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“It suits you.” I point a tentative finger at the lever, unsure if it’s okay for me to ask. “Can I ask what that’s for?”
“Sometimes, I have back spasms, and I’m not able to put pressure on my legs. If that happened while I was driving, I wouldn’t be able to step on the brakes. With this, I can use my hand to brake instead. I haven’t had to use it yet, but it’s there for safety purposes.”
“It’s great that people have created aids like this.”
He nods. “I’m lucky I can afford it. Not everyone has the luxury.”
The corners of my mouth pull down. “I can’t imagine what that’s like. Not being able to get the help you require because of money. That’s how it is for a lot of cancer patients too. We were lucky to have Mom’s health insurance, and even that didn’t cover all of the expenses. Not everyone is as fortunate.”
“There are some government-funded nonprofit agencies out there. They help people with disabilities in situations like that, but many don’t even know they exist.”
“That’s sad. I wonder how we can get the word out.”
His eyebrow arches. “We?”
“There has to be something we can do. I’m sure you donate to charity and attend events like that, right?”
His jaw muscles work under his skin. “I send a donation.”
“You don’t go to charity events? Isn’t that what all you football players do?”
“I’m not a football player anymore.”
“But you were. What about—”
“Look, I don’t need your judgement.” His words are terse, and slice through the air like a bullet.
Whoa. I hold my palms up. “Hey, no judgement here. I’m just making conversation. Trying to get to know you.”
“Well, you should stop.”
My chin jerks back. “Why?”
But he doesn’t answer. He glares out the windshield, and tightens his grip on the steering wheel.
I suck in a steadying breath, and slump against the door. He did the same thing last night. We were having a great conversation—personal—and then he swam as far away from he as he could, and the conversation died.
Every time we take one step forward, Bryce shuts down and moves us two steps back. One second, he’s staring at me like he wants to devour me whole, and the next, he’s snapping at me for asking a simple question. I know I can’t truly understand what he feels, or what he’s been through, which is why I ask questions. If he doesn’t want to open up to me, that’s fine. I’m no one to him. But if he doesn’t open up to anyone, he’s missing out on the chance of getting close to someone. And that’s a lonely life.
Bryce is lonely. He has to be. The only person I’ve seen him talk to besides me—and I don’t count, because he’s being forced to live with me—is his grandmother. He spends his days working at the inn, and he doesn’t go out at night. It’s like he’s hiding himself away from the world, staying in his secluded little bubble.
It’s heartbreaking.
I shift in my seat, and turn to look at him. “I’m sorry for asking about your personal business. You don’t owe me an explanation for anything. It’s very generous of you to donate to charity. Let’s leave it at that.”
His harsh profile softens a fraction, and he gives me a quick nod.
I lean forward and twist the knob on the radio to raise the volume, letting him know I’m done asking questions.
When we reach the Bar Harbor marina, I follow Bryce onto a floating dock. The sun glistens off the water in the bay like a sea of diamonds as the boats bob up and down in the bay. The tension releases from my neck after the ride in, and the corners of my mouth tip upward.
Bryce slides on his Aviator sunglasses, and gestures to two men in rubber boots several feet down the dock unloading a large cooler from a boat. “We only buy our fish from them. Bill has been friends with Nana for decades.”
Bill is short and stocky, and almost fully bald. He looks like a grumpy old man with thick creases lining his forehead and between his bushy grey brows, but he smiles wide when he spots Bryce. “Hey, big guy. Wait until you see what we caught today. It’s going to knock Bea’s socks off.”
Bryce reaches out and clasps his hand. “Let’s see what you got.”
Bill’s eyes flick to mine. “Well, forgive me, little lady. I didn’t see you there behind this wall of a man. Who might you be?”
