Fighting Our Way (Broken Tracks Series Book 2)

by Abigail Davies

  “Ready to get some more muscle strength?” Traci asks, stopping in front of me and signaling for me to lean forward.

  Lifting my arms, I put all my energy into it as I brace my core, but ultimately, Traci has to place her hand on my stomach and back to help lift my legs.

  “Six lengths?” I ask.

  “Let’s aim for four, and if you’re still feeling good, we’ll do another two, okay?”

  I nod even though in my mind I know I’m going to do six. The more strength I gain, the better. I don’t care if it means I’ll probably have a four-hour nap afterward, all that matters is my legs are being used.

  Slicing my hand through the water, I start on a slow stroke as Traci wades beside me, moving my legs to mimic swimming. I can feel the movement in my stomach, but anything below that may as well not be there.

  I manage to get to five lengths before my body starts to give in, but I grit my teeth, pushing through it even as Traci says, “That’s enough for today, Amelia.”

  “No, it’s not,” I grind out, needing to do this. I’ve set my mind to it and I have to finish. “Just one more,” I practically plead, but she lets my legs go, placing her hands on my stomach as she pulls me over to the chair.

  “You’re trying to run before you can walk.” Her gaze meets mine, and I see the stern warning in them, but I ignore it.

  “I’m not, I need to get my stren—”

  “No.” She slices her hand through the air once I’m sitting back in the seat. “You’re working too quickly. You’ll do more harm than good.”

  “I won’t—”

  “You will.” She steps out of the water, standing above me at the side of the pool as she presses the button from the control panel above. “You’ve done five lengths today, that’s above and beyond what I would expect at this stage. You’re flying through the program.”

  The water sways over me, causing a small wave as the chair comes out of the water and stops next to my chair I move myself over into. My arms ache more than they ever have before, and even though I know she’s right—I shouldn’t do the last length—it doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.

  “I’m not making the progress I need to,” I tell her, spinning my chair around and wheeling into the small changing room. “I won’t be making the progress I want until I can walk.”

  “Amelia—”

  Lifting my hand in a wave, I say, “I’ll see you on Friday.”

  I hear her huff out a breath, her feet padding closer to me. “You want to up the intensity in therapy?” she asks, following me inside the changing room. “Then you need to listen to me. When I say enough, it means enough. That’s the only way I’ll do this. If you listen to everything I tell you, I’ll try and do everything I can to help.”

  “I will,” I say, swallowing against the dryness in my throat. “I’ll listen to you, as long as you up the intensity. I need to be ready for if I ever get the feeling back in my legs.”

  “When.” She dries her body off, placing her tracksuit over the top of her still damp swimsuit.

  “Huh?”

  “When you get the feeling back.”

  “Honey, I’m home!” I call into the house in my usual greeting.

  It’s been a long day at work and I can’t wait for what I have planned for tonight.

  When I don’t get an answer, I frown, placing the bag of groceries I’m holding on the side unit and walk along the hallway.

  “Hello?”

  “That’s it, half a length to go. Keep pushing.” I hear Traci’s familiar voice say.

  I look down at my watch seeing it’s way past Amelia’s therapy session time and step into the pool room, watching as a red-faced Amelia reaches the end of the pool.

  “One more length?” she asks out of breath but with a determined look on her face.

  “Not today.” Traci shakes her head, and surprisingly, Amelia nods.

  I’ve wanted to sit and watch her progress for months, but every time I try, she tells me to leave. I always do as she says when it comes to her therapy but it’s frustrating because she hardly says a word about how she’s getting on apart from “fine.”

  She’s been having a lot more sessions lately than she used to which I suspect is normal at this stage, after all it has been five and a half months since she first started her physiotherapy. With her having so many sessions I was hoping there would be a change in her condition, but there’s been no major improvements as of yet.

  Traci keeps her hands on Amelia’s thighs as they move over to the chair in the pool, making sure Amelia is situated before climbing out herself. When the chair is fully out of the water and Amelia has maneuvered herself back into her wheelchair, Traci notices me standing here.

  “Hi, Nate.”

  Amelia’s head turns toward me and she smiles wide. “What’re you doing home early? I thought you were working late?”

  I wait for her to come over to me, placing a kiss on her lips and shrugging. “I had better things to do.”

  “Is that so?” she asks, raising a brow as I grab her a towel off the shelves beside us. She takes it from me, wrapping it around her upper body.

  “Apparently it’s a special day today.”

  Her face screws up in thought. “It is?”

  I chuckle and kiss the top of her head. “I’m going to grab a shower then start dinner.” I look behind her, seeing Traci has disappeared. “Tell Traci I said bye.”

  “Nate! What day is it?” Laughter tumbles out of me at her insistent voice. “I hate when you do this!”

  The truth is: I love that she hates surprises. I love that her nose screws up when I don’t tell her something right away and I love that when she finally finds out, her face lights up and just from that one expression, I know she’s enjoyed having one even if she doesn’t realize it at the time.

  I shower and slip into a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a navy-blue t-shirt before picking up the grocery bag I left on the living room unit and walking into the kitchen to start preparing dinner: a quick chicken alfredo.

  With the smell of cream cheese in the air, my belly rumbles. It’s been nonstop at work since I went back almost a month ago. Even though I kept up with the goings on from home, there’s a lot I missed out on and I’m only now catching up and getting back into a routine.

  I grab myself a beer and pour a bottle of water into a glass for Amelia.

  After setting the table, I hear Amelia’s chair coming toward the kitchen and turn to see her entering. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, she’s wearing sweatpants like I am, and there isn’t a trace of makeup on her face, yet she’s never looked more beautiful than she does right now.

  “What?” She ducks her head as I continue to stare at her.

  I chuckle while walking over and bending at the knees so I’m level with her. I cup my hand under her chin and lift gently, my thumb brushing across her jaw. “I was just thinking I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

  A flush creeps into her cheeks and her eyes bore holes into mine. “No, I’m definitely the lucky one.”

  I lean toward her and she closes the distance between us, pressing her lips against mine without hesitation. I deepen the kiss and she wraps her arms around my shoulders, fisting the back of my hair in her hands.

  A growl leaves my throat; it’s been far too long since I’ve been able to explore every inch of her, but she pulls away all too soon for my liking.

  I stand up and her gaze flicks down to the tent in my sweatpants before connecting her eyes back to mine with a raised brow.

  I shrug as I walk toward the stove. “Can’t help it, you’re a tease.”

  “I am not a tease,” she scoffs.

  Taking the pot off and dishing up, she takes her place at the table as I laugh softly. “Oh, you really are.”

  I set her plate in front of her and she licks her lips. “This smells amazing.”

  We tuck into our meals and I can’t help watching her as she talks animatedly, it’s almost as if
she’s back to the Amelia she was before the accident. She’s changed ever since her parents came and we got the news about Phoebe. It’s like a weight was lifted off her shoulders and she’s looking forward to the future instead of living in the past.

  The word “future” has those nervous feelings and doubts I’ve had floating around my head coming back, but I quash them down, trying not to think about the ring still sitting in the closet. I’ve been waiting for the “right time,” but no time ever seems “right.”

  But until then, I have something else I can give her.

  She leans back in her wheelchair and blows out a breath. “That was incredible, I’m so stuffed.”

  “I’m glad you liked it,” I reply, taking our plates over to the sink and pulling the silver-wrapped box out of the draw by the refrigerator and walking over to her. “I think I’ve kept you in enough suspense.”

  She reaches out and takes the rectangular box from my hands, her gaze moving from the box to me and back. “But… my birthday isn’t for another two weeks.”

  I chuckle and sit back down. “I know.” She looks back up at me and I shoot her a smile. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  Her mouth drops open as she takes the top off the box. “Nate… it’s beautiful.”

  I reach over and take the delicate droplet necklace out of her hands and undo the clasp, walking behind her and tying it around her neck. “Maya helped me pick it out.” Her hand clasps it before she frowns. “If you don’t like it I can take it back and you can choose something else.”

  She shakes her head gently. “No, no, it’s not that. The necklace is beautiful, I just wish you would have reminded me it was Valentine's Day. I would’ve gotten you something.”

  If only she knew what she’s given me.

  “You’ve already given me everything I need.”

  She’s silent as her fingers brush over the necklace again. “I don’t want you getting me anything for my birthday, you’ve already done so much for me.”

  “I do things for you because I want to, not because I have to.”

  She looks down at her hands. “I just feel like such a burden at times. I’m not paying for bills or for groceries, you cook practically all the meals and pay for a cleaner to take care of the house—”

  “Because I want to. What do you think I was doing before you came along?” I raise a brow. “I’d be paying for groceries, bills, and a cleaner anyway. You just make it more worthwhile now.” I kiss her knuckles. “And if you think I’m not getting you anything for your birthday, you’re sorely mistaken.”

  She starts to wheel toward the living room and I follow after her, taking my beer with me. “I’m not sure I want to celebrate this year.”

  I place my beer down on the side table and get comfy on the sofa, watching as she hauls herself up beside me. “Don’t do the whole Christmas thing again.”

  “No, it’s not that, it’s just not that big of a deal. I’m only turning twenty-five.”

  “You only turn twenty-five once.”

  She picks up the remote and turns on Netflix, snuggling under the arm I hold up for her. “You only turn any age once. What do you want to watch?” I shrug and she starts flicking through the movies.

  “I know you do but… it’s your birthday.”

  “It’s just not an important one, okay?”

  “So… what you’re saying is I should cancel the big rave I have planned?” I joke. She snaps her head toward me and I concede. “Okay, no rave. But what about having a few people over? Tris and his brood, my parents, Maya?”

  She sighs. “If we must, but nothing fancy. And I’m telling people they can’t buy me presents.” She clicks play on “The Lucky One” and I groan. “You shrugged, you can’t moan when I put on what I want to watch. Plus… Zac Efron.”

  I feign hurt. “I can’t believe you just said that. I’m buying you a giant pony for your birthday and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  She slaps my leg gently while chuckling. “You’re a loser.”

  I wrap her up in a tight hug. “And you’re perfect.”

  She pushes me away a little so she can cup her hand around my jaw. “This is perfect.”

  I turn my head, kissing her palm. “Yeah, yeah it is.”

  I spread my arms wide, staring up at the wooden beams on the ceiling, tracking the grains on the wood as I do. I’ve been lying here for over an hour, but I can’t bring myself to call for help. It’s peaceful here: no noise, just me and the wooden floor.

  Today is the day I turn a quarter of a century—twenty-five. Shaking my head, I almost can’t believe all that’s happened in my short life, but no matter how bad things have been, I wouldn’t change any of them because they all got me to this point: on Nate’s floor, my wheelchair across the room and me not being able to reach it.

  Footsteps reverberate through the hardwood floor, signaling Nate coming into the living room from outside where he’s been setting up for a cookout—much like we had for Izzie’s birthday, only there won’t be any princesses and princes at this party.

  “I’ve nearly—” Nate comes to a stop next to me, his hands hanging loosely off his hips as he stares at me with wide eyes. “What are you doing?"

  I try my best to shrug, but it’s awkward from where I’m lying. “Oh you know, just hanging."

  He quirks a brow, his lips twisting into a smirk. “You can’t get to your chair, can you?"

  I sigh. "Nope, it wheeled off on its own."

  His shadow moves from above me as I make circles with the tip of my finger on the hardwood floor.

  “Why didn't you shout for me?" he asks as he wheels my chair over to me, crouching down and holding out his hand to help me up.

  “I liked it down there.” I push up, letting Nate help me onto the chair before the doorbell rings.

  “No, seriously,” he continues when I move toward the door to answer it. “Why didn’t you call?”

  I reach my hand out to open the door, moving my gaze back to him as I say, “Figured you’d find me eventually.”

  Shaking his head, he smiles softly at me before I pull the door open revealing an excited Izzie who jumps right at Nate. Clay walks in with his head down as he makes his way to the sofa in the living room.

  “Don’t mind him, he’s always reading,” Harmony says, then shakes her head. “I don’t know why I said that, you know him better than I do at this stage.”

  I chuckle softly, waving my hand at her to come closer, baby Frankie resting on her hip. “Let me have a cuddle.”

  She smiles wide, lowering him into my arms, his wide green-blue eyes stare at me before he babbles, his arms waving about and his hands clutching onto my hair.

  “Happy birthday, A.” I look up at Tris as he leans down, placing a kiss on my forehead before shutting the door behind him. It’s then I realize I’m still in the doorway, everyone else having moved to the kitchen apart from Clay who is curled up in the corner of the sofa.

  “Hey.” I tilt my head down to Frankie. “How’s the sleepless nights going?”

  “He’s been pretty good as long as he’s snuggled up with me or Harm.” Tris crouches down in front of me, his gaze batting over to Clay. “I know it’s your birthday.” His throat bobs as he swallows. “But... do you think you could talk to Clay?”

  I frown, looking over at Clay, seeing his gaze bat away from me suddenly, his head lowering. “Why, what’s—” I cut myself off as I realize I haven’t talked to him properly since before I moved out. Pangs of regret flow through me at the speed of a hurricane. Why have I only just realized this now?

  Clearing my throat as he comes to stand behind me, pushing me forward, I say, “Of course.”

  Tris leans down and takes Frankie out of my arms when he comes to a stop next to the sofa, whispering, “Thank you,” before wandering off through the kitchen where I can hear everyone else talking.

  I stay silent for several minutes, giving Clay some time, and when his page doesn’t turn when I k
now it would have by now, I venture forward.

  “Good book?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He doesn’t turn to look at me even though I’m desperate for him to. I’m shouting at myself in my head. Why didn’t I notice this at Christmas? It’s been months since then, and yet it hadn’t crossed my mind once. For six years I was one of the main people in his life and I up and left.

  “Clay?” He ignores me this time, and I know it’ll take more than one conversation to fix what I broke between us. But now I’m aware of it, I’ll do everything in my power to fix it. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice breaking.

  His gray eyes finally meet my gaze, and when I see the sadness and heartbreak shining in them, I wish for the first time in months to be able to jump out of this chair and pull him to me. But I can’t. I can’t stand up and be the person I used to be.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say again, hoping like hell he believes me.

  “You left,” he deadpans, not giving anything else away as he closes his book and lays it on his lap, flipping the edge of it back and forth with his fingers.

  “I know.” I push back the tears stinging my eyes, knowing I need to pull up my big girl panties. “I should have told you I wouldn’t be back at all, but I… I was trying…”

  “Dad already told me you were trying to protect us.”

  I swallow against the lump in my throat, hating that I’ve broken his heart. Out of everyone, he’s the one person I never wanted to disappoint or let down. Yet I did. I did what I always promised I wouldn’t.

  “I’m really sorry, Clay. I was doing what I thought was best. I love you so much and couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt—”

  “You did hurt me!” he shouts, standing up and throwing his book down on the sofa. Tears escape his eyes, trailing down his cheeks as he stands so tense I’m almost afraid he’s going to hurt himself.

  Holding my arms out, I beg him, “Come here.”

  “No,” he grinds out, sounding so much like his dad it’s scary. His voice breaks, a sob bubbling up as he whispers, “You wouldn’t let me come visit in the hospital.”

  The tears I’ve tried to keep at bay stream out of me like a waterfall: unstoppable. “I should’ve let you,” I admit, putting myself in his position. He may have been young when his mom went into the hospital, but he knows she went in and never came back out again.