Rebounding (10 page)

I nod, taking it from him. Then he helps Piper out of her wheelchair, and he gives her the second, shorter leash. Her legs tremble unsteadily. Just standing up straight is a challenge. Despite her difficulty, sheer joy radiates from her face. She slowly lifts her hand to stroke Batman’s neck. He kisses her on the nose and mouth, and she giggles again.

“All right, Pipes. Try and take a few steps.” Max kneels down, keeping his body angled toward her in case she falls.

The first step is laborious. So is the second. She keeps her eyes on her feet, and I can tell it’s taking every bit of her focus and energy to do this. Batman stays right beside her, only taking a step when she does.

We make it several feet across the room before Piper falls short of breath. When this happens, she sits and her face falls. “I can’t go…any farther.”

Max immediately puts her at ease. “You did great, Pipes! Did you know you took five steps more than you did last time?”

She glances up at him, eyes wide. “I did?”

“Yep. And next time you’ll take five more. Before you know it, you’ll be running alongside Batman.”

His words seem to help. Batman lies down beside Piper, and she continues to pet him. He’s so calm and patient with her, so far removed from the energetic dog I saw before. I never thought I could be this in awe of an animal, but here I am, at a loss for words. He’s incredible.

Max is pretty incredible too. I can tell by the way he works with Piper that he’s passionate about helping her. Never in a million years would I have imagined he had this side to him.

It also kind of makes me hate myself. I’ve been so caught up in my own self-pity, I’d forgotten there’s a whole world going on outside of me, filled with people who have much bigger problems than I do. Piper probably just wants to be like every other kid her age. Here she is, learning to walk for crying out loud, every step a minisuccess. She’s not giving up either. Instinctively, I know she’ll keep trying until she
is
running alongside Batman.

I tell Max I need to go to the bathroom, but really it’s just an excuse. Stupid emotions got to me, and I need a moment to collect myself.

Inside the bathroom, I wipe my eyes with a tissue, taking a few deep breaths. Before going out there again, I look at myself in the mirror, still finding it hard to recognize my own reflection.

Never again.

There are so many meanings behind that thought, I’m not sure I could pinpoint which one I meant when I thought it. All of them, I guess.

I never want to feel sorry for myself again. I never want love to destroy me like it did again. I never want to feel so insecure again. But most of all, I don’t ever want to look in the mirror to see this broken person again.

FOURTEEN

Max

“What the hell, man!” Charlotte screams out the window of my truck. A car cut us off on the freeway to get into the exit lane. Batman barks as if he’s in agreement with her.

“You okay?”

I glance down, noticing how I stretched my arm out in front of both of them. Shaking my head at myself, I place my hand back on the steering wheel. Yeah, like that would’ve saved them.

“That didn’t
piss you off?” Charlotte asks, her voice still wild. “We almost died!”

“Don’t worry, kid. I had things under control.”

“You could’ve at least blown your horn or flicked him off or
something
,” she grumbles, settling back into her seat.

“You got some serious road rage, huh? I’d hate to see what it’s like with you behind the wheel.”

“Very funny. I don’t have road rage. I’m just…passionate about the opportunity to live another day.”

“If you say so.”

She turns her head sideways to look at me. “Don’t you ever get mad? Do you have
any
emotions beneath that hard exterior of yours, Maximus Archer? Or are you just really good at hiding them?”

I switch the blinker on, veering off at the next exit. “What’s with the psych eval?”

“I’m not criticizing you,” she assures me. “As a matter of fact, I wish I was more like that. Empty of all emotions. God knows I could sure use a break from mine.”

A building in the shape of a giant ice cream cone looms up ahead. I turn into the parking lot. “You don’t want to be like me,” I say, amused. “Emotions remind us that we’re living. That we’re human.”

“In that case, I must be the most alive person you know.”

That makes me laugh. I love her self-deprecating sense of humor. Most people’s flaws are like little wounds. The more you pick at them, the more they hurt. But Charlotte is open and honest about everything. Even if she isn’t painting a pretty picture.

“You’re perfect the way you are. Road rage and all.” I pull into the nearest parking spot. “Now if I remember correctly, you owe me some ice cream.”

“How could I have ever forgotten? You do get mad! All anyone would have to do is eat the last of your Ben & Jerry’s.”

“Häagen-Dazs,” I correct her.

We order two swirled cones, then sit down outside at an umbrella table. I wrap Batman’s leash around the chair, and I place a bowl of water and some pieces of crumbled waffle cone on the ground beside him.

“This ice cream is borderline orgasmic,” Charlotte says, sounding like she’s in heaven.

Why the hell did she have to use that word?

Now I can’t help but notice the way Charlotte eats her ice cream, slowly taking her time with it, dragging her tongue over the surface with each deliberate lick. Her lips are pink and lush and ripe, and it makes me want to remember what they taste like. Now I’m craving her lips more than the ice cream. Bringing her here wasn’t a good idea. This is fucking torture.

Thankfully Charlotte starts making conversation. People who like to fill in the silence with trivial conversation usually annoy me, but she does it in an entertaining way. Also I can’t look at her for too long without wishing I could do things to her. At least the conversation is distracting.

“So how did Batman start working for Pet Pals?”

“My mother founded the organization. Growing up, we always had a lot of golden retrievers. It’s the standard breed to do therapy work.”

“But Batman’s a Doberman pinscher. How did you end up getting him into it?”

“He uh, sort of came into my life by accident. I found him as a puppy hanging out on my front porch one day.”

“No way. He just showed up?”

I shrug. “He was just sitting there. When he wouldn’t leave, I figured he should earn his keep.”

“Sounds like fate stepped in or something.” Her lips curve into a smile, and the sun hits her eyes in a way that magnifies the color, transforming them into shimmering pools of blue.

I cough and glance down at my watch, pretending to check the time. “Anyway, I started training him for Pet Pals. Amazingly, he picked up therapy work like he was bred for it. The way he handles his patients still surprises everyone.”

“Wow—do you realize you literally rooted for the underdog?”

I laugh once. “I’ve never looked at it that way, but yeah, that’s true.”

“Your mom must be proud.”

Instantly, I feel the weight of those words. I shuffle in my seat, unsure what to say to that. “I guess so.”

“Well, of course she must be. Doesn’t she tell you that all the time?”

“She can’t. My mom died a long time ago.” The words slip out before I can stop them.

Charlotte sucks in a small, barely noticeable breath. I hold mine in, waiting for her reaction.

I didn’t mean to go there.

Those words are connected to so many dark memories and much larger questions I don’t have the answers to. I’ve never told anyone before. Aside from the people who already know, I let people assume what they want. Sometimes they find out by researching me. Hell, all they have to do is Google my last name, and they’d find plenty of articles. In all these years though, Charlotte’s the only person I’ve ever told. She’s the first person to hear me admit it out loud. I don’t know why. I certainly don’t want her pity.

“I’m sorry.” She doesn’t break eye contact with me or act like it’s made her uncomfortable. “That must be why Pet Pals means so much to you.”

“Thanks…and yeah.”

I don’t correct her about why Pet Pals is important. I tell myself all the time the reason I go isn’t for my mom, that it’s for the cause itself, and for Batman. The truth is, I’m not sure why I’ve kept up with it. When my mom took me to work with her, those were some of the last good memories I had before she died. That could be why. Or maybe I go because it’s been a part of my life for so long that it’s now routine. I don’t know.

Charlotte opens her mouth to say something, then changes her mind. She changes the subject. “So am I forgiven for eating your Häagen-Dazs?”

I pretend to take a long time to consider my response. “Just make sure it never happens again.”

Her eyes brighten. “Or else what? You’ll murder me in my sleep?”

“Maybe. According to you, I’d have no remorse.”

She smiles again, her eyes glinting. “No, you wouldn’t. Is it weird that I’m jealous?”

“I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head. “Maybe you’ve got a twisted desire to kill someone, but you don’t want guilt to get in the way.”

She absorbs the idea like it’s a real possibility. “You may have a point there, Archer. Except in my case, there are two someones.”

It doesn’t take me long to figure out who those two someones are, and knowing how much her douchebag ex-boyfriend hurt her pisses me off. It also bothers me that she’s still thinking about him. I don’t get it. Then again, I have no problems cutting people out of my life.

“Forget about him, kid. You’re better off. Trust me.”

She pulls her hair to one side, staring at her ice cream cone as she thinks. “If I’m being honest, it’s not so much
him
that’s the problem. That relationship was too closely connected to my identity. I think I’m angrier with myself for letting him steal so much of who I was. Know what I mean?”

I shake my head, grinning. “I don’t do the girlfriend thing, remember?”

“That’s right.” She rolls her eyes. “Just the sex thing.”

“Sex is
fun
,” I say, laughing now. “All the stuff you’re talking about sounds like a fucking headache.”

“It’s not all bad. Relationships have their benefits.” She stares at me dreamily. “You have someone to stay up late talking to, someone to dance with, to hold your hand, and to cuddle—dammit Max, stop gagging. I’m being serious.”

“Cuddling?” I choke out the word, unable to keep a straight face.

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on. Cuddling makes you feel all warm and safe. It’s
nice
.”

“I’ll pass.” Jesus, I barely get enough sleep as it is.

She crunches into her cone, then breaks off a piece for Batman, who devours it within seconds. “So if emotions don’t plague you the same way they do me, then what does that mean for you? That you’re dead inside?”

I try to smile, but fail. She might’ve hit too close to home with that question. “No, not dead.”

“Then what?” She wipes her mouth with a napkin, waiting for me to answer.

“I don’t know. Just existing I guess.”

“That’s kinda sad, Max.”

“Don’t be sad for me, kid. You’ve got enough trouble as it is being sad for yourself.”

She sputters, then covers her mouth to laugh. “You’ve got me there.”

Her laughter is a beautiful sound I would have no problem listening to all day.

Everyday.

It’s fucking beautiful.

She’s
fucking beautiful.

We continue eating our ice cream, and I try to look at other things. The trees. The sky. The birds in the sky…anything but Charlotte licking that damned cone.

I should’ve driven her straight home. The more time I spend with this girl, the more I want to. I can’t let myself feel this way…not with her. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged down by someone like me. She doesn’t deserve to be thrown into the chaos that is my life.

“Ready to go?” I ask, sounding more impatient than I meant to.

“Sure.”

We get back into the truck. This time I turn the radio on full blast, hoping to drown out my thoughts. Charlotte rolls her window down, letting Batman sit in her lap while he sticks his head out, his ears and gums flapping in the wind.

Everything about this moment feels good. Almost perfect. I hate how good it feels, but I can’t help it.

When we get back to the house, there’s a car sitting outside the gate I don’t recognize. I pull in the driveway, and Charlotte gasps. There’s a strange guy sitting on my front porch steps.

“Oh, God,” she says, her voice turning scratchy. “Oh, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.”

“You know him?”

“It’s Luke.”

“Who the hell is Luke?” I ask. The boyfriend who dumped her? If so, he’s got a lot of balls showing up here.

“He’s my brother.” She wrings her hands together, shaking her head. “They found me somehow.”

“Hey, kid, don’t panic.” I try to sound reassuring. “It’ll be okay.”

“You don’t know my family.”

She jumps out of the truck as soon as we park. Her brother looks like her—slender with blonde hair and the same round face. He’s glaring at Charlotte as she approaches, throwing his hands up in the air, and asking her questions I can’t hear. She lays her hands against his chest as if to calm him down, but it doesn’t work; I can still hear him yelling.

My entire body stiffens. I open the door, whistling for Batman to follow me. That guy may be her brother, but I’ll be damned if he thinks he’s going to yell at her like that in front of me. And if he puts so much as a hand on her…

“What did you expect me to do, Char? You’ve been lying to everyone! We all thought you were in Gainesville!”

When I approach the two of them, they both go quiet. Her brother looks me up and down, distrustful. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the one to blame.

“Is everything okay?” I ask Charlotte.

She runs a hand through her hair, dispensing an uneasy breath. “We’re fine. We just need a few moments.”

The tension in her face bothers me. Leaving her alone right now with her hotheaded brother is the last thing I want to do. I don’t want to leave this spot until I know he’s calmed down.

I suppose it’s possible he was just worried. I know better than anyone what it’s like for a sister to go missing. Still, the way he shouted at her is hard for me to stomach.

“Okay. But if I hear any raised voices, I’ll assume you need my assistance.”

She nods, and her brother scowls at me. He understood exactly what I meant by that. Good.

As much as I don’t want to, I force myself to walk up the porch steps. Once I’m inside the house though, I stay close to the door. I can still see Charlotte out the front window, and I don’t plan on taking my eyes off her.

“Angry man still out there?”

Trevor’s voice catches me off guard. He’s lounging lazily on the living room sofa, his laptop sprawled across his stomach. I didn’t realize he was home.

“Did you talk to him?”

“Oh yeah. He said a lot of really nasty things too.”

I arch a brow, knowing there’s more to the story. It’s Trevor. He lives to answer the door, so he can torture strangers. “And what did you say to him?”

“Don’t give me that look, Max. I was very polite.”

“I’ll bet.”

“I greeted him and asked him how I could help. I was the epitome of courtesy and hospitality.”