His expression changed again, no doubt because that, in clinical terms, meant she would never walk again. She saw the sympathy in his eyes. Normally hated it, but not with him.
“That had to have been really hard for, what?” He winced. “A ten-year-old girl?”
“Yeah.” This single syllable could never convey how hard it had been. Fifteen years ago, she’d dealt with the agony of realizing she’d run, skied, danced, and stood in the shower for the last time. She’d been a child. A terrified, heartbroken, paralyzed kid around the same age as Benny and Olivia.
They’d been the darkest days of her life.
“Honestly,” she said quietly, “the emotional pain was way more traumatic than the physical pain.”
“How did you cope?” he asked.
“Therapy—physical, emotional, mental. My parents were amazing. My brother was an absolute angel. And I guess I was blessed with a decent attitude in life.”
“Not a victim,” he said. “I love that about you.”
She managed not to react, taking an unsteady breath instead. “By the time I was a teenager, I’d figured out how to do life with a lightweight chair and strong upper-body muscles. I do everything from here up.” She tapped the top of her thighs lightly. “And a whole lot from here.” She touched her forehead.
He listened like it was the most important case summary he’d ever heard. “I’m…blown away.”
“By the injury?” she asked.
“By you. By your determination and spunk and refusal to let a tragedy ruin your life.”
She felt some tears sting. No compliment could mean more—he got her. He understood what she’d fought for and felt, right now, at least, like she’d won.
“I just want to live an ordinary life and be a working vet,” she said softly. “That was always the dream.”
“You are, although nothing about you is ordinary,” he said. “Honestly? I forgot you were in a wheelchair in that OR. All you were was closer to the surgical site and incredibly competent.”
“Thank you,” she said. “It was fun to watch you work.”
He searched her face, thinking. “Have you ever considered…not being in the chair?”
“When I’m in bed,” she cracked, “and don’t want to get up.”
“Seriously, Elise. I’m sure you know there are incredible things happening right now in mobility science. In neurostimulation, AI-assisted exosuits, spinal cord interface breakthroughs. Not guarantees. Just… possibilities.”
Her heart squeezed at the gentle hope in his voice, and that familiar, fleeting worry slipped in again—the fixer of lost causes.
“For now, I’m happy in school, just being Hale on Wheels, as they call me.”
He chuckled. “Cute.”
“Cute but…I don’t want wheels to be the first thing people see about me. That’s why…”
“Why what?” he pressed when she stopped, realizing she’d gone too far. “Elise?”
“Why I was so confident when I met you,” she confessed on a whisper. “There was no chair. Just Copper and me, high and mighty in a saddle like a…”
“Like a spirited, stunning, sassy cowgirl,” he finished for her.
“Not what I was going to say.”
“But it’s what I saw.”
“Until you saw…” She bit her lip. “The harness.”
He shrugged. “Didn’t stop me, Elise. I’m a doctor. I see past injuries or medical conditions to the person under it all. And this person?” He reached across the table, taking her hand and stealing her breath. “Is really attractive to me.”
