Page 84 of Frozen Flames

“Hen, what do you know about love? Seriously?” That shuts him up so fast I almost regret the words after they’re spoken.

He doesn’t get it though. I’m doing thisbecauseI love her.

“Try and explain it to me, then,” he mutters.

I swallow, looking away. The sun is blazing hot today, and touching the armrests of my wheelchair feels like reaching another level of hell.

“She doesn’t know what she’ll be sacrificing.” I exhale, my chest constricting with every word, wishing I could just scream.

“How do you know?” he throws my way. “Maybe she does. Maybe she did her research. Besides, don’t you think that’s her choice?”

I nibble on my lip, trying to create another painful diversion rather than the pain I feel deep within.

“I can’t let her do this…”

“Harvey.” Henrik takes a seat on one of the porch chairs. “Anything can be figured out in time, literally anything. You just… Change is new and scary, but once you get into a routinetogether, you might think otherwise.”

God, I hope so.

I don’t want to lose her. I love her.

“She’s not gonna let you do this. She won’t let you go.”

“Yeah, well, maybe she should.”

Who would even want someone like me?

Harvey

I haven’t slept since Monday.

On Wednesday, Claire arrives in black scrubs, and I push myself during training today despite my lack of sleep.

“You haven’t read to me in a while,” I tell her once I’m freshly showered and we’re both sitting on the couch.

“I know,” she murmurs in a voice that makes me think she might’ve missed it too. “I think we know it’s best to keep our distance, that’s all.” She clears her throat.

“It’s just reading, Claire. I don’t think that was part of the problem.”

I miss listening to her voice. I miss catching glimpses of her face as she reads, committing every feature to memory to draw later on.

“Well, alright.” She fetches the book from her bag and settles on the couch again with her knees bent.

I shut my eyes, exhausted, yet eager to get my fill of Claire’s voice—the perfect melody to lull me to sleep. When we reach Beth’s death in the story, and Claire’s tone slowly turns melancholic, my eyes fly open right away, noticing the tears leaking down her face.

“Come here,” I whisper, unable to stop myself.

“Harvey, we can’t.”

“Please, Claire.” I swallow, knowing she’s right, knowing I’m being an idiot again, but also knowing I can’t stop myself.

When she finally comes and sits on the couch next to me, she flips open the book again to keep reading as I wipe away one of her tears with my forefinger.

“Harvey,” she croaks. “What are you doing to me? You don’t play fair…”

I chuckle. “I know, and for that I’m terribly sorry. Don’t be sad, Claire.”

“I’m fine.” She looks up as she dries her face with her hands. “I just can’t ever imagine losing Audrey like that.”

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