Chapter 12 Elise #2
His expression changed again, no doubt because that, in clinical terms, meant she would never walk again. She saw the sympathy in his eyes. Normally hated it, but not with him.
“That had to have been really hard for, what?” He winced. “A ten-year-old girl?”
“Yeah.” This single syllable could never convey how hard it had been. Fifteen years ago, she’d dealt with the agony of realizing she’d run, skied, danced, and stood in the shower for the last time. She’d been a child. A terrified, heartbroken, paralyzed kid around the same age as Benny and Olivia.
They’d been the darkest days of her life.
“Honestly,” she said quietly, “the emotional pain was way more traumatic than the physical pain.”
“How did you cope?” he asked.
“Therapy—physical, emotional, mental. My parents were amazing. My brother was an absolute angel. And I guess I was blessed with a decent attitude in life.”
“Not a victim,” he said. “I love that about you.”
She managed not to react, taking an unsteady breath instead.
“By the time I was a teenager, I’d figured out how to do life with a lightweight chair and strong upper-body muscles.
I do everything from here up.” She tapped the top of her thighs lightly.
“And a whole lot from here.” She touched her forehead.
He listened like it was the most important case summary he’d ever heard. “I’m…blown away.”
“By the injury?” she asked.
“By you. By your determination and spunk and refusal to let a tragedy ruin your life.”
She felt some tears sting. No compliment could mean more—he got her. He understood what she’d fought for and felt, right now, at least, like she’d won.
“I just want to live an ordinary life and be a working vet,” she said softly. “That was always the dream.”
“You are, although nothing about you is ordinary,” he said. “Honestly? I forgot you were in a wheelchair in that OR. All you were was closer to the surgical site and incredibly competent.”
“Thank you,” she said. “It was fun to watch you work.”
He searched her face, thinking. “Have you ever considered…not being in the chair?”
“When I’m in bed,” she cracked, “and don’t want to get up.”
“Seriously, Elise. I’m sure you know there are incredible things happening right now in mobility science. In neurostimulation, AI-assisted exosuits, spinal cord interface breakthroughs. Not guarantees. Just… possibilities.”
Her heart squeezed at the gentle hope in his voice, and that familiar, fleeting worry slipped in again—the fixer of lost causes.
“For now, I’m happy in school, just being Hale on Wheels, as they call me.”
He chuckled. “Cute.”
“Cute but…I don’t want wheels to be the first thing people see about me. That’s why…”
“Why what?” he pressed when she stopped, realizing she’d gone too far. “Elise?”
“Why I was so confident when I met you,” she confessed on a whisper. “There was no chair. Just Copper and me, high and mighty in a saddle like a…”
“Like a spirited, stunning, sassy cowgirl,” he finished for her.
“Not what I was going to say.”
“But it’s what I saw.”
“Until you saw…” She bit her lip. “The harness.”
He shrugged. “Didn’t stop me, Elise. I’m a doctor. I see past injuries or medical conditions to the person under it all. And this person?” He reached across the table, taking her hand and stealing her breath. “Is really attractive to me.”
This person or…this patient?
She pushed the thought away and let the compliment roll over her like a tidal wave, completely surrendering to the power of it. Had anyone ever said anything like that to her?
No.
“That’s…nice.” She laughed at the ridiculous understatement. “And it’s…” She took a breath, terrified to finish, but wanting so much to say it. “It’s mutual.”
A slow smile pulled, revealing the shadow of one dimple, perfect teeth, and a light in his eyes that she wanted to get lost in.
“Well, what do you know,” he muttered. “Cowgirl likes me. Now what?”
“Now I tell you a little more.”
“Please,” he whispered. “Tell me everything.”
“Okay.” She shifted a little, gathering her thoughts, diving into the deep end because she liked him—and trusted him—so much.
“I am perfectly capable of living a full, independent life, although it took some work to persuade my family that was true. But I have. And I’m also perfectly capable of…
having a normal relationship.” Heat crept up her neck, but she pushed through.
“Most of my spinal cord is just fine. The parts that make a person…a person? Those work.”
He studied her, understanding in his eyes. “Of course they do.”
“Try explaining that on a first date.” She let out a shaky laugh. “Or, you know, even getting to the first date when the guy sees your wheels and panics. It just…felt easier not to try. School was safer. Work was safer. Animals never look at me like that.”
“Like what?” he asked.
“Like they’re calculating all the things I can’t do instead of the things I can.” She toyed with the cardboard sleeve on her coffee “So, yeah. Long answer to your question, but that’s why I haven’t dated.”
He nodded slowly, like he was filing every word away. “For what it’s worth,” he said, “I think any man who can’t see past that chair is missing out on a lot. Any guy would be lucky to be the one beside you.”
Her heart thudded at that tiny preposition. Beside you. Not pushing, not leading. Beside.
“You’re very…open-minded,” she murmured.
“I’m very interested,” he corrected. “Is that okay?”
She let herself really look at him then—the tousled hair still damp from the scrub sink, the strong hands that had just saved a sheep’s eye, the kindness that never seemed to leave his expression.
“It’s…more than okay,” she said. “Because I am very interested, too.”
“Good. Can I take you out to dinner?”
She laughed, then, buoyed both by the question and the lightning speed that he asked. “Yes,” she said. “And maybe I’ll even get my first kiss.” She winced and covered her face. “Can’t believe I just said that.”
Slowly, he pushed his chair back and stood. She looked up, uncertainty crawling over her at his serious expression.
Wordlessly, he stepped around the table, came right up to the side of her chair, and lowered himself so they were the same height.
“How about we get that first one out of the way,” he said softly. “Because if I don’t kiss you right now, I’ll spend the next day or so kicking myself.”
She took a slow breath, letting her gaze drop to his beautiful mouth, already imagining the feel of his lips.
“May I?” he asked.
She could only nod.
He lifted a hand, giving her every chance to pull back, and then his fingers brushed her cheek, warm and careful and so, so gentle, the hint of antiseptic soap still clinging to him.
He leaned in, eliminating the last inch of space, and pressed his mouth to hers.
The kiss was soft and steady and sure, his lips were warm, tasting faintly of coffee and something uniquely him. He kissed her like she was precious and strong and exactly who she wanted her to be.
For that moment, everything—wheelchairs and scars and old fears—fell away. There was just the feel of him, the quiet of the café, and the dizzy, impossible realization that they genuinely liked each other.
When he finally drew back, it was only far enough to rest his forehead against hers.
“Well,” she sighed. “Good to know the whole kissing thing is not overrated.”
“And gets even better with practice.”
She let out a breathless laugh. “Can’t wait.”
On a sigh, he pushed to his feet with easy grace. “Let’s go check on our patient in recovery, then I’ll take you home and we’ll plan our practice session—er, dinner date.”
Later, after he’d left—and after about five kisses, ten hugs, and a solid plan to go out in a few days—Elise rolled to her mirror and tried to see herself the way Wade Reynolds did.
Spirited, stunning, sassy.
As she replayed his compliments, her whole face seemed to change. She didn’t look at herself like a disabled twenty-five-year-old wheeling herself through a sad and sometimes deeply disappointing life.
She was…his cowgirl. Not a project, not a problem, not a lost cause. And that made the whole world look blindingly bright and full of possibilities.