Gillian looked at his house again and wondered what he was like now. Was he happy? What had brought him back to his dad’s door? A bird squawked and fluttered his wings. Storm clouds chased each other, blotting out the sun and casting a dark pallor over the swollen sky.
Perfect, she thought and hoped it didn’t rain.
She stared at the barren field across the street and shuddered. The green-tipped weeds didn’t look quite as tall as she remembered, though she still imagined the perils they concealed within their dark depths. She recalled when it rained how the mud would thicken and suck at her shoes, trying to pull her down beneath the long waving grass.
A crow screamed and burst from a treetop. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then looked past the field to the line of trees that stood guard over the stream that in the winter became a raging river. Her secret place where she stole a kiss and made a promise she would break. Like her heart, the field and the trees looked dead under the gray sky, and as uninviting and desolate as a graveyard.
Gillian turned her gaze to the ramp. From this angle it was steep, and she wasn’t sure she could make it down on her own. Nor was she sure she should try. Slowly, she pushed the chair onto the ramp, clinging tightly to the wheels to keep them from rolling too fast. It took all her strength, but she was able to move halfway down the ramp before the sky opened up and the rain started to pour. The crows in the trees fluttered their wings in a hiss.
She looked behind her at the front door, then up at the sky, and groaned in frustration. She couldn’t go back without first going down and turning around. She moved a little farther, then thinking it was far enough, released the wheels. The chair plummeted down the ramp and onto the walk leading to the driveway.
As wood gave way to cement, the chair wobbled. She screamed as it tipped over and sent her sprawling into the wet grass. She bit her tongue as mud and dirt scraped the side of her face and pain ripped through her injured shoulder. Tears filled her eyes, and she gasped a deep breath.
Footsteps quickly approached. “Gillian! Are you all right?”
Her stomach clenched as mortification tore through her.No,please,not now.
Strong, familiar hands turned her over. “Gillian?”
Nick’s voice filled with concern sliced through her resolve, and all her hard-won determination to be strong, to go it on her own, evaporated. “I’m fine,” she blurted, blinking back tears. She couldn’t let him see her cry.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He scooped her up into his arms and carried her back toward the house.
She clung to him and tried to ignore her injured pride and the assault of his familiar scent on her senses. Unwanted memories rushed forward. She was helpless against the onslaught and the feelings they evoked—desire, hope,excitement. He was everything she’d always wanted until she met Paul and was swept away by his false promises.
“Where were you going? You just got out of the hospital,” he demanded as he set her down in one of the rocking chairs on the porch.
She couldn’t say she liked the way he was looking at her—the narrowing of his green eyes, the twist of his lips, lips she could still feel the impression of if she allowed herself to remember. He gestured toward her chair lying on its side in the grass, the wheels still spinning in the rain. “What was so important you had to strike out on your own like that?”
She gave him a hard stare. “I was taking a… walk. So to speak.”
His eyes widened in astonishment.
“Don’t look at me like that. The walls were closing in on me, and I needed some air.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk.
A smirk she remembered had always managed to set her teeth on edge. And still did. He retrieved her chair and set it up for her next to the rocking chair. “I’ll leave you to it then, but maybe you can get your fresh air from here. At least until the rain stops.” He turned to go.
She drew in a deep breath and before she could stop herself said, “No, Nick, wait.”
He turned back.
She looked past the edge of the porch at the rain falling in sheets and drenching the sidewalk. “Can you give me a lift?”
He stepped closer, looking surprised as his gaze held hers, trapping her more than the wheelchair ever could. “Where do you want to go?”
“I… I just need to go. Somewhere. Anywhere.” She barely recognized her voice—soft, breathy, pleading.
His eyebrows lifted in that familiar cocky tilt. Her heart gave a sudden skip
“Sorry,” he said, dashing her hopes, “but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”