By Your Side(58)

“Go stand at the end of the hall.”

“What?”

“Walk to the end of the hall and wait there.” He shooed us away with a wave of his hand.

Lisa and I both followed his directions, walking until we were about forty feet away, then turning to face him. His mom moved behind his wheelchair and pointed it in our direction. He bent down and lifted the footrests, then stood.

“You’re not going to tell him about Dax now, are you?” Lisa asked under her breath.

“Not on your life.”

Lisa gave me a sympathetic smile and then turned back to Jeff. “That’s so amazing.”

“Wait for it,” he called. Then he walked several unsure steps in our direction. Steps that made me want to rush forward and take his arm so he didn’t fall. But I noticed his mom hovering off to the left of him, there to assist if he needed it, so I held my ground. He made it all the way to us, then wrapped me up in a hug, leaning a little against me for support.

I patted his back. “I’m so proud of you.” And I was. So proud. I needed to be there for him as he finished out his recovery. Me telling him I was unsure of where we stood or how I felt wouldn’t be helpful right now. That could wait. Or maybe I’d figure out my feelings and realize Jeff and I were meant to be.

In the time it took for the hug, his mom had already positioned the wheelchair behind him and I helped him sit down. He was beaming.

“Can the girls take me for a walk around the hospital, Mom?” he asked.

“Of course. Be good,” she said, pointing her finger at him like she knew the kind of trouble Jeff could get into.

He just smiled up at her in innocence. “I’m always good, Mom.”





CHAPTER 39


“Okay, Autumn, sit on my lap, and Lisa, push the wheelchair as hard as you can,” Jeff said.

We were outside of the hospital now. It had stopped snowing and we’d pushed Jeff and his chair up the sidewalk to a park the hospital built. He had decided the sidewalk was just wide enough and had just the right amount of decline that it would create the perfect speed ramp.

I pointed at the swings in the play equipment. “Wouldn’t you rather try that out? It’s especially built for wheelchairs.”

“Are you chicken, Autumn?”

“Yes, actually. That pole down there looks like it would be very painful to crash my head into.”

He positioned his wheelchair. “I’m going with or without you so you might as well protect me.”

“With my body?”

“I won’t let you get hurt.”

There were so many things wrong with this scenario, the least of which was climbing onto a recovering patient’s lap. Lisa held her tongue during the whole exchange and when I looked at her for help she seemed to sense my discomfort and said, “I’ll try first so we can see if it’s safe.”

“Nope, me and Autumn first.”

Lisa widened her eyes at me, almost like telling me to say no.

I opened my mouth to do just that but then made the mistake of looking at Jeff’s hopeful face and said, “Fine.”

Jeff patted his lap with both his hands.

I put one hand on the armrest. “I feel like I’m going to hurt you. Are your legs in pain?”

“No. My legs are uninjured. You will not hurt me.”

I took a deep breath and climbed on his lap.

“Ouch.” He sucked a breath between his teeth.

I jumped off but he caught my wrist with a laugh. “I’m just kidding,” he said. “Sit down.”

My heart was in my throat, and it had been so long since I’d been a part of one of Jeff’s “adventures” that I’d forgotten this was how I always felt during them—on the verge of panic.

I sat anyway, putting one arm around his shoulder and my other awkwardly propped behind me, holding on to the armrest. Beads of sweat were forming along my upper lip as I imagined careening off the sidewalk and re-injuring Jeff all over again. His mom was going to kill me.

He reached down to the right, undoing the wheel lock. “Okay, Lisa, give us a shove.”

She reached for the handles and gave me one last look as if asking me if I really wanted to do this. I closed my eyes and nodded. I felt the wheelchair lurch forward. Then I opened my eyes so I could see if at any point I would need to jump off. “You’re dead to me,” I mumbled to Jeff.

He just wrapped an arm around my waist and laughed.

When we started to pick up speed Jeff’s laugh tapered off into a nervous chuckle. That didn’t help my already active imagining of how this would end. As if on cue, we reached the flat section of the sidewalk and hit a bump that made the wheelchair catch a half second of air. We landed, our heads smashing together. The chair finally stopped when it hit a patch of grass at the very edge of the sidewalk.

“Are you okay?” I asked, jumping off his lap and examining his head where mine had collided against it.

“I’m fine. I have a hard head.”

My temple throbbed but I resisted the urge to reach up and rub it. I hoped it didn’t bruise or swell. I must have succeeded in playing it off because he didn’t ask if I was hurt.

Lisa came running down after us. “Are you okay?” she asked. I thought she was looking at Jeff, but she was asking me.