“I was trying to tell you I admire your attitude. That you always look at your blessings instead of what you had to give up. Is that so bad?”
“Exactly. You’re saying you feel sorry for me because I couldn’t be a normal guy.” His hands curled into tight fists, as he battled to tamp down his emotions.
I’m such a fool!
“You’re putting words in my mouth.” Her finger poked into his back, punctuating each syllable.
“It’s okay, Carly.” He spoke between tightly clenched teeth. “I know you’re trying to let me down easy. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“Hmph!” She grunted, raising her voice. “Then I guess some bronco bucked you off onto your head, because you’re acting like an idiot! I wasn’t trying to let you down, and I don’t feel sorry for you!”
His fury wavered. Was it possible he’d jumped to conclusions?
“If you don’t feel sorry for me, what do you feel?”
He skirted around the question he really wanted to ask. Could you ever see me as more than a friend?
“I admire your positive attitude,” she said. “Is that objectionable?”
He ventured a glance over his shoulder. Her fervent expression tugged at him, and his biting anger subsided, a familiar dull emptiness in its place. It wasn’t her fault she couldn’t give him what he needed.
“I guess that’s okay.” His words echoed in the familiar emptiness of his chest. “Except you’re still holding me to a different standard. I’m not any more positive than anyone else is.”
“Yes, you are. You push through your setbacks.” She chewed on her lower lip, her wide eyes blinking up at him.
Could it be that he’d misinterpreted her words? Was it possible all hope was not lost? He wanted to believe her. More than anything, he wished she might care for him as if he had no disability.
Then she added, “You’re not even bitter about giving up football.”
He jerked like he’d touched a live wire.
He had never mentioned that everyone had expected him to become a pro football player when he was growing up. Or that his father had withdrawn any semblance of love and support after his paralysis made that dream impossible. It was a subject he did his best to avoid.
He twisted, his eyes boring into hers. “How do you know I played football before I got injured?”
“Uhm…” Her gaze darted from side to side. “I don’t know. I think you mentioned it before.”
“I didn’t.”
Silence hung in the cold air between them. Somehow, she knew about his past. That he’d played football. What else did she know?
“Lots of guys play football in high school,” she mumbled, fidgeting with her helmet. “I guess I forgot what you said.”
She was lying. He felt it in his bones. Somehow, this woman he’d just met knew something deeply personal about him. Something he made certain he kept buried.
He gazed ahead, his mind racing as the wind rustled the needles in the pine trees, powdery snow rising into the air. How could she have known?
The answer came to him, zipping prickles up the back of his neck.
“How old are you, Carly?”
“I’m... uh... th-thirty,” she stuttered. “Why?”
Thirty. Two years younger than him. Two years younger than Ben would have been if he were still alive.
Ben’s sister!
“Back when we were on the plane, you asked me if I’d forgiven everyone who’d hurt me, and I gave you an honest answer.” His blood boiling, he traced his fingers along the edge of his visor, as if he weren’t tempted to slam it into the ground in a fit of rage. “I’d like you to answer that question for me. And for once, I want you to tell me the truth.”
Was she even capable?
“I can honestly say I’ve forgiven everyone except myself.” Her voice seemed to be choked with emotion. But she was such a consummate actress. Who knew what she was really thinking?
“It’s time to go back.” He smashed his helmet on and snapped the strap under his chin. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. “Tell me when you’re ready.”
“Liam, I...” Her voice died off. “There are things you don’t know. There’s more at play here than what you think.”
“Are you ready?” His words came out like two granite slabs grinding against each other.
“Maybe we should clear the air first.”
“Carly, or should I say Lottie?” He dripped acid from his words as he turned to glare at her. “Right now, the air is about as clear as it’s been since we met. Let me rephrase that... since we were reunited on the plane. I don’t know what kind of game you’ve been playing, but I’m done.”
“It wasn’t a game.” She sounded shaken, as she should have, knowing her cover was blown.
“For me, it wasn’t a game.” He turned the key and gunned the throttle twice. “You need to hold on to something. There are two grips on the back of the seat behind you if touching me is too disgusting for you.”
“Why would you say that? Have I ever acted disgusted? Didn’t I kiss you?”
