Page 3 of Frozen Flames

If I had a pocket of wishes, though, I’d give her most of them. She deserves it—her only mishap in life was falling for me.

I always wondered when she worked on campus if she envied other couples, or her twin sister, Gia, and her brother-in-law, James, both nondisabled people who would never deal with the bullshit we have to.

Physical therapy. Nurses. Popping pills like clockwork. Making sure I don’t wet myself. Getting sick easily. Infections. Medical bills. Paperwork.

She pushes her hair behind her ear, a telltale sign that she’s anxious. And I wonder why. I wish I could ask her, but I can’t. We haven’t had that close a relationship in a long while, and it doesn’t feel right anymore to quiz her about anything.

Especially since I hate when she questions me.

If I took my meds.

How my day went.

If I got some fresh air.

If I ate.

How PT was.

The questions are endless and never-ending.

I would do a fuck of a lot for them to end.

Might even pass on a wish from my pocket of wishes for her to stop questioning me like I’m a goddamn child who can’t fend for himself.

“I have an interview tomorrow,” Gemma randomly blurts out mid-dinner.

My eyes dart to the backyard. “Where?” I ask, sipping on water.

“Downtown. At a consulting firm—environmental.” There’ll be quite a bit of traffic from our hometown of Clarendon Hills to downtown Chicago.

I stare at her then, trying with all my might to show nothing but support, despite the fears brewing inside my head.

“Good luck. It’s in your field, so that’s good, right?” I say with a conviction I don’t feel.

“Yeah. It’s an assistant position, but it’s a start. You know I’ll still be here if you need me…” She lowers her gaze, shifting in her chair.

I palm her hand, hoping to lessen her guilt.

“Don’t worry about me. Besides, I have Claire,” I reassure her, letting go of her hand to finish my meal.

Once we’re done eating and Gemma cleans the kitchen, we make our way to the couch, though I stay in my wheelchair tonight rather than transferring to the couch.

“I’ll be back. You pick.” Gemma throws me the remote.

My thoughts sprint to her new job and how it will affect things, as she won’t be working remotely the way she sometimes did with her campus job.

My mind is still racing by the time she comes back into the living room and dims the lights, wearing nothing but a black bra and matching thong.

I can see her pierced nipple through the sheer black bra cup, which brings me back to the first college party we attended the day we met.

I don’t know what to do with my arms, so I settle them on the armrest, my heart beating out of my chest because I know how the night will end.

She walks toward me slowly, and when she reaches me, she kneels in front of me, reaching for my hands.

“Harvey…”

I shake my head and look away.

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