5. The Walk That Wrecked Me #2
“That makes one of us,” Mina replies with a grin. “Baking has always been my thing. Leave the cooking for someone else, although I’m willing to learn. Sadly, I feel like I have nothing to offer you in return, outside of muffins.”
If she only knew…
Mind, please climb out of the gutter and return to your proper place inside my skull.
“I’m sure we can figure something out.” I slide into the empty chair beside her and pat my thighs. “Bring that ankle up here. Time to inspect the damage.”
“It’s not pretty,” Mina says before sliding her leg across my lap. “You’ve been warned.”
“Mina, everything about you is pretty.” And then I see her ankle. “Although?—”
“Told you. Ugly as hell, right?”
“Looks painful as hell.” It does, too. Her ankle is swollen with a diffuse purple bruise stretching across the top of her foot.
She stays quiet as I gently probe the area, but a low whimper whistles through her teeth when I touch her inner ankle.
“I don’t think it’s broken, but you twisted the life out of it.” I lift her leg, moving it gingerly to an empty seat. “Be right back.”
Two minutes later, I’m kneeling by her injured paw, a first aid kit in hand.
“There really isn’t anything you can’t do, is there, Braden?”
“I’m not performing surgery. Just wrapping your ankle and giving you an ice pack. Child’s play.”
“Do you always do that?”
I pause, the roll of gauze in my hand. “Do what?”
“Deflect when someone pays you a compliment?”
I consider her question as I secure the bandage. “I guess I do. Never was very good at taking compliments.”
“I find it impossible to believe that a man like you doesn’t see how great he is.”
Let me tell you, this woman is going to explode my ego if she keeps lobbing compliments at me. “You’re one to talk.”
“What do you mean?”
“You deny that pretty much every guy in town wants you. And I’m starting to think you actually believe that nonsense.”
“If I’m so great, then why am I chronically single?”
I chuckle and stand, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “But you’re not, remember? You’re engaged to a big, strong, awesome guy.”
Mina laughs at my forced self-evaluation. “I see you’re improving at the whole compliment thing.”
“My ego is big enough, sweets.” I stow the first aid kit and help Mina to the couch. “I think we have some crutches around here, but I need you to stay off your foot for a few days, okay? Give it time to heal.”
Mina shakes her head, shooting me a mock glare when I slide a pillow beneath her foot. “I will not sit around while you do everything. Besides, I have work. I need to be on my feet.”
“Ori is going to tell you the same thing I am. You’re on couch duty. Netflix and chill for the next seventy-two hours. Your job is to find us a movie. I’m going to bring us a couple of plates of food. You want a beer or aspirin?”
“Both?”
“Nice try.”
“Beer. I’ll worry about the pain tomorrow,” she grumbles.
Mina has a romantic comedy queued when I return with the beers and spaghetti. “Not a word. You gave me control of the remote control.”
“Hey, I like romcoms,” I reply, settling next to her on the couch.
Mina rolls her eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing. You’re perfect. I always figured that would be annoying, but it’s awesome.” She plays with the edge of the blanket, the smile falling from her face. “No one has ever taken care of me, outside of my folks.”
“What happened to your dad?” I’m unsure if I should ask, since she rarely mentions him.
“He died three years ago. Heart attack. He was young. Too young.” Mina sucks in a shaky breath. “I miss him.”
“I’m sure you do. I’ll bet he was proud of you.”
“He told me, Mina, I don’t care what you do, so long as you do it with your whole heart. He passed right before my accident, so he died thinking my future was set. Little did he know.”
“He sounds like a smart man.”
“He was the best. ”
Time to change the subject because my girl seems on the verge of tears.
I clear my throat and take a swallow of beer. “Does your ankle give out a lot?”
Mina wobbles her head. “It has its moments. Ever since the injury, it’s been a lot weaker than my other leg.”
“Do you still dance?”
“Nah,” she says. “I told you before—I gave up competitive dancing after the injury.”
“Yeah, but what about at your house? Or your mom’s? Just for fun?”
She smiles, but there’s no mirth in it. “No. I stopped taking lessons. And there wasn’t room for a barre or twirling at my mother’s house. It’s just too small. But I have memories of twirling.”
For someone as young as Mina, she carries such a heavy emotional sadness. A sadness I recognize.
What most people don’t know is that I gave up my dream early too—albeit a bit more willingly than Mina had to give up hers. But I know what it’s like to have a plan for your life, only to have it shot to shit.
Maybe that’s why I’m so eager to help her realize her dream.
Because she deserves to win.
I wrap my arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a hug. “Hey, you’ve got a bright future ahead of you. I see a ton of twirling in your future. After you heal up, obviously.”
She rests her head on my shoulder with a contented sigh. “You know, when you say it, I almost believe it.”