his sternum where she’d shaved him.
“What happened next?” Her voice rumbled against his skin, her breath fanning his chest. “You don’t have to tell me, but you sound like you want to talk about it.”
Did he? He had a shrink he used to see regularly, at least until he came to terms with his survivor’s guilt. He hadn’t sat in the chair for two months now. Everyone he’d told his story to had lost someone, and he’d glossed over the hardest part of it all. The living. Picking up his sorry ass and learning how to put one foot in front of the other.
“My life’s a damn cliché. We all wanted to be big rock stars, we left on a jet plane and went down in history as yet another promising band destroyed in a plane crash. The flight attendant and I ruin that story by actually surviving.”
“There was a flight attendant that lived?” Her surprise was understandable. He smoothed her hair out of her face and looked up at the ceiling.
“Yeah. I guess they kept him quiet or something, but he and I were care-flighted out of there together. I went into surgery when we landed. Everyone always talks about the crash and how terrible it is but I don’t remember it. For the most part, it’s a blur. There are moments that I remember, but I kept passing out from the pain, it’s all messed up. It’s everything that came after that sucks the worst. I felt bad for not dying with them. I’d wake up and forget the guys were gone. The worst was in the beginning when I woke up and didn’t remember I couldn’t walk.”
“You couldn’t walk?”
“Nope.” He stroked her back, reminding himself it was history. “They said I wasn’t going to be able to walk again. I should get ready to live the rest of my life in a wheelchair. For a while I was depressed, a complete wreck. They had me on 24/7 monitoring. I couldn’t sneeze without someone coming into my room and offering to wipe my damn nose.”
Pandora propped her chin up and watched him. “But you walk and, um, use your legs fine.”
“I can’t jump. Running is out of the question, but I can walk.” He smiled, each painful moment spent in therapy still raw. His parents and the people at the hospital had been hypervigilant about his privacy. There were very few people who knew the extent of his recovery. “Would you mind not telling anyone this stuff?”
She rested her chin on his shoulder and smiled. “Consider it client-privileged information.”
“I bet you hear all kinds of crazy shit.”
Pandora laughed. “You wouldn’t believe the stuff people tell me. I won’t tell anyone.”
“That’s cool.” He ran his fingers through her hair, content, which was a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He glanced at the bedside table where his wallet sat. “Can I tell you something and you not freak out?”
She tipped her head back and looked up at him, her brow furrowed in a puzzled expression. “I don’t know.”
He was going to do it regardless. Since he couldn’t retrieve the wallet with his nonexistent Jedi mind powers, he let go of Pandora and snagged the folded duct tape creation. “I always thought you were cute, when I first met you. I don’t know if you remember this or not, but you were behind that shitty desk and answering the phone. You kept drawing these little flowers over and over and over again.”
It felt as if he were revealing an even more private part of him as he took the tiny scrap of laminated paper out of his wallet and held it up. Pandora reached for it and he had to force himself to hold still and allow her to examine it closer.
She chuckled and propped herself up on an elbow, turning the paper over and over again. “Shit. I was supposed to be practicing lotus flowers and I couldn’t get it right. I think I drew a thousand of these, easy.”
He released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Yeah, and I wouldn’t leave you alone.”
“You asked for my autograph. I can’t believe you still
“What happened next?” Her voice rumbled against his skin, her breath fanning his chest. “You don’t have to tell me, but you sound like you want to talk about it.”
Did he? He had a shrink he used to see regularly, at least until he came to terms with his survivor’s guilt. He hadn’t sat in the chair for two months now. Everyone he’d told his story to had lost someone, and he’d glossed over the hardest part of it all. The living. Picking up his sorry ass and learning how to put one foot in front of the other.
“My life’s a damn cliché. We all wanted to be big rock stars, we left on a jet plane and went down in history as yet another promising band destroyed in a plane crash. The flight attendant and I ruin that story by actually surviving.”
“There was a flight attendant that lived?” Her surprise was understandable. He smoothed her hair out of her face and looked up at the ceiling.
“Yeah. I guess they kept him quiet or something, but he and I were care-flighted out of there together. I went into surgery when we landed. Everyone always talks about the crash and how terrible it is but I don’t remember it. For the most part, it’s a blur. There are moments that I remember, but I kept passing out from the pain, it’s all messed up. It’s everything that came after that sucks the worst. I felt bad for not dying with them. I’d wake up and forget the guys were gone. The worst was in the beginning when I woke up and didn’t remember I couldn’t walk.”
“You couldn’t walk?”
“Nope.” He stroked her back, reminding himself it was history. “They said I wasn’t going to be able to walk again. I should get ready to live the rest of my life in a wheelchair. For a while I was depressed, a complete wreck. They had me on 24/7 monitoring. I couldn’t sneeze without someone coming into my room and offering to wipe my damn nose.”
Pandora propped her chin up and watched him. “But you walk and, um, use your legs fine.”
“I can’t jump. Running is out of the question, but I can walk.” He smiled, each painful moment spent in therapy still raw. His parents and the people at the hospital had been hypervigilant about his privacy. There were very few people who knew the extent of his recovery. “Would you mind not telling anyone this stuff?”
She rested her chin on his shoulder and smiled. “Consider it client-privileged information.”
“I bet you hear all kinds of crazy shit.”
Pandora laughed. “You wouldn’t believe the stuff people tell me. I won’t tell anyone.”
“That’s cool.” He ran his fingers through her hair, content, which was a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He glanced at the bedside table where his wallet sat. “Can I tell you something and you not freak out?”
She tipped her head back and looked up at him, her brow furrowed in a puzzled expression. “I don’t know.”
He was going to do it regardless. Since he couldn’t retrieve the wallet with his nonexistent Jedi mind powers, he let go of Pandora and snagged the folded duct tape creation. “I always thought you were cute, when I first met you. I don’t know if you remember this or not, but you were behind that shitty desk and answering the phone. You kept drawing these little flowers over and over and over again.”
It felt as if he were revealing an even more private part of him as he took the tiny scrap of laminated paper out of his wallet and held it up. Pandora reached for it and he had to force himself to hold still and allow her to examine it closer.
She chuckled and propped herself up on an elbow, turning the paper over and over again. “Shit. I was supposed to be practicing lotus flowers and I couldn’t get it right. I think I drew a thousand of these, easy.”
He released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Yeah, and I wouldn’t leave you alone.”
“You asked for my autograph. I can’t believe you still
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