A Heart to Heal

“A what?”

“Aw, come on—you think I can’t tell? Someone has a thought, usually to do with my paralysis, that they think is totally awful and cruel, usually because it is, and their face goes all screwy like yours just did. I call them ‘cripple thoughts,’ because that’s the most offensive word for what I am.”

She felt horrendously exposed. Guilty and trapped. What on earth was she supposed to do? Why did Max feel as if he had to shove the awkwardness in everyone’s face like this?

“Look, just get over it, okay? It’s easier if you admit this is weird. I hate tiptoeing around the issue. You had a cripple thought. It’s gonna happen. I’m used to it. I can see it a mile off.”

Heather launched up off the wall. “Why do you do that? It was a terrible thing to think and I’m already ashamed of myself, so why are you making me feel so bad about it when you were just so incredibly nice to Simon?”

Max spun around to follow her. “There. See? You can yell at me for being a jerk just like any other guy. Glad we got that out of the way.”

She turned to look at him. “You’re awful—you know that?” But, she had to admit, the tension had just evaporated. Crude as it was, he was breaking down her misconceptions about him one at a time. Ten minutes ago she would not have felt free to tell him he was awful. He’d sensed her pity even before she had, and he’d called her on it because he didn’t want pity from her. Or anyone.

“Awful is a personal specialty. Just don’t sugarcoat things for me on account of my wheels, okay? I can take just about anything but that.” He motioned to the wall again, silently asking her to sit down so they could be eye to eye again. Heather was coming to realize how important that courtesy was to him.

“So,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “how about we start that part over?”

Heather cleared her throat. She would do as he asked; she would treat him as she would treat any other person who had just done something incredibly nice for Simon. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee and a slice of pie at Karl’s to show my appreciation?”

It was fun to be the one surprising him for once. He wasn’t expecting that. “Celebrate our little victory over helicopter dad?”

Heather rolled her eyes. “When you put it that way...”

“No. I mean, I won’t put it that way. Which means yes. Yes to coffee. If you’re buying.”

“I am.”

“Only if I drive.”

How had she known there’d be a catch to his yes? “You drive?”

“Yep. If you’re willing to ride in the flaming toaster, I’ll know you really mean it.”

“Is everything a test with you?”

There was that glint again. “Only the good stuff.”

She might regret this. “I’ll go get my handbag—since I’m paying and all.” She walked toward the door, then turned around again. “The flaming toaster?”

“JJ’s name. Fits.”

She didn’t know what to say. I feel that a lot around you, she thought as she pulled the door open and went inside.

* * *

Max punched JJ’s number into his cell phone the minute the school door shut behind Heather.

“Hi there,” she answered. “I just put the steaks into the marinade.”

“I might not make dinner. I don’t have a ton of time to talk, but I’m heading out for coffee with Heather Browning.”

Silence greeted his news.

“Look, we can have dinner tomorrow night, right?”

Another long pause. “Max, don’t.”

Oh, she was a master of the big-sister tone of conviction. “What?”

“You promised me you wouldn’t get personal with Heather. She’s a friend. You were helping her out. Now you’re going to go all Max on her, aren’t you?” Max could practically hear her stabbing the steaks with a sharp fork over the phone.

“I’m not doing anything. She invited me out for coffee. A friendly celebration over something good that happened with Simon.”

“You don’t know how to do friendly, Max. Please don’t get into this with Heather.”

Now she was getting annoying. “Get into what, exactly?” Sure, Max had left a long line of broken hearts in his wake before his accident, but he hadn’t exactly boasted a stuffed social calendar since. “So now that I’m in a wheelchair, the entire female gender is off-limits?”

“You can date anyone you like, Max, as long as it’s not Heather.”

“Who said I was even dating Heather? Or planning to date her? Jumping to a few conclusions, aren’t you?” Max kept one eye on the door. “You’re out of line here, JJ.”

There was a pause on her end of the line. “I just don’t want you...well...you know.”

“Wow. Your confidence in me staggers the mind. It’s pie and coffee at Karl’s, for crying out loud. And she asked. Give me a little credit here.”

“Credit or not, you’re still blowing Alex and me off for dinner. We’ve been planning this for two weeks.”

She was right about that much. Between her shifts at the firehouse and Alex’s schedule, getting together was proving nearly impossible lately. “What if I came by at seven—would that work?”

“Yes. I’d like that.” After a moment she added, “I miss you, Max. I used to see you all the time and now—”

“Hey. We’re still Max and JJ. Besides, you’ve got that spiffy new groom to keep you occupied.”

“That spiffy new groom also happens to be your boss. Have you considered you were just trying to ditch your boss, too?”

“I’m trying to help a kid out, JJ. That’s all this is.”

“Look, I just want you to steer clear of Heather in the date department. You know your track record. She’s a friend. This could get all kinds of weird, you know?”

It bugged Max that his own sister thought of him as toxic in the boyfriend department. Sure, he wasn’t a master of solid relationships, and all her cautiousness hinted at a seriously painful past, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a decent human being over a slice of pie. “It’s just coffee, JJ. I gotta go.”

“Be nice, Max. Nice? Do you remember how?”

Chapter Six (#ulink_12d6a495-b78d-5d35-b00b-9c8adf35f1e0)

Max hit the remote-control button that slowly opened the double doors on his adapted Honda Element. Heather was surprised to see the pair of doors open from the middle like French doors, but it made sense given the large opening they formed.

“Ta-da!” Max imitated a trumpet fanfare as if the gates to his castle were being raised. He was always cracking jokes. Max was like a kid that way—ramping up the wisecracks when he was nervous or uncomfortable. The mechanized ramp unfolded, making the drawbridge metaphor a little more apt, and Max waved her on board with a grandiose gesture. “Ladies first. You get to ride like I’m your chauffeur this time. I can put in the passenger seat with a little more notice, but right now my chair goes there. Although I’ll warn you, it’s not the cleanest car in the world. Just shove everything over on the backseat and make room for yourself.”