Megs helped Sasha into her parka. “If you feel up to it, we can head to Knockers afterward and grab a bite with the gang.”
“I probably still have leftover chili.”
Mitch opened her front door. “It’ll keep until lunch tomorrow.”
Megs zipped her parka. “Everyone is asking about you. It will do you good to get out—and it will make people shut up.”
“What about Tommy?”
“I’ll talk to him. He can follow us if he wants.” Mitch went outside and walked over to the squad car parked at the curb.
Megs helped her into their vehicle, waited for Mitch, then drove the short distance to the climbing gym, a cold wind and heavy clouds to the west promising snow. She stopped in front of the gym’s door. “I’ll let you out here, and then I’ll go park.”
Sasha removed her seat belt. “I’m not used to needing this kind of help.”
“I know how you feel.” Mitch opened her door and took her hand, steadying her as she climbed out, a kind smile on his face.
Mitch reallydidknow. Almost exactly a year ago, he’d been struck on the helmet by a large piece of falling rock and had spent eight days in a coma. He’d had to re-learn how to talk, walk, and climb.
“Thanks.”
While Megs went to park, Mitch opened the door, and Sasha stepped inside.
It was the weekend, so the place was busy, all of the routes on the rock wall taken, the weight room and exercise area busy, too.
“Sasha!” Nicole saw her first. “You’re here!”
Heads turned, and a cheer went up.
“She’s back!”
“That’s Sasha Dillon. She was hurt in a bike accident.”
“Sasha’s here!”
“Oh, God, girl! Look at you! I didn’t think we’d see you for a month.” Bowen, one of the owners, hurried around the front counter to meet her. “Oh, sweetie, look at those bruises. Are you sure you should be up and about?”
“I’m not going to climb. I just wanted to get out of the house.”
“Of course, you did. You’re welcome here. Let’s get you a chair so you can watch people climb.”
By now, a small crowd had gathered around her.
“Give her space! Let my girl breathe!” Bowen pointed to the wall just to the right of the entrance. “We’ve got a get-well card for you here.”
“How sweet is that?” Sasha walked over to it—a large piece of newsprint covered with paper hearts, glitter, little stickers, and dozens upon dozens of cheering messages. She’d heard about it, of course, but seeing all of the kind words put a lump in her throat. She swallowed. “This is amazing.”
She’d begun to read through them, grateful for each one, when a familiar voice cut through the chatter around her.
“Are you sure you should be here?”
Sasha found Darius standing beside her. It was the first time she’d seen him wearing anything but a sports jacket, shirt, tie, and trousers, anddamn…
“I … um… Tommy’s outside.” How she got the words out, she couldn’t say, her mind all but blank, her gaze moving over him.
There were beads of sweat on his temples, his skin flushed. His gray T-shirt stretched over his pecs and left his biceps and corded forearms exposed. His climbing pants hung low on his hips, emphasizing his narrow waist.
“Who is this?” Bowen’s voice left no doubt that he, too, found Darius attractive.
