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Instead, she slips her hand into mine, and pulls me to where she’s standing. “Take one with me.” She wraps her arm around my waist, snuggling her cheek against my chest. She fits like that’s where she belongs.
She lifts her phone for a selfie, and pauses. “Half your head is cut off. You’re too damn tall.”
I take the phone from her, and hold it up. “Or maybe you’re just too shrimpy.”
She glares up at me, and I grin as I take the first photo.
We take a couple more, from smiling to sticking out our tongues. On the last take, she swipes her tongue across my cheek.
I wipe off her spit, and arch a brow. “Be careful where you stick that thing.”
She plants her hands on her hips, giving me a playful smirk. “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
“You bring it near me again, and you’re not getting it back.”
I surprise myself letting those words out, but she surprises me even more with her comeback.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” She winks, and continues taking pictures, as if our flirty banter has no effect on her whatsoever.
My dick, on the other hand, is so affected.
I don’t recommend hiking with a boner. Not fun.
We continue along the trail, and head down the other side of the cliff. As each group of hikers pass us, their eyes flick to my crutches, to my legs, and back again. By now, I’m used to the stares. Used to people searching for a visible sign of my injury. But Charly isn’t.
Her nose scrunches. “They act like they’ve never seen crutches before.”
“It’s a little unusual, seeing a disabled person on a hiking trail.”
“I don’t know if I’d be as nonchalant as you about it.”
I stop and rest against a tree, setting my backpack on the ground by my feet. “I’m in a place where I’m able to shrug it off, but I wasn’t at first. I used to get angry, or forgo going out because I wasn’t in the mood for questions like, What happened to you? and How long will you be like this?”
She takes a sip from her canteen. “Do you still go to therapy?”
I shake my head. “I stopped going a couple years ago. I also went to group counseling sessions for disabled people. Some were veterans, some were born with their disabilities, and others were like me. It really helped me during a dark time in my life. I learned that having a disability doesn’t mean I have to stop doing everything. It just means most things are more challenging.”
She squeezes my forearm. “I’m proud of you for going to therapy. It takes courage to talk about what you’re going through, and ask for help, regardless of what it is.”
“Ah.” I rub the back of my neck. “It wasn’t a big deal. Lots of people go to therapy.”
Her lips part. “You really don’t see what an amazing man you are, do you?”
My pulse quickens. “I’m nothing special. Maybe I was once, on the field.”
She coughs an incredulous laugh. “Your athletic talent doesn’t mean shit if you aren’t a good person.” She pokes my chest with her index finger. “Who you are in here is what sets you apart from everyone else.”
I wrap my fingers around her wrist, and press her palm over my heart, letting her feel the way it beats when she’s near, unable to form the words.
“You’re special, Bryce.” She takes my hand, and presses it to her chest too. “And you’re special to me.”
Her heart hammers the same cadence as mine, like they’re in sync now that they’ve found one another.
I want to close the gap between us, want to kiss her lips and show her how she makes me feel. But I hesitate, and the moment passes.
Charly steps back, her hand dropping to her side. “Where’s our next stop, Mr. Tour Guide?”
I kick off my shoes. “We need to change into our boots before we go any further.”
