“What?”
“Chris…you know you don’t have to make yourself suffer as much as you do. People make mistakes. It doesn’t mean they need to punish themselves for them forever.”
His words reach into my chest and squeeze something, twisting it in a painful grip. Only Remy could call stubbornness self-martyrdom. I’m not afraid of the pills. I’m afraid of still being nothing with them. The pain—at least I earned that.
“That’s not why.” I shake my head again. Leaning to the side, I roll onto my hands and knees to push myself up. “Besides,” I clear my throat, dusting some grass off my shirt, “that’s what I’ve got you for, right?”
He gets to his feet with a wry smile. Good. Maybe I’ve shifted the conversation.
“Yeah. I’ll have you dragging tractor tires down the street in no time.”
I’m sure he meant that as a joke or said it to lighten the mood, but visions of me staggering down the road, covered in sweat, gripping my side, and cringing in pain as he runs along behind me, shouting for me not to give up, assault me. He saidwe weren’t going to fix me, but my own father should know good and well that he can’t fix me. Yet, he still has ambitions I can’t achieve. What exactly is Remy hoping for? Are his hopes higher than he’s let on?
“I highly doubt that.”
“Hey, you never know.” He grins, gesturing to his deck railing. “You can do more push-ups than I can. You might be trainingmeto haul tires.”
I showed up here the other day, floating precariously on the idea that he wanted to get to know me, really know me, for the first time in our lives. I get the not crawling in through windows thing and the no sex thing. I honestly respect the hell out of him for that. It makes him a thousand percent more attractive than he already was. Right now, though, his playful forecast injects a shot of fear into my veins. The fall from having him in my orbit for however long is going to hurt more than any broken back once he discovers just how used up I am, and the light in his eyes dims.
Nodding like I concur with his aspirations, I head for the side of his house to make my exit. “Thanks for today.”
“Chris?”
“Yeah?” I slow my steps, but don’t look back, too afraid he’ll see how disgruntled I feel.
“Is everything okay? Did I…say something?”
Fuck. I stop, sucking in a breath to try to calm my nerves. Except it doesn’t work. All I can hear are my father’s words,You just need more confidence. Confidence can’t hide the truth. It’s just smoke and mirrors.
Angling my head, I call over my shoulder. The least I can do is give him a warning. Let him know his protégé isn’t going to go very far. Rip the bandage off, so I can swallow his disappointment now rather than later.
“That guy…the one you used to know—he isn’t here. I’m not him anymore, and I’m never going to be. So if that’s who you were hoping to get to know, I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
The self-pitying sound of the words burns my skin. There’s no way to polish them not to reek of victim mentality, even though they’re the truth.
“I don’t want that guy.”
Well, that was quick. Spinning around, I wobble, acutely aware of how my spine makes me lean to the right.
“Then what the fuckdoyou want from me? Because in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have much left to give.”
He surprises me, answering as heatedly as I delivered, not missing a beat. “I want you to realize that you do.”
I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about, but I’m too distracted by the instant regret on his face for raising his voice. I’ve never seen him look so adamant about something.
Grimacing, he smooths his hands over his T-shirt and clears his throat. “You’re more than your physical abilities and appearance, Chris. It might not seem that way when you live in pain all day and were used to…feeling different, but I hope you know that.”
That sounds a lot like the part in teen heartthrob movies where the preppy guy has to be told point-blank that he’s shallow before he sees what everyone else does. I’m kind of getting tired of this mirror he keeps holding up in front of me. It looks worse than the one I have at home.
“And…I enjoy spending time with you.”
“What? With a grumpy asshole?”
His mouth ticks up at the corner, and he shrugs. “How about a funny, intelligent man with big feelings?”
I snort, and his hesitant smirk turns into a smile of relief. That smile feels like I just defused a bomb created by my own hands, making me shake my head.
“You don’t make any sense, Tanner.”
