Page 148 of Frozen Flames

That’s why I’m sitting here, on a scorching day in July, waiting for Gemma to show up. She texted me and asked me to meet with her one last time. So I agreed. Not to hurt Claire—not at all—but because I want to apologize for my part. Then I’m letting her go for good.

I don’t want to be tethered to my old life or for the accident to dominate my personality anymore.

Finding new ways to be grateful has made me much happier.

I’m anxious to get our meeting over with, then I intend to give myself a week or two more before I reach out to Claire.

Because today’s more than the day I’m closing my chapter with Gemma, it’s also the anniversary of our accident. And I honestly never thought I could be somewhat happy on this anniversary date, yet here I am.

“Hey, Harv,” Gemma says as she gets out of her car and approaches me.

I gesture to the front porch, where I’m waiting for her on the steps. “Come. Sit.”

I’ve been pushing myself with as many little moments as I can to be out of my chair. McKleen has been supportive of this since my accident. He’s always told me, “Harvey, it’s the little moments that add up to the big moments.” And I thought it was the stupidest thing to say to someone who had lost their ability to walk, but I get it now. Little moments where I get up amount to my being able to stand for longer periods of time with less fatigue. And so on.

It adds up.

It’s been nice ditching my wheelchair as much as possible during the summer to avoid drowning in my own sweat or burning my hands off on the hot wheels or handles.

Gemma sits on the steps, pushing her hair behind her ear.

I’m so happy when she doesn’t question or mention the fact that I’m sitting down on the front porch. I’m assuming that she probably thinks someone—Claire—helped me.

Weirdly, she’s wearing a sweatshirt on the hottest day of July, but I don’t comment on it. Maybe it’s her new style.

“So I heard that you went back to work at the tattoo shop?” she asks, making small talk. No doubt Henrik told her.

“Yeah, I did.” I tell her about my hours, and how I’m adding a few more every week. At least recently I have.

“That’s really good, Harvey. I’m glad you found a good place to go back to.”

I know what she means bygood. She means a workplace that won’t frustrate me more because of my disability nor discriminate against me because of it.

“Eddy and the crew are pretty cool. It’s like old times,” I say to her, even though we both know everything’s changed.

When she asks what else I’ve been up to, I tell her about my new cooking hobby and eating clean. Henrik’s been on board with this change too. It’s been a good way for me to get out of my chair and push myself privately.

She seems taken aback by that, and I don’t blame her—we often ate junk food together.

“What about you? Work is good?” I ask, knowing it’s a touchy subject between us. But really, when it comes down to it, I’m glad she found a job she loves.

She’s still beaming when she talks about work, and I have no idea if it’s because of him or the actual work itself.

“I’m pregnant,” she then blurts out randomly.

Damn.

I did not expect that.

I’m shocked, frankly, and a part of me wonders if she was pregnant during our breakup, though I doubt it, and besides, it wouldn’t matter.

Not when I’m picturing Claire as my future wife and envisioning nights when I put my babies in her.

“Congratulations…”

“Thank you,” she croaks, then looks away.

I decide to go all in and say what’s been on my mind and clear the air before our final goodbye. “I thought about you these past few months,” I murmur, shutting my eyes, replacing all the negative feelings that are ready to barge into the forefront of my mind with peace and acceptance instead. “At first I was so angry with you. It was easier to put the blame on you—I realized that in therapy. I was taking everything out on you. And I’m sorry for that, Gemma.”

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