“Remember when I was a kid and upset about my leg. What was it you used to tell me?”
“Your abilities are stronger than your disability.”
I smile, even though she can’t see me. “Yeah. Guess I’m having trouble remembering that today.”
“That wouldn’t be because of the speech you have to give, would it?”
“You mean the one you emotionally blackmailed me into giving?” I reply wryly. “No. Well, maybe a little.”
“Honey, I know it was a lot to ask you to step in last minute and give the keynote at the National ABS Conference. That organization has done a lot to support our family over the years, and they were desperate. I’ve always respected your choice to keep your limb difference and everything you’ve done for the community a secret. But don’t you think it’s time to step into the light? To stop hiding your accomplishments?”
I’m silent for a moment, maybe longer. Thinking of Charlie and Isla. Of my parents, of my own childhood. Growing up feeling so alone. Like no one understood what I was going through.
“I’ve never wanted to be treated differently just because I’m missing my leg.”
“I think,” Mom starts slowly, “that it’s understandable to be worried about people’s perceptions. And I think it’s something everyone struggles with for different reasons. That doesn’t make your reasons any more or less valid, but it does, hopefully, make you feel less alone in this struggle.” She pauses. “Talking at the conference might be the soft launch you need, a safe space to share your story, so that maybe you feel more confident being open about it in general. Or with a special someone when the time comes.”
The probing in that statement is anything but subtle. I’m certainly not going to tell her everything. Not yet. But…I can tell her this.
“One of my employees has a preteen son who has a missing arm. A birth defect like my leg.” I smile. “He’s a cool kid. And seems determined not to let his disability slow him down.”
“Reminds me of someone else at that age.”
I huff out a laugh. “Yeah. Guess so. Except he doesn’t even bother trying to hide his limb. I was thinking of telling him and his mom. It seems wrong to hide it from them.”
Mom makes a sound that could be agreement or could be probing me to tell her more. Either way, it works.
“I’m worried they’ll be hurt I didn’t tell them right away.”
“It sounds like how they react to the news is important to you. Maybetheyare important to you. Will she be at the conference?”
Fuck, she’s way too perceptive. And there’s that hopeful tone again. Then her question registers.
Shit, will Isla be at the conference? Is that how I want her to find out about my leg?
“I don’t know,” I answer as my mind whirls. The conference is in two days. And I’m heading to Vancouver tomorrow to meet with the owner of the Vancouver Tridents. There’s no time to come clean with Isla before my speech. It’s not exactly something I want to share over text.
Fuck.
Mom is oblivious to my turmoil, and I try to give her my attention once more.
“I’ll just say one more thing, even though I’ve said it before. It bears repeating and maybe this time you’ll listen,” she teases. “Now, I know I’m your mother, and therefore biased. But you are an extraordinary man, and there’s not a single thing about you that I would change. My only hope for you is that someday you can open your heart to the possibility that someone else might believe that, too.”
Her words so closely echo Coral’s from our last brunch, they blend together. If the two women who know me better than anyone else think I deserve love, then why the hell don’t I?
17
ISLA
I was a single teen mom.I raised a kid while finishing high school, going to university and earning my degree, and starting my career.
Being tired is a permanent state of being for me.
But this type of exhaustion, this mental and emotional drain that I’m currently experiencing, is an all-new low. And the cause of it? A six-foot-tall man who’s at least ten years my senior, my boss, and the star of far too many of my recent fantasies.
If I thought it was hard to ignore my attraction to him when I first started working for the Thunder, it’s nothing compared to how difficult it is now. Cracking open the door between us, only to slam it shut when we both realized just how bad of an idea it would be to explore things right now, absolutely sucks. Being around him, knowing how his lips feel on mine, how his hands hold my body, and then having to deny myself that pleasure day after day is pure torture.
Thank God the annual conference for parents andcaregivers of individuals with amniotic band syndrome is in Vancouver this year, making it easy for me to attend. In the past, the conference, which is hosted by a national charity to support people like Charlie and their families, has been out of town, so I’ve never attended in person. But this year, Mom pushed me to go. And now, the idea of having a few days away from the office, away from the temptation that is Luca Calloway in a suit, has me breathing a sigh of relief.
