Chapter 6

“I think you'd sound nice with a British accent,” Amantha said as Joey and I walked by her desk at the end of the day.

I smiled. “You think so, huh?”

“Yeah. I've thought about it and a nice Cockney dialect should do. Start studying.”

I laughed. “You assume I'm going to lose. That's not happening.”

“What's this?” Joey asked.

Amantha said, “Zion and I have a bet going. He has to guess my last name. If he doesn't, I win. So if he asks, don't tell him.”

Joey grinned. “Lips are sealed. You kids have fun. I have classes this evening so I have to go. G’night.”

“Night, Joey.”

“Good night,” Amantha said.

Joey headed out the front door.

“Are you about ready?” I asked her.

“Yeah, let me shut down my computer here.” She focused on the monitor and her mouse clicked rapidly as she shut down.

“Do you want to get something to eat when we leave? I can drive there, then we can come back for your car,” I said.

“Sure.” She smiled at me.

I went to the door to wait for her.

She grabbed her purse out of a drawer and put the short handle over her arm, then glanced at her computer screen. Satisfied the computer was off, her seat propelled backward.

Instead of standing like I expected, Amantha wheeled herself around the desk in a wheelchair.

Surprise shot through my system. Did she hurt herself?

“Are you okay? What happened?” I blurted anxiously.

Did I need to hurt someone? I didn't see any bruises or broken bones. I'd go to battle for her if she needed it. That protective instinct blazed through my body.

“You don't know? I figured Joey already told you.” Amantha wheeled toward me. She wore a simple blouse, jeans, and tennis shoes.

“Joey said nothing.” For which I would kill him later. “What's going on?” Wait, I shouldn't ask that. I was being rude. “I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me anything. But if I need to hurt someone, you need to point me in the right direction.”

She laughed. “It’s okay. I don't mind telling you. I was in a car accident about six months ago. The reason for the wheelchair is that the accident shattered my ankle. My foot was on the brake pedal and the impact drove it into my ankle. There's a lot of metal in there. I’ve been doing physical therapy, but I can't walk far on it yet. Mostly, I'm wheelchair-bound, for now anyway. The therapist says I'll be on a cane for a while once I can walk more.”

What? This wasn't new? “You've been in a wheelchair the whole time you've worked here?”

She nodded. “I have.”

“I didn't notice at all.”

“Good. I try not to let it limit me.” She gestured at the chair. “This doesn't define who I am. I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

I sighed and nodded. My hand ran through my hair. “Sorry. I'm just shocked. I didn't notice.”

She smiled. “Well, I’ve only been here for three days. Don't beat yourself up too much.”

I smiled sadly and raised my hands in surrender. “I’m moving on, I promise. Ready for dinner?”

“Yes. Your treat.” She raised her eyebrows.

“Well, of course. I am a gentleman.”

She laughed in surprise. “Gentleman. Riiiiiight. In your dreams.”

I smirked. “Hey, it could be true.”

“Sure. The same way you can guess my name.”

“Oh, I'm getting your name. That’s 100% the truth.” I opened the glass door and pulled out my keys.

Amantha steered her chair forward. She flicked off the light switch by the door and wheeled outside.

I closed the door and used a key to lock it behind us.

It was mid-summer, and the sun hadn't set yet.

I gestured to the big four-door black truck in the middle of the parking lot. “I drive that truck.”

A hesitant look crossed Amantha's face. “Maybe we should take my car.” She gestured to the blue car sitting near the door.

I frowned. “Why?” It was a newer truck. There was no rust. There wasn't even mud on it. What was the problem?

“Even without my ankle injury, I'm short. I don't know if I can climb in there.”

Oh. I laughed. “Don't worry. Head over there.”

Amantha gave me a skeptical look but wheeled across the parking lot.

I opened the passenger door as she positioned her chair to climb out. She locked the wheels.

Amantha looked at the running boards and the higher seat. “I don't know about this,” she said.

I smiled. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“I really don't think I can cli...”

I scooped her into my arms and lifted her into the passenger seat.

Damn, she smelled good. I inhaled her berry scent.

Her mouth fell open, and she gaped at me as I settled her into the passenger seat. I guess lifting her was a surprise.

I winked and said, “I told you to trust me.” I slid my arms from around her. “Put your seatbelt on.”

I closed the door and turned to her wheelchair. I'd never done this before so I'd have to figure it out. After a minute of fiddling with it, I finally got the chair folded and loaded into the back of my truck.

I rounded the truck to the driver's side and climbed into the driver's seat.

My eyes trailed over her. She looked right in my truck. “You good?” I asked.

She smiled softly. “Yeah.”

I put on my seatbelt and checked that she wore hers, then I started the engine. Quickly, I turned the volume down when music blasted from the stereo. “Sorry.” I shot her an apologetic look. “What do you feel like eating?”

Adjusting my focus to our surroundings, I shifted the truck to drive and steered out of the parking lot.

”Chinese?” she asked.

I nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

I pulled onto the main road.

“Were you at physical therapy last night?” I asked.

“Nice guess. I was. I found a therapist that does evening appointments so I can work during the day and attend therapy afterward. Twice a week.”

I nodded. “Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

“Yes. I need the days in between to recover.” She laughed. “It's really helped to keep a positive attitude with everything that's happened. I've tried to keep life relatively the same.”

“Have you succeeded?”

“I think so. I attend concerts and go where I want. Not much is different.”

A grin crossed my face. I had to tease her. “Is this going to impact your skydiving?”

She chuckled. “You're not winning the bet.”

“Don't count me out. I have two weeks. I'm winning.”

“You can try. Good luck. You'll need it,” she teased back.

You can try. Did that mean her last name was complicated? “Is that a hint?”

She smiled. “You’ll get no hints from me.”