Page 56 of Broken King

“Nope. Still nothing.”

I wouldn’t care if she had it all over her face. I’d still love just sitting here watching her enjoy it.

We don’t begin talking again, so as she finishes that first piece and I serve her a second, I try to remember a time recently that I felt like I do now. Happy. Content. I don’t have the love of life I used to have back yet, although that doctor claims it will return sometime, but I haven’t felt this good since the accident.

It’s not that I don’t want to feel good. Fuck, who wants to be miserable all the time? Anyone who thinks I like hating myself and my life is sadly mistaken. It’s not something I choose. It’s just what happens when I wake up in the morning and look down to see it’s not all simply a nightmare and my hand is still gone.

This morning I woke up feeling something different, though. Today, I saw my hand was missing when my eyes opened, but I didn’t immediately want to pull the covers over my head and hide away from the world. I was excited to see Kate and have lunch with her. I could barely contain my anticipation all day until she arrived.

I remember feeling this way when she and I were dating in high school. When she said yes to going out with me that first day I stopped at her locker and asked her out, I was so happy I couldn’t focus on anything but where we’d go that Friday. I don’t recall anything about the rest of that school day or the rest of the week, for that matter. All I could think about was my date with Kate.

My brothers took great pleasure making fun of me, but I didn’t care. Nothing ever mattered because she was mine.

And then I blew it, and here we are nearly five years later, and I’d give anything to have her feel for me what I feel for her. Things have changed, though. I’m no longer the high school athlete with all the confidence in the world. Now I’m this personwho spends all his time here at my brother’s because my family doesn’t trust me to be alone.

If they only knew how much having Kate around made me want to live like a normal person again.

“You’re quiet. I wish you had something you like for dessert.”

I smile and shake my head. I don’t need anything else right now. Just being here with her is enough to make my day.

But I can’t say that to her. I have no idea how she feels about me. She seems to have forgiven me for what I did, but that doesn’t necessarily translate into her wanting to be with me again. Even if I had two hands, I don’t know if that’s what she’d want.

“I’m good. I’m just glad you like the cake.”

When she finishes, she sets her fork down on the plate and sighs. “I know you liked that I never cared about calories, but two pieces of cake might mean I need to do an extra workout today.”

“Would you like to take a walk?”

She’s excited by that suggestion, but then says, “Do you mean at the park down along the river? It’s warm out today, but it would be nice to see it again. I haven’t been down there in ages.”

“No, I meant around here. It’s a big estate. We could go for a long walk, if you want.”

I hate disappointing her, but I can’t leave here. Not yet.

Still, she seems happy with my idea and nods before standing up. “Okay! I’ll have to go barefoot because there’s no way I can walk in those shoes. They couldn’t even get me down the road without failing me.”

As I stand to join her, I say, “Then we’ll keep to the grass. It’ll feel cool on your feet.”

We take everything from our lunch inside and leave it on the kitchen counter before walking across the road to start our walk. When Kate takes off her shoes, she loses at least three inches ofheight, and I remember how small she always seemed next to me.

“Why do you wear them if they’re so hard to walk in?” I ask as we head toward the back of the estate.

Kate swings the shoes in front of her and shrugs. “I hate that I’m not as tall as I want to be, so to fix that, I wear heels. In my defense, I had no idea you had such a wonderful lunch planned at the carriage house. I thought we’d just sit in the kitchen at the house.”

“Well, I wanted to do something special for our first time together.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize what I meant didn’t come out right. She notices it too, and I swear she blushes, just like on our first date when I slipped up and told her I’d been thinking about her for a while before I asked her out.

But before I can clarify I wasn’t talking about us running up to my bedroom and getting naked, I feel her hand touch my left hand. Looking down, I see her holding it as we walk.

Maybe she does care, after all.

“Tell me about this house in Rome,” she says, stepping over a tiny patch of clover. “Did you ever live there or just visit?”

I give her the best description of the place as far as I remember it, and she listens with rapt attention. Then she asks a question about its location, but it’s been so long since I’ve been there that I don’t know the exact address.

“That’s okay. I was wondering if maybe I had seen it when I was there.” Very quietly, she continues, “Maybe one day we can go there, and you can show me it in person.”

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