How to Keep Rolling After a Fall (17 page)

The mention of Jack's name stirs up a feeling of discomfort. “He didn't seem like that nice a person,” I note.

“A lot of the time he's not.” Pax stretches his arm across his chest and rubs at his shoulder some more. “He's pretty bitter about life in general. It seems like it has to do with more than just being in a wheelchair, actually. And he gets pretty aggressive. You can tell when that's coming from a bad place.”

After a moment of silence, I ask, “What did he mean, anyway?”

“About what?”

“When he said ‘Have fun till the novelty wears off' or whatever?”

Pax gives a humorless chuckle. “I think it's pretty obvious.” He shrugs. “I was telling you the truth—I haven't really tried the whole dating thing since the accident. Those guys all have. And I guess more often than not … people who don't
have
to have their lives restricted by a wheelchair? Ultimately decide they really don't want to.” He glances away from me. “Maybe sooner rather than later.”

I bristle. “It was kind of offensive.”

He turns back around and looks at me head-on. “It's reality, Nikki.” He shakes his head. “I'm guessing what he said … It was based on experience.”

There's a hard edge to his voice I don't really like, and I draw my hand away from his, tucking it into my lap.

But a second later he reaches for it, and his voice is soft again when he speaks. “Let's not talk about this crap. I don't really feel like thinking about it, to be honest.” Pax looks me over, searching for something to comment on. “How come you're so dressed up tonight?” he asks, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles again. He tugs on the top of one of my boots. “These boots are hot.”

“Oh.” I sit up and clear my throat. “So … it seems like my mom really took your visit to heart.” I wind my fingers through his and squeeze his hand, to remind him one more time how much I appreciate his efforts. “I think she's at least … trying … to be kind of forgiving or whatever, or at least treat me like a human being again.”

“So she bought you new boots?”

I throw back my head and laugh. “No, goof.” I fiddle with a curl. “We were sort of supposed to spend time together tonight. She offered to go with me to see a play at Stockton and maybe talk to the students or the director afterward.”

Pax's lips settle into a grim line, and he struggles to fully right himself. “How come you didn't go?”

“I wanted to come here more.”

Pax blows a breath through his lips and rubs at his forehead. “Nikki.” He groans a little bit. “You should've gone. It's a pretty huge deal on your mom's part to put that out there.”

“I know, but—”

“You can hang out with me anytime, but if your mom finds out you blew off your plans with her to come here, that might change pretty quickly.”

“She's not gonna find out. As long as I leave here in the next fifteen minutes or so, it's just like I'm coming home from work, like I couldn't get out early.”

“I still think you should've gone.”

A biting sadness constricts my chest. “I'm sorry.” And my voice is shakier than I'd like. “I thought you wanted to hang out.”

“I did, Nikki. I do.”

I look at his face and decide he still looks more disapproving of my decision than not, which is unsettling. “This was just a big opportunity for you, for you to get back something that you wanted. As much as I wanted to see you tonight, it's a crappy feeling that my inviting you over spoiled that, when things with your parents are so shaky. I'm sorry, but it just is.”

We sit in silence as I stare down at the fabric of the couch, feeling shitty about my mom and now Pax, too. It takes a few minutes before I sense the tension leaving his body, and with a frustrated sigh, he reaches for me again. He plants a kiss on my temple and holds my head close to his. “I'm sorry,” he whispers. “Don't look so sad. I was really happy spending tonight with you, so damn happy when I saw you at the center. I don't want tonight to be ruined.”

I try to force a smile, but I'm not really successful.

So Pax resorts to tickling me, right below my ribs, and in spite of myself I start giggling, the laughter dislodging something inside me. Eventually, I collapse against his chest and let my body relax against his.

“I'm glad you came over tonight,” he says again. “Are you gonna be around this weekend?”

“Yeah.”

“I have to work on Friday and have a game Saturday morning, but that's all.”

I twist my hair out of my face and look up at him. “I have to work Friday, too. But my friend Sam's playing in this talent showcase thing on Saturday. She wants me to go. D'you wanna come?”

“Are you doing it, too?”

I shake my head adamantly. “Hell no. Not something like that.”

“Bummer. But yeah, that's cool. Let's do that, then.” Pax looks up at the clock. “You need to get going, right? I really don't want to get you in trouble again.”

Reluctantly, I nod in agreement and keep his hand in mine as he accompanies me to the door. I lean down to give him a quick kiss good night, but he holds me a beat longer, turning the kiss lazy and gentle, before smiling up at me and reminding me to drive safely.

I nod one more time before I step through the door and close it behind me, exhaling with relief when I do. Inside my car, I struggle to squirm out of my skirt and back into my scrubs so my story seems legit, staring at the closed door while I change. I want all the bad parts of tonight—the conversation about Jack, Pax's concern about my choices—to stay locked behind it, but somehow they're still with me.

 

Chapter 12

Pushing a cart through the quiet rehab center halls on Friday night, I wish it were Saturday already. With each day that passed, the worries that had gathered like distant storm clouds as I left Pax's subsided, and my wanting to see him again only increased.

And Pax seems to be feeling the same way. Technically speaking, he's at work, but he must be texting me every free minute—the setup for some awful, inappropriate wheelchair joke, and then the punch line a minute later.

I shake my head at the latest and respond.
This is so wrong.

I'm allowed!

You might be allowed to tell them, but I don't think I'm supposed to laugh.

I catch a glimpse of the clock at the end of the hall—chatting with Pax made the hours fly by, and my shift is over in five minutes.
All right, I'm getting out of here
, I tell him.
Talk 2 u later?

Of course. And I'm jealous. I'm here for another three hours.

Sorry. That sucks.

Yeah, I'm unusually tired. And I didn't eat yet.

You didn't eat?

Nah. But it's cool. At ten o'clock, there's a Big Mac with my name on it. Talk to you then.

When I grab my bag from the staff room, I remember that I drive right by Breakwater on my way home. And there's a McDonald's right by the causeway. I should stop, I decide. In the name of altruism. It's not right that he has to wait until ten o'clock to have his dinner.

Before I pull out of the staff lot, I search on my phone for the address of the emergency dispatch center. It looks like it's housed in a building adjacent to the Breakwater Fire Company. A flash of hesitation grips me as I wonder if people off the street are even allowed inside, but then I twist the key in the ignition, deciding not to overthink it. If I can't go in, maybe a coworker can at least run out and grab the food for Pax. Considering this possibility, I'm disappointed, and I remind myself about the whole altruism thing.

Driving like a madwoman so I have time for the drive-through and drop-off and can make it home without giving away my detour, I make it to the 911 call center in no time. Then I text Pax again.
Hey, guess what? I'm outside. I have something for you.

My phone rings a second later. “Hello?”

“You're here?” he asks. “At my work?”

“Um, yeah.” I feel a little bit silly. “I have something for you, but … I can just leave it outside if you want.”

“No, come in!” he assures me. “So far it's been a quiet night. And they're pretty lax around here. My supervisor won't mind if you come in.” I hear him call to someone across the room. “April, it's cool if I have a visitor, right?” He's back a few seconds later. “April says it's cool. Come in. Go through the double doors and turn left.”

I follow his directions and find my way to the large, spacious room. There are four banks of computers, each grouping arranged in a semicircle in front of the operator to allow him or her some level of privacy and quiet when fielding calls. Immediately, I decide it's a lot to manage, all those flashing screens constantly sending out snippets of information and updates. When I enter, I hear Pax whistle, and use the sound to locate him in his work center.

I smile at the sight of him—all grown-up and responsible-looking in his polo shirt, khakis, and headset. But he smiles even wider when I stand before him and hold up the greasy McDonald's bag.

“You brought me dinner?” he asks, incredulous.

I nod. “This Big Mac didn't have your name on it, just so you know. This one was supposed to go to someone named Pablo. But I took it anyway.”

Pax laughs loudly and gestures me over. “C'mere.”

When I'm close enough, he takes the bag out of my hands and tugs on my arm, pulling me in for a kiss. It's pretty intense for public, let alone work, and I pull back a minute later.

“It's just dinner,” I remind him with a grin.

He plants one more quick kiss on my lips, opens the bag, and leans forward to feed me a French fry. “Well, I was really hungry.”

I see the woman seated at the nearest bank of computers shake her head as she watches us. “You two are so sweet you're gonna give me diabetes.” She stands, holding a ginormous plastic soda cup up to us. “I'm running over to Wawa for a refill. You need anything?”

“Thanks, April.” Pax looks back at me. “But I'm good now.”

Damn if he doesn't have the best smile.

“No, seriously, thank you,” he tells me when she leaves, taking a huge bite of burger. He gestures toward an empty rolling chair nearby, and I plop down beside him. “Hopefully, this will get me through the night. I'm really dragging.”

“You all right?”

“Yeah, I'll be fine.” He chugs his water bottle and changes the subject quickly. “So you didn't get busted for coming over the other night, did you?”

I twist back and forth in the chair and frown at my lap. My mom hadn't given me a hard time about not being able to make the show. She hadn't questioned my story, either, which was sort of new. Given the seed of guilt Pax had planted, I ended up feeling pretty bad about the whole thing.

“No, it was okay.” I look up at him. “You did make me feel pretty guilty about it, though.”

Pax raises an eyebrow at me. “Nobody can
make
you feel guilty,” he says around a mouthful of burger. “You feel guilty because you know there's a reason to feel guilty.”

I swipe a French fry and toss it at him. “Okay,
Yoda
. Thanks for that wisdom.”

He laughs, nearly choking on his food, and finishes his water. “Smart-ass.” Then, after he finishes his dinner, he reassures me one more time. “I'm glad you came over on Wednesday. I'm not trying to give you a hard time about it. And I'm glad you stopped over tonight.” Pax looks at me for another minute, taking in my lilac scrubs, and I can tell he's working to keep the smirk off his face.

“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.

He shakes his head. “No, I mean, don't get me wrong. I liked the boots and the miniskirt, but I might like you in the scrubs even more. Told you, I noticed you at the center before we met.”

“Please. They're
scrubs
.”

Pax leans forward, toward me. “Do you have any idea how many months I spent in the hospital and rehab center after the accident, during the surgeries?” He raises his eyebrows. “I always thought, just once, I'm going to get a hot nurse. Just once, someone who actually manages to look sexy in scrubs is going to walk into my room and give me something to look at.” His full smile blooms, and his eyes sparkle with laughter. “It took a while, but … looking at you? It's pretty nice delayed gratification.”

I shake my head, even though I'm grinning, too. “I'm not going to act out your twisted little nurse fantasy.”

Yet I find myself standing, moving toward him. I mean, the boy thinks I look good in scrubs.

I kiss him playfully—once, twice, three times. By the third kiss, although his lips remain soft against mine, his hands have found a solid grip on my hips. I let my hair fall forward, creating a curtain around us, as my lips part and I kiss him for real.

He pulls back and chuckles in my ear. “I spend a lot of hours in the call center, too, ya know. You might be inspiring a whole new fantasy here.”

I take a quick look around. April still isn't back, and the other operators are clear across the room, hidden behind entire walls of computers. “I like it,” I tell him, leaning forward to kiss him again. He wraps his arms around me, his hands finding the bare patch of skin between my top and my drawstring pants, and I shiver at the touch of his fingertips. I understand this can't really go much further, but for now …

Pax's computer starts beeping frantically. He winces and wheels back and away from me. “Knew that was going to happen. I mean, I should've bet on it.”

Despite his words, he's all business, all at once, putting one finger up for me to wait, while focusing his full attention on the screens in front of him, tapping away at his keyboard. “9-1-1, is this an emergency?”