“London,” I supply.
He stares at me with his nostrils flared like he refuses to accept I’m not Lennon, as though he knows in his soul who I am. It’s safe to assume he believes me to be Lennon.
“All the evidence from the report says I’m London. I’m not sure you should get your hopes up, Dash. What if I’m not Lennon? Can you deal with that?” I ask.
He answers with another question instead of answering mine. And I must admit, it lands square in my chest.
“But what if you are?” he asks.
6
The physical therapist wanted me to stay in my wheelchair another week, but I refused. I insisted it was time to walk again. She reluctantly allowed me to sway her. She said the fire she saw in me to get better was encouraging. But she was firm about keeping the chair in case I tire out.
So, here I am using a cane of sorts as I can’t strain my left shoulder, so a walker or crutches were out of the question. Hendrix meets me and Dad out front.
“How did therapy go? Good it would seem.” He smiles at me kindly as he studies the cane in my right hand.
I glance at Dad who smirks a bit while loading my wheelchair. He was there for the entire appointment and knows I fought to leave on my own two feet. Literally.
“It was encouraging,” I say in response. I don’t dare say it wore me out because I don’t need them to hover.
“I’m glad, London. You’ve got this.”
Hendrix steps closer and gently glides his fingers down my cheek. “And if you need help, I’m right here beside you. Never forget it.”
He leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead.
“You ready, sweetheart?” Dad asks breaking the moment.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
“I’ll check in later,” Hendrix says before I drop into the passenger side of the car.
I know I’ll be with Dash later, but I keep it to myself and nod with a smile.
“Where are you taking me, Dash?”
He smiles when he sees me standing in the doorway of the apartment. He holds his hands out as his gaze follows the length of my body. He closes the distance between us and pulls me into his arms for a hug.
I stiffen at first but then my body relaxes into him as I close my eyes. It makes me dizzy. I must sway a little because he pulls back and stares at me with furrowed brows.
“Whoa, Valkyrie. You okay?” he asks as my knees buckle.
My vision fades and I feel like I’m going somewhere else, but I can’t see anything. Although I hear voices in my head.
“You’re quite the Valkyrie out there on the track.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Someone laughs.
“It means you’re fierce and courageous. You’ll do what it takes to win.”
“I thought Valkyries escorted slain warriors who are worthy to Valhalla.”
“I suppose both are true.”
“Lennon, where’d you go? You look like you remembered something.”
