My heart aches when I think of Paige pregnant and alone, and knowing I did that to her makes me want to curl up into a ball. But I’ve done enough hiding. If I’ve got any chance of being the man she needs, there’s no room for self-pity. I can’t change the way things unfolded, but I can change the way I show up for her now.
Eventually, I find the treatment rooms in the main building, and my wheels squeak on the shiny new floors. Joel comes out to greet me, and if he’s surprised to see me out of my room, he doesn’t show it.
I follow him down a corridor, and he stops in front of a room and knocks.
A woman answers, all eagerness and youth. She’s in her mid-twenties, and she can’t hide her surprise.
“Mr. Burke. I’m glad you found us.” Her smile is warm and genuine. “I’m Savanna. And you’re my very first patient.” Her cheeks heat, and she glances quickly at Joel. “At the center, I mean.”
Joel grins. “We’re borrowing Savanna in the mornings until we open full time.”
As I wheel into the room, Joel leaves us to it.
Savanna pulls her chair to face me, and her expression turns all business. “It can be hard to make that first step. But if we put in the work, there’s no reason why we can’t get you into a prosthetic and walking again.”
I run a hand through my beard. Yesterday, I would’ve been happy to lie prostrate till the end of my days. But now I have tworeasons to want to walk again. “Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.”
She smiles. “Great attitude. First, let’s take a look at your current mobility and any pain points.”
An hour later, I’m sweating from the exercises, and my stump throbs with pain. Savanna suspects there’s an infection, and Joel arranged for the doctor to come out to see me.
In the meantime, I wheel myself to the edge of the center, where the maintenance sheds are.
The maintenance sheds are a line of converted stables with wooden sliding doors that are currently open to let in the crisp fall air.
Paige’s main work area is the nearest shed, which has tables for plants and gardening tools stacked against the wall. But today, she’s in the second shed, bent over a work-bench. My heart gives a kick when I see her.
My gaze travels up from her scuffed work boots to the baggy overalls that hug her rump as she bends over the work-bench. My mouth waters, remembering how good it felt to nestle her against my body. Strands of blonde hair have escaped her ponytail and tickle the back of her neck. She’s wearing safety goggles, and her gaze is focused on the angle grinder on the bench. She hasn’t noticed me, and I watch her for a moment, captivated by her focus, her soft curves, and the determined set of her mouth.
A few minutes pass before she turns around, and her hand flies to her chest. “You startled me.” Her cheeks turn a gorgeous pink, and a smile tugs at her lips.
“Sorry.” I’m not sorry at all. She looks good with her cheeks flushed, and it’s good to see her smile. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”
I haven’t seen Paige since she dropped the bomb about Noah being my son. I have so many questions that I need answered. I don’t know if she’s mad at me or disappointed, but now that she’s here, I don’t know where to begin.
She pushes the goggles onto her head, causing her hair to stick up. “I’m sharpening my lawnmower blades.”
She holds up a blade in her hand. It’s coated in grass, and there are nicks on the surface. I wheel forward, glad to have something to focus on.
“Have you used an angle grinder before?”
She puts one hand on her hips. “I know how to use tools, Ryan. I’m not helpless.”
Helpless is the last word I’d use to describe Paige. But she didn’t answer my question. “Have you?”
She presses her lips together before answering. “No. But I watched a video, and I can figure it out.”
My lips quirk up in a smile. Is this how Paige figured out motherhood and pregnancy? On her own, looking online for advice. Sadness begins to well up in me, but I hold it back. I wasn’t there for her, but I can be here now.
“I’m sure you can.”
She stares at me for a long moment, and I wonder what she’s thinking. Whether she remembers our nights together or if shejust sees a broken man. I desperately want her to see me as more than a broken man in a chair.
“Or I can do it for you.”
I hold out my hand, and reluctantly, she hands the blade over. I put it on my lap as I wheel farther into the shed.
In the SEAL Teams, we all had specialist skills, and mine was metalwork. I’d be the one carrying the breaching equipment when the mission required it. A portable angle grinder, bolt cutters, or a hacksaw, depending on the mission.
