He holds my hand all the way to the airport, and only lets go when we pull up at the drop-off point. He grabs my case out of the trunk and stands in front of me on the sidewalk. “You want me to park up and come in with you?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I’ll check in and get something to eat before I board.” I take a deep breath, knowing what’s coming next. I hate goodbyes. “Well …”

“Well,” Torr whispers back, opening his arms to me. I practically jump the two paces between us and wrap my arms around his waist, burying my head into his warm chest and breathing him in for what I’m pretty sure will be the last time. He rests his cheek on the top of my head before saying, “God, I’m going to miss you.”

“I know.” I pull back from his chest and look up at his glistening eyes. “I’m going to miss you, too. Thanks for everything, Torr. You’ve been a great friend.”

“I’m good at being a good friend.” He shuffles his feet, and lets out a heavy sigh.

“Hey.” I place my hand on his cheek and position myself so he has to look into my eyes. “Your happily ever after is out there somewhere. I don’t even know if I will have mine, yet. But remember that everything happens for a reason. Maybe you need to start wishing on shooting stars.” I offer him a smile, and he nods slowly before smiling back at me.

“Okay.” He breathes deep before taking my hand in his. “I gotta go. You sure you’re going to be okay from here?”

“Sure thing, tiger,” I chirp.

“Tiger?”

I shrug and wince. “It seemed like a tiger moment.”

“Get outta here.” He shoves my shoulder playfully and I smack his arm with the back of my hand.

“I’m going,” I say, but I hesitate to move.

“I’ll miss you,” he whispers, his eyes glassing over. He places his palm to my cheek and moves in slowly to press his lips to mine. My eyes close, and I savor every second of him without guilt or regret. It’s a tender goodbye, one I’ll always remember. “Goodbye, firebird,” he speaks quietly against my lips. Then he turns and leaves, glancing back only as he opens his car door to give me a wink before driving off and leaving me to go home.

Chapter 17

I finish up a therapy session with Dan that went really well. I’m beginning to feel a little more positive every day. This can be attributed to many different things. One of them, surprisingly, is Ben. He’s so innocent, yet full of life and hope, and it made me realize that I could at least try harder and not wallow in the depths of self-pity that I had grown used to. I know he didn’t want a new wheelchair, and I didn’t want to make him feel like I didn’t believe he would walk again, so D and I arranged to have five brand new wheelchairs delivered to the therapy center as a donation. The thought of someone needing one and not being able to have it ate away at my conscience and made me realize that while I might not be lucky to have had the accident in the first place, I had the luxury of money that could buy comfort and make my life easier.

“Spike!” Ben calls out as I’m leaving the therapy room. I turn around to see him click his new chair forward with ease, his little arms not having to struggle and fight with wheels half the size of him. If I could grab him up out of that chair and swing him around, I would. But we stop our chairs in front of each other and bump fists, which has become our new greeting.

“What do you think?” he asks with a smile stretching across his chubby little freckled cheeks. He pulls the chair back and spins it in a circle.

“Wow! Those are smart wheels you have there, dude.” I’m overwhelmed with happiness that I can make just a small difference to this little boy’s life.

“Yeah. The center had a donation and they offered one to me. I won’t need it for long though,” he insists sternly with a frown.

“Of course you won’t, buddy. But it’ll give those arms of yours a little rest,” I tell him with a smile. He’s tenacious. Actually, he’s like a little version of Lottie.

“When I’ve finished with it, I’m going to polish it and give it to another kid to use.”

“I think that sounds like an awesome idea.” I swallow the hard lump in my throat. Kindness knows no bounds, and this kid has it in heaps. I don’t actually think he realizes how much he’s taught me since that day he walked just six small steps. For someone in a wheelchair, that’s like walking on the moon.

“Will you be here again tomorrow, Spike?”

“Yep, you bet! Those legs of yours feeling strong, soldier?”

“Yes, sir. I did eight steps yesterday and mom said because I ate all my dinner last night, and three pancakes this morning, that I should have enough energy to do the ten that I’m aiming for today. Will you stay and watch?”

“Of course,” I answer without hesitation. “Of course I will stay and watch.” I have no firm plans today anyway, and even if I did, I would cancel them for Ben.

I daydream out of the window as Denham drives us home from the therapy center. Seeing Ben with new wheels, knowing D and I have made a difference to not only his life, but others too, fills me with immense satisfaction and pride. We’ve spoken about setting up a charity for underprivileged children to get them equipment and provide therapy sessions that they need to help them live as fulfilled lives as possible. Not only does it feel great to be doing something for others, it’s a focus that I need to push me out of bed when I’m having a bad day.

“Mom and Ari are doing lunch across the hall for Tara in a couple of hours, you coming?” D asks.

“Of course,” I answer easily. It’s becoming easier for me to say yes to social arrangements than it was before, especially if it’s just across the hall.

“Okay,” he mutters distractedly, turning to leave but not actually going anywhere. He’s been deep in thought and hasn’t lost the deep crease in the center of his forehead since Tara announced she was leaving on her road trip.

“You okay, bro?” I ask as he pulls in to the parking lot of the hotel. “You’ve been quiet since yesterday.”

“No, I’m not fucking okay,” he mutters, pulling into his space and cutting the engine. “She’s twenty-four years old, Spike. How the fuck am I supposed to look after her if she’s biking down the coast? What if she falls off, huh? What if she knocks herself unconscious?”

“D…” I try to halt him, but he’s on a roll.

“What if some slimy bastard targets her because she’s solo? Oh, god. She could get raped or something.”

“D!” I call out a little louder.

“We won’t be able to help her, Spike,” he snaps, clearly struggling with his thoughts.

“D, will you just breathe for fuck’s sake, you said it yourself, but you need to look at it from a different angle. She’s twenty-four years old. What were you doing at twenty-four, huh?”

“I was pretty much running this place,” he answers, scraping a hand across his mouth in agitation.

“Exactly. She’s not a stupid kid. Yes, she’s got herself into a few situations. Yes, she’s made some poor choices, but that’s no different than you or I. Let her find her way. She’s smarter and tougher than you think. Or than you want to think.”

“I just−”

“She doesn’t need us watching her back every minute of the day, bro. We’ve all taught her to be the kickass, headstrong, beautiful girl that she is. Trust in that, trust in her and let her make her own choices,” I finish what turned out to be a bit of a speech, and D doesn’t answer right away, which means that he’s thinking over what I’ve said. That doesn’t happen often.

He sits with his body turned toward me and his elbow resting on the steering wheel. “You know I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know,” I grin.

“You know I hate it when you verbalize how right you are?” He raises one brow at me in annoyance.