“Still a smart-ass. Aren’t you getting too old for that?” The tightness in my chest eased with the playful back and forth. Until my gaze fell to Lana’s atrophied, lifeless legs.
Once-thick thighs, heavy with powerful muscles, now laid narrow and almost flat. The jeans that fit snug to her hips laid baggy over legs that would never work again.
“I’m taking notes from Patti’s playbook so…never. Besides, you love it and you know it. All the ladies around you saying whatever pops into their heads while you get to be all superior and above that shit.” She rolled back until her wheels lined up to the ramp leading into the cottage and waited for me to follow along.
I forced the lump of guilt back with a hard swallow. “That shit? You mean emotional outbursts?”
Her lips quirked with amusement, her rosy cheeks mocking me as her mouth slid into a full grin. “I mean being human.”
“Hey, I’m human.” The acid churning in my gut was a sure sign.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re repressed.”
“So you’re a therapist now?”
Lifting her chin and her eyes wide, she pierced me with a determined look I recognized. “Almost.”
I cocked my head and waited for her to burst out laughing, but nope. “Wait, seriously?”
“Seriously. Come on, Coach. I’ve got fresh coffee, and you and I have some catching up to do.”
I followed her up the ramp, making sure the wood had been completely cleared of snow like I’d hired Powell Landscaping to do over the winter. I paid them well to make sure Lana could move freely around the property and all along the pathways around and through Bay Park, all the way to the library, and the bus stop. Sure, the town cleaned up the roads and sidewalks, but they did under the assumption that people would be navigating them by car or on foot.
Lana wouldn’t be doing either.
Never again.
And maneuvering with an electric wheelchair through the unpredictable coastal snow and ice was precarious at best.
Normally Lilith drove through and scoped this out for me, but a bit of the crushing guilt filling my chest relaxed seeing it with my own eyes.
Lana rolled through the door with ease, no slowing down to make sure she didn’t scuff the edges.
“You got a new chair. Slides right through. Nice.”
Lana snorted and stopped short, tossed me a look over her shoulder, and rolled her eyes again like she used to all time from her position on the track a decade ago. “Please, like you didn’t know I got a new chair.”
“How would I know?”
“Because you bought it, Moneybags.”
“Wasn’t me.” I followed her into the customized kitchen with low granite countertops and modified appliances, everything designed with her independent living in mind. The builders had made every single surface reachable and usable for her, and judging by the onions, fresh garlic, and root veggies in wire racks along the wall, she didn’t leave it just for show.
She was making the best of her life now which should make me happy, if only it didn’t come with a swift punch of how unfair it was that she even had to.
She rolled to the fridge and pulled out heavy cream while I jammed my hands in my pockets and fought the urge to jump in and help. A totally unfamiliar sensation for me, because if this was derby and I were coaching, I wouldn’t be trying to take over anything. I’d be putting each player through their paces, making them do it on their own, over and over, pain and frustration layered over more pain and frustration until they figured it out.
They called me Coach Hard-Ass behind my back and they were right. I wasn’t their friend. I didn’t want to hear about their bruises, exhaustion, or aches and pains. If it didn’t affect their ability to play, who cared? Anyone who took the track with skates on their feet had them.
As for the social shit and comradery? Shitty friends and turbulent love lives…they’d better fucking not go there.
She handed me a steaming cup just the way I like it. A splash of cream, no sugar. “You’re full of shit.”
“How the hell did you know it was me?” Not that it qualified me for the moneybags status she tossed my way. If anything, it left my savings a whole lot lighter, to a point I wasn’t exactly comfortable. But then, I didn’t deserve to be.
“You told me when you brought it up. You’re a bad actor, Coach. You’re not one for small talk. Grunts, judgment, and a wide-berth requirement are more your style. Just the fact that you mentioned it told me you felt awkward about it. So you figured if you bring it up, you can deflect the attention and credit. Not exactly complex.”
“So what I’m getting is that I’m an unapproachable, predictable prick headed for permanent hermit status. I don’t think I like this new degree you’re earning.”
“I’m sure you don’t. Now come here.” She crooked her finger at me, one of the very few people in this world who could without earning permanent disdain.
I leaned down, the fact that she had to ask me to a painful reminder of the damage I could do.
Pinching my sweatshirt, she tugged me in close, and pressed a kiss on my cheek. “Thank you, you crusty asshole. I love it.”
“You’re welcome.”
With a firm shove of her fingertips on my forehead, she pushed me away. “Now stop buying me shit.”
“Never.”
“I googled the price and almost pooped.”
Sinking into the couch next to her, I rested my elbows on my knees and breathed in the coffee before taking my first sip. “Patti has everyone talking about shit in this town.”
“Patti is the best damn influence on us all. Leave her alone. Too bad I can’t get my parents in Banked Track to soak up some of her wisdom.”
“They have a right to how they feel.”
“It’s been ten
