Page 66 of Downpour

“Ranch life never stops, Sunnyside.” I stroked her velvet cheek with my thumb. “But we better get inside before someone comes down here.”

The light in her eyes dimmed, but she nodded. “Yeah.” Brooke rolled off of me and sat up. Lines from sleeping on me streaked her arms and cheek. “I know you know how to get up by yourself, but do you want a hand?”

I fought back the urge to snap at her and tell her to get inside. It was an ingrained reflex from over a year of telling my family to leave me alone so I could figure things out for myself.

I appreciated that Brooke offered help, but also acknowledged that it was just that—an offer. She knew I could do it on my own.

I pointed at my chair. “Bring it over.”

While Brooke scrambled to push it over, I pressed my palms to the ground and pushed up to sit against the tree trunk.

“Do you want it beside you or in front of you?”

“Beside me. Make sure it’s locked,” I said as I laced my hands behind my thighs and pulled them up so my feet were flat on the ground.

Brooke’s eyes locked on mine and, in them, I saw kindness. Not pity. “Do you want me to go inside?”

“No. Give me a hand, will you?” I asked as I braced one hand on my chair and reached out to her with the other.

Brooke’s palm was soft as she slid it into mine. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

Using my legs first thing in the morning was usually out of the question, but I needed to get inside. I counted down and pushed up against my wheelchair as she helped pull me up.

My knees buckled long enough for me to drop down less than gracefully into my chair, but almost immediately gave out. “Thanks.”

Brooke squeezed my hand, then hurried to gather the blanket and picnic basket while I made my way up the ramp.

“Breakfast?” she asked when we convened in the kitchen. “What sounds good?”

Cereal sounded good. But after sleeping on the ground, my body was fucked up, and I didn’t know how well I’d be able to use a spoon.

“I’m just gonna eat a granola bar.”

There was a hint of doubt in Brooke’s face, but she didn’t question it. While she made herself some toast, I grabbed the power bar box from the lower cabinets. I blew my hair out of my face so I could see between the flavors, but it just kept flopping in my eyes.

“When was the last time you had a haircut?” Brooke asked as she spread butter over her toast.

I found a chocolate chip bar and shut the cabinet. “Been a while. I don’t feel like going to a barber. I’m probably gonna just buzz it.”

“Can I cut it?”

I almost laughed, but I held it in.

I liked Brooke and, with the exception of driving and cooking, I trusted her.

I did not trust her with scissors near my head.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’ll just buzz it.”

“Please,” she begged, clasping her hands together. “I love cutting hair.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve cut hair before?”

“Yeah! I did three semesters in beauty school before I switched to early childhood development, but the classes were so boring that I dropped out after a few weeks. I love kids, butI hated school. I even tried massage therapy since it was hands-on. I really loved that, but everyone said I talked too much and they couldn’t relax.”

And yet all I could think about was her hands on me.

I cleared my throat and turned away so she wouldn’t see my shorts starting to tent. “So that’s why you’re waiting to go back to school? Until you know what you want to do?”

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