“What’s this guy’s deal?”
Whispering again, she said, “He was in an accident that lefthim paralyzed, and he doesn’t want to live anymore.”
“Why not? The guy’s rich, he’s got parents who love him, acute girlfriend—”
“Shhh.” She patted him as thoughshe were soothing a child. Then, in a dreamlike voice, she said, “He used to bethis buff, active stud, and now he can’t be that guy anymore. He doesn’t wantto live a life where his mind is the only part of him that functions. And heloves her, but it kills him not to be able to do anything about it.”
Kevin May’s glazed eyes popped into T.J.’s mind, shooting abright bolt through him. He calmed his breath. It’s a movie.
Now the scene switched to a breezy white room. So peaceful, so tranquil.
“Now what’s he doing?”
“He’s in Switzerland so he can check out on his own terms.Now shush. Here comes the really sad part.”
Moving Julia aside, T.J. lurched to his feet. She snappedher head up and met his eyes.
“I need more Jameson,” he stammered.
Turning abruptly, he marched to the bar, clutched theJameson bottle, and ducked into the kitchen, where he couldn’t hear the cryingand soft, sad speeches. His fingers tugged his hair.
It’sa movie, goddamn it! Movies aren’t real.
For some reason, his mind wouldn’t accept what he tried tofeed it, rebelling with its own line. He can’t be that buff, active stud anymore.
T.J. couldn’t remember when he began pacing, but by the timeJulia appeared in the doorway, wiping moisture from her cheeks, he was in fullstride.
She sniffled. “Are you upset?”
He rounded on her. “You liked that movie?” Add a chortle and asneer, and he sounded just like his dad. Another parallel he’d never seenbefore, and it made him recoil. Backoff, asshole.
Her mouth slackened, and a tear slid onto her lip. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Besides the fact that Sam Claflinand Stephen Peacocke are really hot? I don’t know.It’s a touching story. I mean, the guy had absolutely everything onesecond, and the next his world is—” Her hand shot to her mouth and covered it.“Oh shit. I should’ve realized … The accident.”
The“accident.” Lawyer-speak for assault on ice. Like it happened on its own, and Iwas standing there by chance.
He gaped at her. Words leapt through his brain like a colonyof elusive frogs, and he couldn’t snag any of them.
“T.J., I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking…” She paused for breath. “That guy you hit, he isn’t paralyzed. He’ll befine.”
Likethat makes it all better.
He bent his head and folded his arms around his ears. “Youdon’t know that! He’s still in the hospital!” It was the first time he’d saidit aloud. Hell, the first time he’d admitted it.
Heart jackhammering his ribcage, he leveled his gaze athers. “One second, one turn, one move,” he pinched his thumb and index fingertogether, “one infinitesimal deviation, and he’d be warming up on the ice rightnow.” Not lyingin a bed thinking about how the hell he’s going to walk again, much less skateor play hockey. And if T.J. couldn’t play hockeyagain? It was the one thing, the only thing, he’dever done well. Would everdo well. If he couldn’t play, it would be game over. Just like thedude in the movie.
Anguish rushed up from his gut, and like bile, it tastedacrid, filling his mouth with a bitterness he couldn’tchoke down. Alternately confusing and crushing. Inthat moment, he hadto tell someone, anyone, to let out this … this whatever the fuck it wascrashing down on him like a tsunami.
He searched Julia’s eyes, desperate for a lifeline, but shepulled him up short by stepping back and crossing her arms as if preparing tobroadside him. “Look, I’m sorry your life’s been fucked up lately. I’m evensorrier for what I’m about to say.”
He shook his head and sighed. “Julia, I know I’ve been ajerk.”
“Do you? Well, that’s good because it might help you withfuture girlfriends.”
Futuregirlfriends? What the fuck? “I’m sorry for what I said about themovie.” He braced himself—for what, he had no idea.
She looked down at her feet before her blue eyes shot backup to his. “T.J., when we first hooked up, it was fun. Nothingserious, nothing heavy. A lot of sexy times.But it feels like … it sort of stalled, and lately I’ve realized a few things.”
Before he could think beyond, “Where the fuck is she goingwith this?” she straightened her shoulders. “I had this planned differently. Iwas hoping to feed you a nice meal, talk over dinner in a calm, civilized way.”She drew in a sharp breath. “The real reason I asked you over tonight … Oh,hell. I’ll just come out and say it. I think we should stop seeing each other.”
His mouth swung open. “What?” He stared at her, incredulous.“Because of a goddamn movie?”
“This is not about the movie.”
“The trade, then. How did you find out anyway?” What the fuck is going onhere?
Lips pressed together, she bunched her eyebrows in a hardline that paralleled her mouth. “It’s not the trade either. No, I’m talking aboutthe fact that whenever I’ve even hintedat getting more intimate, you’ve reacted as if I asked you to assassinate thepresident.”
“Wait. What did I miss? We’ve been plenty intimate.Were you in a different bed from the one I was in?”
An eye-roll. Not a good sign. “I’m not talking aboutphysical intimacy, T.J. I’m talking about two people sharing more than a bed. Their hearts and dreams. Letting each other in. Knowing theother person better than they know themselves. Don’t get me wrong. Sex with youis good. Great!” The last word sounded as if she’d thrown it in to cover aleaking wound, akin to sticking on a Band-Aid and hoping it was enough. “Butother than sex, what’ve we got? And the sex … We don’tmake love. We fuck.”
Andwhat’s wrong with that? he refrained fromasking. Instead, he ventured, “But I take care of you in bed. I always makesure you orgasm first. Hell, multiple times.” Was this about being a selfishlover? Except he wasn’t. Suddenly, he felt like thedumb gigolo to her smart attorney self. Smart girls didn’t
