31
Friday, July 25th
Lexi
Zip’s Diner is alive with the warm hum of chatter, the clinking of silverware against plates, and the faint scent of burgers and milkshakes lingering in the air. The place is filled with everyone who loves and cares about Scottie Bardeaux: my mom and stepdad Wes, the rest of the Winslow family, Finn’s mom Helen and all his siblings, Scottie’s cheerleading teammates, Kline, Georgia, Thatch, Cassie, and even Scottie’s dad, sister, and—surprisingly—her mom, despite the rocky relationship I know they’ve had.
The lights twinkle above us, adding to the festive atmosphere as the group waits in hushed anticipation. And the moment Finn pushes Scottie through the front doors, the room bursts to life, everyone, including me, shouting in unison, “Surprise!”
Ace and Julia and Kayla stand at the front, ready to greet her. And Blake is there too, a big, breathtaking smile etched on his handsome face. I don’t miss the way a few of the girls from the Dragons’ cheerleading squad flit toward the star quarterback, their eyes aflutter with overzealous flirtations.
Everyone on campus knows Blake Boden, but none of them know him quite like I do.
Maybe one day, if I can ever get over myself or if he ends up on the Mavericks like it seems as if he might…maybe one day, everyone will see all the things I do because I let them.
Scottie’s eyes are as bright as a fully lit Christmas tree when her mind starts to process what is happening, and when she spots Blake and Ace and Julia and Kayla, she exclaims, “What? I thought you were all out of town!”
A big smile covers her lips, and she also glances over her shoulder to where Finn stands behind her chair. “This is your doing?”
He nods proudly. “Yep.”
From my spot in the back corner of Zip’s Diner, I can’t make out what else they say to each other, but whatever it is, it earns an equally big smile on Finn’s normally stoic face. He even leans down to whisper something into her ear that makes her cheeks blush pink, and he presses a kiss to her lips.
If I compared this version of Finn to the version of Finn I first met nearly a year ago, I would hardly recognize him.
He’s calmer. More relaxed. His smiles come easier, and he doesn’t look like a guy who is walking around with a proverbial chip on his shoulder. He’s happy.
I know his family life has changed dramatically, with his dad behind bars and his mom and siblings in a better school district and better house that’s located in a safer part of town than where they were living.
But there’s more to Finn’s happiness. It’s written all over his face, the real-life embodiment of the heart-eyes emoji as he watches Scottie move through the crowd, getting hugs and “happy birthdays” from friends and family alike.
A hypothesis instantly takes shape in my mind: Could love be defined as finding genuine happiness in someone else’s joy? Is that the true measure of connection—when their happiness feels inseparable from your own?
The problem with my hypothesis, of course, is the same as always—the subject of love itself. It’s abstract, elusive, and defies the laws of logic in ways that can’t be studied, even by me.
It’s the part of it I hate the most, and yet, it’s the very thing that makes it so special. Love can’t be analyzed or duplicated—it’s recklessly intrinsic.
That doesn’t stop me from picking my new conjectures apart.
I look across the room to where my mom and stepdad stand chatting with Uncle Remy and Aunt Maria, and I don’t miss how my stepdad embraces my mom or how my mom’s hand never seems to leave its gentle spot on his chest.
And when I think about all the moments growing up that I’ve seen my mom or stepdad at their happiest, not a single event or memory is one where their happiness was solely wrapped up in themselves.
A visual of the way Wes looked down at my mom after she had delivered my little brother Wes Jr. into the world is permanently etched inside my brain. He had tears in his eyes, and he looked like a man who was in absolute awe of his wife.
Feeling and understanding other people’s emotions is always a challenge for me, but in that hospital room with my baby brother in my mother’s arms and Wes looking at my mom like his whole world was her, I felt the strangest urge to cry. Wes’s emotions were raw and cutting in a way even I couldn’t deny.
My gaze drifts back to Blake. He’s hugging Scottie, and whatever he says has her laughing, her smile wide and infectious. I catch my own lips twitching, an almost involuntary smile threatening to appear. But before I can even begin to dissect what that reaction means, a gentle hand lands on my shoulder, startling me out of my thoughts.
“Sorry,” a guy with dark-brown hair and chocolaty-brown eyes apologizes with a gentle smile. “I’m Adam Houth, one of the physical therapists who is working with Scottie at the Hodge Clinic.”
Confusion over why this guy is talking to me right now tugs at my expression, but I quickly compose myself and offer what I hope passes as a friendly smile. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Lexi Winslow.”
“I know who you are,” he says with a slightly self-conscious grin. Adam is an aesthetically attractive guy and looks to be a year or two older than me, but other than that, he’s just another man.
“You do?”
He nods. “Scottie loves showing pictures of her family and friends when she’s trying to procrastinate on her PT sessions.”
I snort. “I can’t say I blame her. I know her PT sessions are brutal.”
“They are,” he admits. “But she’s strong.”
“Yes. She is.” There is no denying that Scottie Bardeaux is strong. After everything she’s been through with her family life and her devastating spinal cord injury, she’s more than proven her strength and tenacity.
“So, your father is Dr. Nick Raines?”
I nod again. “Yes.”
“I had the pleasure of having a Zoom meeting with him last week,” he updates. “He wanted to know Scottie’s current PT schedule and progress and was telling me about his plans for a consult with her next week when he’s back from Germany.”
Everything he’s telling me is stuff that I already know. And when I don’t say anything, he adds, “Dr. Raines is a brilliant man.”
“He is considered one of the best neurosurgeons in the country and even most Western European nations.”
“Yeah,” Adam replies through a soft laugh. “That definitely makes sense. I mean, he gave me a basic rundown of a few of the options he felt might be a possibility for Scottie. Though, he prefaced that he couldn’t be sure until he ran more tests.” He shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. “Not going to lie, I had a hard time digesting it all.”
I tilt my head to the side. “What was hard to digest?”
“Well…” Another soft laugh leaves his lips. “Just about all of it, honestly. But I mean the part about some kind of molecular inhibition technology.”
“You mean the NVG-291?”
“Yeah.” Adam smiles. “That.”
“Basically, when someone suffers a spinal cord injury, chondroitin sulfate proteoglycans collect at the site of injury and create scar tissue that prevents any type of axonal growth and natural nerve regeneration,” I explain what already feels very straightforward to me. “NVG-291 is utilized to mitigate those inhibitory effects and aid in the nervous system working to repair itself. There’s been a lot of success with this technology in small clinical trials too. It’s proven to reactivate important regenerative processes, including axonal regeneration, remyelination, and enhanced neuroplasticity, which are vital for repairing nerve damage and restoring lost functions in patients with spinal cord injuries.”
Adam’s eyes go wide for a moment, his lashes fanning against his cheeks several times in the process. “Are you in residency for neurosurgery?”
“Oh no.” I shake my head. “My interests are more research- and lab-focused. Particularly, focused on computer science and artificial intelligence.”
“Well, it’s safe to say you’re definitely Dr. Raines’s daughter.” Adam smiles and runs a hand through his hair. “You know, if you ever want to come to one of Scottie’s PT sessions or grab lunch or coffee, I’d love to pick your brain some more.”
“Thanks, but no. Neuroscience isn’t my specialty.”
The dismissal is swift, easy, and painless—at least for me. I don’t feel bad or war with my decision, and I don’t have any trouble being the stalwart girl I’ve always known myself to be.
And isn’t that an interesting tidbit of research?
As it turns out, Blake Boden is the only guy I can’t turn down.