“Heli-skiing? Really? You just tore your ACL, and you’re telling my brother he should try heli-skiing? What were you thinking? Do you have any idea how lucky you were to come away from that trip with only an ACL tear? Do you have any idea how close Alec came to being a quadriplegic? Do you? Because that could still happen, you know. Sit-skiing is still dangerous—probably even more so than regular skiing. What were you thinking?”
“You said that already.” Seth let out a breath and leaned against the doorjamb. He looked so unaffected and unrepentant that her fingers itched to slap that look off his face.
She glared at him, hating him for not taking life more seriously, for not valuing her brother’s life, and for wriggling his way into her heart. Something inside her cracked, and tears started to sting the backs of her eyes, making her hate him all the more.
“Finished?” he asked.
Grace looked away from him, feeling miserable. Yelling at him was supposed to make her feel better. It was supposed to coerce a heartfelt apology from him, accompanied by a promise to somehow stop her brother from looking into sit skiing and mountain biking. What was wrong with wheelchair basketball and coaching? What was wrong with going out to dinner and to the movies like normal people?
Grace should have known Seth would be incapable of stopping there. He couldn’t resist trying to bring everyone into his high-risk world of extreme play—even her paraplegic brother. It had been useless to come here, thinking she could convince him otherwise.
Before the tears gave way, Grace spun on her heel, intending to run to her car. But a strong hand caught her arm. “Where do you think you’re going? We haven’t even begun to talk about this.”
Grace pulled her arm away and frowned. “So talk already. I’m done.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Seth said under his breath. Then he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Would you like to come inside first? You’re wet, and it’s more comfort—”
“No.”
“Okay, but I just got done with a workout, and my knee’s aching, so I hope you don’t mind if I take a seat.” He plopped down on the step right outside his door and straightened his injured leg. His hands clasped around his bent leg as he looked up at her.
Grace folded her arms and took a step back. “Why did you tell my brother he should try heli-skiing?”
“I didn’t,” Seth said. “He asked about my injury, and I told him how it happened. He wondered whether any paraplegics had ever tried it, and I told him that based on the pictures I’d seen in the company’s office, several people had. I didn’t put the idea into his mind, he did.”
“And wheelchair mountain biking? Was that his idea as well?”
Seth shook his head. “No, that was me. Mountain biking’s kind of my thing, and I saw a guy doing the wheelchair version of it a few years back, so I told your brother about it. Not because I wanted him to give it a try or anything, more because I thought it was pretty cool.”
“Cool?” Was he joking? “You think careening down a rocky, uneven mountain on four wheels with only hand controls is cool? Are you insane?” Evidently Seth had fallen off his bike one too many times and hit his head hard.
Seth leaned forward and stood slowly, moving closer to Grace. She took a step back, feeling rain on her face and nearly falling when her foot found air instead of concrete. Seth’s hand reached out to steady her then he tugged her closer, out of the rain. Her skin sizzled where his fingers gripped her arm.
Seth’s eyes searched her face, so close that if he dipped his head, he would be within kissing distance. She felt the warmth of his breath, and her breath caught in her throat. He wouldn’t really kiss her, would he? Not when she was feeling the urge to punch that rugged nose of his. Not even Seth was that stupid. Her body stiffened, ready to shove him back if he moved any closer.
“It is cool, Grace,” he finally said. “And so are all the paraplegics I see pushing their way to the end of a marathon, competing in the Paralympics, swimming, playing basketball, skiing, or not letting their body keep them from doing whatever it is they happen to love. It’s incredibly cool.”
Fresh tears pricked at Grace’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall. If they were talking about anyone else, this wouldn’t be an argument. She’d be in full agreement. But when it came to Alec, the worst-case scenario overshadowed the coolness factor big-time.
“Didn’t you see the look in Alec’s eye when he told you about it?” Seth said. “The excitement? The spark?”
Grace nodded as a traitorous tear escaped, running down her cheek. That was the worst part about it all. Before Alec’s accident, she’d seen that spark many times—whenever he came up with some new adventure or hare-brained idea for them to try. Which was also how Grace knew it wasn’t just talk. Alec would follow through with everything—even the mountain biking.
“What if he gets hurt again?” Grace said. “What if his diagnosis changes from paraplegia to quadriplegia? Or worse? What then?”
“That’s his choice to make—his risk to take.”
“You don’t get it.” Grace turned away from Seth and dropped down on the top stair of his porch, too exhausted to stand any longer. Rain dotted her jeans, but she didn’t care. “He wants me to start working out with him so he can get in shape for this summer and next year’s ski season. But I can’t do it. I can’t. I’ll blame myself if anything bad happens, and it will be like high school all over again. I just don’t have it in me to do a repeat of the last ten years. I don’t.”
Seth sat beside her and leaned forward enough to see her face. “Are you telling me you blame yourself for his paraplegia?”
“Of course I do. It was my fault.” She stared out into the dark and rainy night, focusing on the rippling reflections of the moon in scattered puddles. Her surroundings should have felt soothing and peaceful, but they weren’t. It felt more like an eerie and haunted forest.
“We grew up in Colorado and both loved to ski,” Grace said. “But on the morning of March twenty-sixth, we woke up to twelve inches of fresh powder in our yard, which meant even more snow in the mountains. My parents agreed to let us go skiing, but Alec had a test coming up and didn’t want to miss one of his classes. I was determined to go, though, and since he didn’t want me going alone, he skipped school and came anyway.” The lump in Grace’s throat seemed to grow larger as she relived that horrible day. “There was a terrain park at the resort, and Alec loved trying new tricks off one of the larger ramps. I cheered him on and dared him to do a back flip. When he did, one of his skies caught on some snow. It threw him off balance, and he landed on his back.”
Grace stared at the puddles as the plink, plink of raindrops landed in them. Talk about it, let it out, a counselor had once encouraged. It’s the only way to move on. So Grace had talked about it with her counselor, her parents, and Alec. She’d cried and apologized over and over and over again, and Alec had told her that it wasn’t her fault. It had been his choice to go, his decision to try the back flip, his ski that had been caught. But no matter how much she talked or how many people told her it was only an accident, that heavy, horrible feeling of guilt would never leave. Even now, ten years later, it felt heavier than ever.
Seth’s arm came around her back, and Grace let him pull her close. His hand moved up and down her arm in a soothing gesture, but he said nothing. Which was a relief. How many times had she heard, “It wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. Stop blaming yourself.” How many times had people tried to comfort her using words that did absolutely no good?
“Do you think your brother still blames you?” Seth finally said.
Grace rested her head against his shoulder, soaking up his warmth and his strength. “No, but I still blame myself.”
Seth nodded. “Who wouldn’t?”
Grace lifted her head and looked him in the eye. It was one of those rare moments when they didn’t twinkle back. Instead, they were filled with understanding and sympathy. “I still feel as horrible as I did
that day the doctor told us the news,” she said.
Seth’s fingers moved to brush some hair from her face then trailed down her cheek, leaving a myriad of goose bumps in its wake. “Which is exactly why you should help him work out and be there when he gives skiing another try.”
That was the last thing Grace had expected to hear. The touch that had been so soothing, so wonderful, suddenly felt like a jolt, and she jerked away. “What?”
His arm fell from around her shoulders, making Grace shiver even with her hoodie on. “Why do you feel so guilty, Grace?”
Wasn’t it obvious? “Because my brother’s a paraplegic.”
“Yes, but what you really feel guilty about is that he can’t do the things he used to be able to, right? That everyday things are hard for him?”
Where was Seth going with this? “Well, yeah. I basically took his life away.”
Seth leaned back on the palm of his hands, and a little of that teasing spark darkened his eyes. “No you didn’t, Grace. Learning to do the things he used to do will make him feel alive again. But if you fight this, if you try to take that away . . .” He voice drifted off.
Grace frowned, not liking that perspective at all. “So I’m supposed to put on a positive face and help get his body back into shape, only to watch him risk it again doing crazy stunts?”
“Yes.”
That seemed so wrong to her. So opposite of everything she felt. Besides, there was so much more to life than skiing or mountain biking. Why couldn’t Seth and Alec see that?
“Life isn’t all about having fun, you know,” she said. “It’s about learning and growing, making a difference and doing something meaningful. Why can’t Alec focus on that instead?”
Seth studied her for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “You’re right, there’s more to life than fun. You’re the one who taught me that. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have fun while doing all those other things, and I think we can both agree that your brother is in some serious need of some fun in his life.”
Grace suddenly felt all antsy and out of sorts. It happened every time she felt so sure about something, only to be proven wrong. She hated being wrong, especially if it made Seth right. “I don’t like you very much right now.”
A chuckle sounded, and Seth’s arm came around her once again, pulling her up against him. “Then it’s a good thing I like you enough for the both of us,” he said, making her feel even more out of sorts, only in a different way. He nodded toward his door. “What do you say we go inside and blow this off with some boxing?”
“What?” Was he serious? Grace leaned to the side so she could see his face.
“You do want to punch me, right?”
He was serious—well, as serious as Seth could be when he was teasing her. “Yeah,” she said, wondering where this was going.
His arm fell from around her, and he stood, holding out his hand for her to take. “Then come inside and punch away.”
Grace couldn’t help but smile. How could she resist an invitation like that? But she should resist. She should walk back to her car, climb in, and leave temptation behind. If only he weren’t smiling at her in that way and making her feel all warm and bubbly. Grace couldn’t bring herself to say no. “Only if you have some kind of chocolate and nut combination to offer.” There, that was her out. If Seth didn’t have something that fit the description, Grace would leave. She would.
His eyes practically twinkled. “Does Rocky Road count?”
It was like he knew Rocky Road was one of her favorite ice-cream flavors—one she always turned to when life went sour. Like tonight.
Whatever willpower Grace had left slipped through the cracks, and she found herself placing her hand in his and allowing him to pull her up.
He had promised she could punch him.
LIGHT FOOTSTEPS ECHOED behind Seth as he led the way to his kitchen. Tonight had definitely taken an unexpected turn for the better, and Seth planned to milk it for all it was worth. The odds of Grace ever showing up on his doorstep were slim to none. The odds of her coming inside, even slimmer. Yet here they were, on a mission to find Rocky Road ice cream in Seth’s freezer. Thank goodness he had some.
Owen had brought over a pint one night, right after Seth’s surgery. Since Seth didn’t have the heart to tell him he hated the stuff, it had sat there, uneaten. Seth kept meaning to throw it out, but hadn’t gotten around to doing it, and now he was glad. From here on out, he’d keep his freezer stocked, just in case Grace happened by again. If Seth had beaten the odds once, who knew? Maybe it would happen again.
Seth strode to his freezer and pulled out the ice cream. He slid it across his granite countertop toward Grace and pulled out a spoon, holding it out to her. “It’s all yours.”
Grace eyed the spoon before meeting his gaze. “You don’t want any?”
“I’ll let you have the honors tonight.”
Grace accepted the spoon with a frown. “But I make it a point to never eat in front of anyone—especially not ice cream. That would be so . . . wrong.”
Seth leaned against the counter and folded his arms, still not quite sure how he’d managed to get Grace inside, sitting on one of his barstools. The way she now watched him expectantly made the whole scene feel surreal. “You’ll have to get over it, because I hate the stuff. It doesn’t even taste like normal chocolate, and then there’s the whole soggy nut thing.” He screwed up his face. “Not a fan.”
Eyebrow arched, Grace asked, “Why is it in your freezer then?”
“On the off chance you stopped by.” Seth gave her a lopsided smile. “I had a feeling it was one of your favorites and planned to use it to coerce you inside. It worked.”
Grace pried the lid of the ice cream open, only to frown. “How long has it been in your freezer, exactly?”
Seth leaned forward and peered inside. Shiny, chocolately goo covered in ice crystals stared back, looking nastier than normal. He wanted to simultaneously laugh and groan. “From the looks of it, a really long time,” he finally said. “You should’ve come sooner.”
Grace’s lips started to twitch. A quiet snort sounded, followed by a snicker, then full on laughter. Grace pushed the ice cream away and rested her head on the counter as she laughed and laughed. Seth recognized the sound. It was the kind of uncontrollable laugh that came after someone had officially lost it.
Calm, collected, impenetrable Grace had lost it. In Seth’s kitchen. The thought made him smile—as did the image of her with her face buried in her arms, shoulders shaking. Seth wanted to pry her off the counter and let his shoulder muffle her laughter, or better yet, his mouth. Instead, he walked around the island and pulled up a chair next to her. He rested his elbow on the counter and propped his head up with his hand as he watched her, amused.
When she finally raised her head, she had to wipe a few tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It really wasn’t that funny.”
“No kidding.”
Grace wiped at her eyes once again then looked around. “Let me guess, the ‘boxing’ you referred to involves those large blow-up gloves that don’t do any real damage.”
“Nope.” Seth grinned. “More like the computerized kind called Xbox Kinect. Feel free to punch me to your heart’s content.”
The giggles started all over again, and Grace reburied her head in her arms. Her soft brown hair fell to the side as her shoulders shook, and Seth couldn’t resist reaching out to touch it. As his fingers lightly combed through hair that was softer and smoother than it looked, Grace’s shoulders stopped shaking and her head raised slowly. A worried, almost anxious, expression appeared on her face as she returned his gaze.
Normally, Seth would shrug and say something light-hearted—something that would erase the nervous tension, like “Sorry, thought I saw some gray for a second.” But he didn’t feel like lightening the mood. He felt like closing the gap between them and seeing if her lips were as so
ft as her hair.
His hand cupped her chin, and his thumb lightly touched her lower lip. She sucked in breath but didn’t move. Ever so slowly, Seth’s fingers moved along her jaw, brushing away her hair before cupping the back of her neck. Then he leaned closer, watching her face, her eyes, trying to gauge what would happen if he really did try to kiss her. Would she let him? She wasn’t moving away, so he leaned even closer, until his mouth was a breath away from hers.
She drew in a shuddering breath, still not moving or saying anything. Seth took it as a positive sign and closed the gap, covering her lips with his. Just like he expected, they were warm and soft and moist and . . . moving against his—responding. Almost immediately, something ignited inside Seth, spreading through his body like an amazing adrenaline rush. Never before had a kiss felt this right, this powerful. Grace intoxicated him.
His fingers threaded through her hair, pulling her closer. When he felt the touch of her hand on his arm and her fingers curling around it, a thrill shot through Seth. As much as Grace tried to fight it or say she didn’t want it, she was enjoying this as much as he was. Encouraged, Seth leaned in closer, pressing her against the counter as his mouth moved over hers, searching, seeking, and finding.
A murmur escaped her lips, and Seth left his seat behind as his other arm found its way around her back. She fit against him perfectly, as if her body had been molded as the perfect counterpart to his. Nothing had ever felt so good or right.
The strains of U2’s “Pride” sounded, invading the moment like an annoying fly buzzing around. Seth ignored it, hoping Grace would too, but after a few seconds, her body started to stiffen, and her hands moved from his back to his chest, pushing him gently away. Seth wanted to curse and shove the phone down the garbage disposal. This wasn’t how he wanted the kiss to end, not with Grace pushing him away.
His mouth left hers, and he suddenly felt bereft. U2 finally went away, and Seth held Grace’s gaze, willing the fear and concern he saw in her eyes to dissipate. His hands moved gently up and down her arms as he searched for the right words to say, something that would replace the fear with happiness. Something that would bring back her smile and laughter.
Working It Out (A Romantic Comedy) Page 11
