbell rang. It was as if that sound had gone off in my chest. My pits were sweating and my hands shaking. But I went right for the door and didn’t hesitate opening it.
Jacob’s brow rose upon seeing me. His gaze swept over my body as tangible as his hand. I shuddered. In his eyes, resided the coldness he’d shown me two weeks earlier.
“Hi, Jacob. Thanks for coming.” I smiled wide and stepped aside to let him enter.
He eyeballed me out of the corner of his eye as he stepped in. As usual, he was the image of perfection in his powder-blue V-neck sweater and gray pants. He looked better than I remembered. If he rejected me tonight, I’m wasn’t sure how I would take it. The chances of him doing just that were good given the fuck-off vibe he was giving me.
He walked straight into the living room. He didn’t have his table with him which I ignored. With his back to me, he set his messenger bag down on the couch and said, “Okay, let’s get started.”
When he faced me, he really got the chance to take in all of me. Again, his brow rose. I stepped into the room but didn’t get too close to him. The flustered and confused look on his face was adorable.
“I didn’t ask you to come here for therapy.”
That deepened his brow. “You didn’t?”
The dimple on his chin was so inviting, begging to be licked. My mind was sharper than the other times he’d been there. It was as if I was looking at him through a different lens. Eating better, sleeping regularly, and exercising had really done me some good. I had a long way to go, but I could see the benefits already.
I shook my head. “I hired another therapist.”
The shocked and hurt expression he tried to hide caused pain in my chest.
****
Chapter 10
He quickly brought neutrality to his face. “You could have told me that by email. No need to drag me out here.”
He turned and snatched his bag. When he whirled around, I was right in front of him. He stepped back and bumped into the couch. I smiled wide upon seeing him so flustered and angry and hurt. Those were the cues that he still cared enough and that I might have a chance.
“That’s not why I asked you to come here.”
He crossed his arms. Cool, but not as cold as when he first walked in. My eyes wandered to his lips, wanting to taste, but if I jumped the gun, I would scare the rabbit out of the fox’s den. My stomach flipped somersaults. I could have used some bravado right then, that winner’s attitude I had in the courtroom, but I was pretty sure that would be taken the wrong way.
“I wanted to see you because…”
Fucking terrified.
He relaxed a tad and gave me an assessing gaze.
“Because I missed you.”
There was that shocked expression. He gaped like a fish for a moment and then clamped his mouth shut. I took the opportunity to speak.
“You were right about a lot of things
. I was angry… still am angry, at everyone. The world, the universe, fate, for taking my life.” I rested my hands on my hips and looked down at the floor. Looking at him and admitting my weakness was a double whammy I couldn’t handle right then. “So pissed off all of the time that I couldn’t see what I was doing. I’m still not sure how clearly I’m seeing, but I know this…”
When I looked up, his frown had softened, but there was still wariness in his eyes. “You know what, Paul?” Less venom, his tone sounded open to discussion.
“Back in high school, I was an ass, a self-centered prick who chose popularity and winning, over my heart. I don’t know what would have happened back then if I’d made a different decision about you. But I was letting my need to be the best mess with the connection I felt.” Jacob dropped his arms to his side, and I took that as another good sign. “And you came back into my life at a time I was at my worst, and you still saw something inside of me. You were willing… And I just shoved you away.”
He chewed on his bottom lip, just as he’d done back in high school. I had to suppress the urge to run my thumb over his lip and soothe the bite. “And you just thought I’d come here and accept your apology and excuses and what?”
The urge to tell him off hit me hard. I stepped back, and scrubbed my palms over my face, regaining control.
You knew this wouldn’t be easy.
“No. I’m pretty much convinced you’ll tell me to go to hell, which I deserve. I knew I would have to prove myself worthy of you. So I gave myself two weeks to put up or shut up. I started taking care of myself and doing the exercises you sent to me. I’ve been walking the backyard to build my endurance. I’m up to twenty minutes, and I can do ten stairs.”
“It wasn’t just your physical health that was the problem.” Now he was opening up, his expression, his body language were closer to when he first came to the house. The tightness in my chest relaxed a bit. If we could talk, we might have a chance.
I rubbed at the back of my neck and shifted. I felt as if I was being turned inside out and put on display. Nothing would be private but I had to go that extra mile for Jacob. “I have an appointment with a counselor next week. Frank Eversoll.” Where I would be under a microscope. I didn’t want to go, but everyone I saw, from Wendy to my new rehab therapist, were ringing the same bell. Better to give in than to fight them. They might actually be right.
Again, he crossed his arms, and a flash of defensiveness colored his eyes momentarily. His beautiful amber eyes. “What about the new rehab specialist?”
Was that what had his underwear in a knot? Thinking about him in his underwear wasn’t the place to go right then.
“I couldn’t ask you out to dinner if you were treating me. You know that whole nasty rule of dating a patient. I wouldn’t want to have to sue you now, would I?”
“Dinner?” The corner of his mouth quirked. Oh, I could tell he liked that idea. Using that hint of a smile I moved closer. I was slowly remembering how to do this. How to use my powers for seduction instead of pushing people away.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice low, throaty. I reached up and ran my hand down his arm and thought I felt him shiver. “I’d really like to take you out. This was kind of an ambushed date invitation.”
That brought another quirk to the corner of his lips. “And why should I go out with you?”
Yup, make me work for it. “Because I’m pathetic and you should feel sorry for me?” I grinned.
He snorted and narrowed his eyes.
“Because I’m crippled and deserving of charity? Because I’m the best thing—”
He rested his fingers on my lips. “I get it.” And I wasn’t sure what he meant. “You have two modes right now. Angry, pissed off, leave me alone guy, or aggressive, overconfident bravado guy.”
I dropped my arm. I was so fucking this up. How could I be anything he’d want?
“If I didn’t see someone in the middle somewhere, someone I’d like to get to know, I wouldn’t accept your invitation to dinner.”
It took a moment for me to catch up, but when I looked, his demeanor had changed.
“When I walked in here tonight, your entire energy was different. The air in the house felt less oppressive, less… I don’t know, angry and sad, less like a house of mourning.” He looked me over. “You look good. You’re less pale, the dark circles are gone. And your eyes are quite sexy when you’re not angry.”
His gaze locked with mine, and a shot of lust raced to my groin. Just a look from his gorgeous, soul-seeking eyes was enough to set me on fire. For once I could enjoy the beginning of a relationship and that excited, energetic rush.
When Jacob reached out his hand, I hesitated and then took it into mine. Our palms slid together. The touch, which I’d anticipated as being sensual, was comforting instead. “I’d love to go out to dinner with you.”
I felt triumphant, as if I’d won Olympic gold.
That is until we were in his car headed to the steak joint we’d agreed on. That was when the adrenaline rush from my focus of convincing him to go to dinner morphed into a welling panic. First off, I’d sat in the front seat. Right side of the car but the wrong seat. But that was overshadowed as I thought, what the hell was I doing going out to dinner, in public, where there would be people? I wasn’t wearing a hat, or sunglasses, or a collar to pull up and hide my hideous scar.
You’ll be fine. Stop being such a pussy. You can do this.
Jacob peered over at me, and I forced a fake smile on my face. Really, I wanted to puke. He smiled in return. Within minutes, we pulled into the restaurant parking lot. There were a lot of cars there. Again, I questioned my sanity in thinking up this plan. Too much too soon. That was me. All or nothing.
“Ready?”
My muscles jerked as I started from his voice. I surreptitiously wiped my palms on my pants. “Sure.”
I exited the car before I dug my fingers into the sides of the seat and refused to leave. As we entered, my pulse kicked into high gear and the tightness in my chest increased. I kept my head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone. This was a higher-class restaurant, requiring reservations. I glanced quickly at the hostess (luckily it wasn’t Jerad that night, who knew me well) and mumbled my name. That had been stupid, because she didn’t hear and had to ask again. She smiled, her gaze quickly darting to my scar and back to my eyes. She probably had to work to keep from staring at it, but she remained professional. I wanted to run.
Instead, I motioned for Jacob to precede me as we followed her to the table. My limp seemed more pronounced to me, the constant pain in my back increased. I pictured myself as Quasimodo, and everyone staring at the freak walking by. I rested my hand on Jacob’s lower back, the connection increasing my fortitude.
I’d requested a table in the back, away from the crowd. Unfortunately, being a Friday night, all of the tables were filled. Before the accident, I’d come here at least once a week to wine and dine clients or with men for a prefuck meal. I glanced at the tables praying no one recognized me. So far, the faces weren’t familiar. What if someone I used to know saw me?
The hostess seated us next to the large window overlooking the garden outside. She laid the menus on the table and let us know that our server would be there momentarily. I fiddled with my silverware, my napkin, rearranging it several times in my lap. Eyes were on me, I knew it, even though my gaze was locked on the table. My leg shook. I grabbed my menu pretending to peruse the contents. Oxygen didn’t seem to be making it to my lungs.
“Paul?”
This was a stupid idea. My skin crawled, my stomach ready to spill. I had to get out of there. Yeah, that was the only thing I could do, because if I didn’t…
“Paul.” The forcefulness in Jacob’s tone snapped my head up. My eyes focused on him, and the concern on his face calmed me slightly. “Switch places with me please?” I frowned and he said, “Switch seats with me.”
Before I could decline, he stood. I wondered why he was trying to call more att
ention to me. I did as he asked, and when we were seated, he smiled. It took a moment for me to realize why he had us change seats. My scar was on the left side of my face, which now faced the wall. A short term fix if no one spoke to me. He reached across the table and laid his hand palm up. My hands were clasped in my lap. I pried them apart and slid my palm over his. The contact was exhilarating as well as reassuring.
“It’s just you and me,” he whispered. “Talking, getting to know one another.”
I was caught in his gaze, unable to look away. I nodded. “Okay, let’s see. Ummm… What did you do after graduation?”
He smirked. “Well, first of all, I didn’t graduate from Wilmont High. I moved to Arizona before our senior year.”
“I remember.” When I’d looked for him that year, I’d been disappointed to hear that he’d moved. I’d forced myself to forget him by secretly screwing about four different guys on the football team. I never understood closeted jocks.
He nodded in approval, hearing I knew that he’d moved. “Went to school at Southern Cal and was premed. Decided I didn’t want to be a doctor, so I finished the physician’s assistant classes and passed the exam. Worked in the ER for a while. Then wasn’t sure that’s what I wanted to do. Wandered around the states for a while and then South America.”
I raised my brow at that.
“You aren’t the only one with the lust for travel and adventure,” he said with a chuckle. “Did some stints with Doctors Without Borders. Wandered around the rain forest for a while. It’s one of the most fascinating places on earth if you can put up with insects the size of dinner plates and snakes as long as three Cadillacs. Then I ended up in Bogotá. Met a guy named Franco from Mexico. A doctor.” He sighed and glanced out the window for a moment. “Spent nine months in that place because of him. Believe me, Columbia really isn’t somewhere you want to spend nine months without a good reason.”
He was silent for a moment.
“He was married, kids, the whole nine yards. I can tell you that I didn’t see that one coming. He never mentioned a family, told me he loved me.”
