Page 52 of Fortune's Control
“My accident took place over a year ago. Definitely not high school.”
“You don’t need to explain that part if you don’t want to. Trusting me with all of this, it’s... thank you.”
It was important to get the rest out. “I didn’t plan for it to be a secret, or at least never intended it to be. We didn’t speak for days afterwards, and our first few conversations were accidents. It never came up.” Lilah gave me a doubtful stare. “It’s true. I haven’t discussed it with anyone more than necessary since the beginning, and it’s uncomfortable to do so now. It’s not how I want people to see me.”
Lilah sat at the edge of the window seat, so her eyes were level with my thighs. She inspected the prosthetic, noting the material and different parts, until finally she leaned back to look up at me. “All I see is you, Shane. That’s still all I see. You can see the garage apartment in here. I watched your bedroom light come on and imagined you in here, getting ready for bed. I wondered if you did the same.”
I sat down beside her, and we both looked at my prosthesis. “Yes, I did the same with you.”
“What is it made of?” Lilah touched the edge where it met my skin.
“Carbon fiber, computer chips, and silicone. Do you want to know what happened?”
“I want you to share what you’re comfortable sharing.” I didn’t miss her subtle rebuke. She continued in a firmer tone this time. “I’d also like to understand our date. You left me hanging, and then avoided me for three days after. I’ll admit to doing the same to you, but under the circumstances, I want to blame you. That’s unfair of me. I realize that, and I’m sorry for my poor reaction. My hurt spoke before my ears were ready to listen. After all you’ve done, you deserved a chance to explain rather than my assuming the worst. I should have asked outright, or at least ignored that get out comment.”
My lips curled into a half-smile at her statement. “I regret how our date ended. That is the truth.”
“Then why do it?”
“Explaining means answering both questions.” She kept silent, showing her acquiescence. “I enlisted several months after high school, and then a month before I was due to leave, my parents died in a car accident. After that, I would occasionally come home to take care of family business and check on my sister. I decided not to reenlist after ten years, and my injury occurred two months before my discharge. I suppose that makes it an accident of timing, considering how little remained in my enlistment.” I tapped my knee. “An ordinance training accident. It wasn’t my fault, not that it matters. Its awful appearance told me I wouldn’t walk on it for a long time, if ever, but it didn’t hurt. A paper cut hurt more.”
“It hurt later,” she guessed.
“The pain started after the amputation.That’s when I learned what true pain felt like. It kept me awake. It woke me up.” The cruel throbbing and the lightning running down a leg that didn’t exist. My throat tightened. “It’s better now.”
Lilah heard something in my voice and took my hand.
“I made the correct decision, despite the pain. My medical team presented options, telling me it could be saved. With surgeries, some mobility would return.”
She gasped at my statement and the implication. “Shane?”
“Yes, it was my choice, if that’s what you’re asking. I won’t lie and say it was easy. I had some dark moments and times when rage filled me. I was angry at the idiot whose mistake caused it to happen. The physical therapists wanted me to slow down, so I yelled at them. I cursed up a storm every time I fell. They suggested swimming, so I picked up running. I lay in bed and tried to picture my future, but I never could. I saw a therapist for a while, which helped, and took antidepressants at his urging. That helped, too.”
“Are you still in pain?”
“You can touch. Here.” I placed her hand on top of my knee. “In the evenings, yes. I replaced medication with therapy and training. The more I do on my own, the better I feel. Jack once said I should enter a thick-thigh contest. You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you all this.”
“I’m focused on listening more than solving clues.” Lilah’s hand drifted up, and she squeezed my thigh. “You’d win the contest. That’s muscle.”
My heart quickened at her statement. I stroked her lower lip with my thumb and fought back the urge to kiss her again. “My point is, despite all of it, I never regretted that decision. You can call it gut instinct or intuition if you want, but when I make those kinds of decisions, that’s it. I don’t regret them. Ever.”
Lilah’s neck twisted, so she looked away from me, givingherself a chance to process what I said. “I think I know why you’re telling me this, especially that last part, but I’m not sure I’m ready to believe it.”
I wanted to tilt her chin and force eye contact, but let her be. Looking away was a form of self-imposed invisibility, a way to hide one’s insecurities. I recognized the behavior because it’s not that different from how I spent the last year.
“You spent time with my sister, correct? I’ll bet she shared a ton of opinions about me.”
“She did.”
“Good. Remember them for this next part. Since then, I’ve relearned how to climb stairs, stand up, maintain balance, drive a car, get dressed, and perform countless other tasks. I also struggled in other ways. For the first time, I had no purpose. No jobs and no plans. My friends noticed it, which is one reason you saw me at the Gator Tale that night.”
Lilah craned her neck to stare up at me. Her bold, unblinking eyes met mine. “Your friends love you, Shane. This whole town does. Their affection for you rubbed off on me.”
“No, that’s all you. Don’t put yourself down, Lilah. Not in front of me, and not ever. I won’t let you.” Her lips parted in surprise and discomfort.
I took her hand and intertwined it with my own, and let myself enjoy the act’s simple pleasure. She didn’t argue, so I continued, “I was unsure of myself for the first time with you. My friends dragged me out to eat or go fishing, and Jack invented jobs that required my help. I’m not a social butterfly, if you haven’t noticed.”
Her beautiful laugh calmed me. My amputation and everything that resulted from it were not my favorite subjects. It wasn’t shame; more that I didn’t want to invite others into that part of myself. Withdrawing was easier, especially for me.
