Objective appreciation, she told herself. An attractive man was an attractive man at any ageespecially one who kept himself in as good a shape as Michael Cutler.
Ow.
His son, Mike, Jr., pinched Jillians shoulder in a painful squeeze, jerking her from her wandering thoughts. I need to sit down, he whispered between gritted teeth. Now.
Of course. Jillian hid the blush warming her cheeks by helping Mike walk toward the chair. It was less embarrassment than guilt at being distracted from her job that had her sliding her shoulder beneath his arm and anchoring her hands at his waist to guide him to his seat. Mikes balance might not be rock steady yet, but he was doing the bulk of the work, moving as quickly as his clumsy legs would let him. Maybe something had seized up with a cramp.
Are you in pain? his father asked, instantly standing behind the wheelchair like a wall of black granite to keep it still while Mike turned and plopped onto the seat.
Im fine, Dad, Mike insisted, shrugging off his fathers hand while Jillian knelt down to adjust the foot rests and position his feet. She glanced up into the teens downturned expression. Just as she suspected. The only thing cramping was Mikes attitude.
His father must have sensed it, too. With a measured sigh, he moved away from the chair and turned to greet Troy. He shook the young mans hand. Staying out of trouble?
Yes, sir.
Hows your brother? Dex, isnt it?
Yeah. He made the honor roll last semester.
Good for him. Good that hes got a big brother like you in his corner. And your grandmother?
Working. Two jobs. Like always. I might be getting a job pretty soon, too. As soon as I get this thing all figured out. He spun his chair in a tight circle, proving that, physically, at any rate, he was closer to healing than Michaels son. Im trying to finish my GED, too, but the math sucks.
Michael inclined his head toward his son. Mikes pretty fair with numbers. Hes in geometry at William Chrisman this year. Maybe he can coach you.
Dad!
Troy shrugged off Mike, Jr.s, shut-up-and-dont-volunteer-me-for-anything reprimand, his own tone growing a little more subdued. Ill get it figured out.
I like hearing that. Good luck to you.
Thanks.
Jillian stayed down longer than necessary so that she wouldnt interrupt the man-to-man interchange that Troy got far too little of in his life. Even paralyzed below the waist and struggling to be the man in his family, Troy Anthony was still a big kid at heart. He beamed at the paternal approval in Captain Cutlers voice before wheeling over to Mikes side and thumping him on the arm. Hey, will you be back on Monday, bro?
Mike rolled his eyes, as if the Monday-Wednesday-Friday sessions hed been attending for the last month and a half since mid-February would go on forever and ever. I dunno.
Jillian said if enough of us got together, we could play some hoops. She says theres a whole wheelchair league in Kansas City.
Go, Troy. Jillian had hoped that pairing up her two youngest charges in therapy sessions would boost their mental outlooks as well as their physical training. With that upper body strength and the hands youve got, she observed, youd be a natural.
If anything, Mike grew even more sullen at her compliment. I told you I hate basketball.
Mike his father scolded.
But Troy was back in cant-touch-this form. He knew how to push Mikes buttons. You hate losing, too? He spun his chair toward the exit and took off. Last one to the machine buys the pop.
A beat of silence passed before Jillian coyly prodded Mike. Didnt you buy the sodas last time?
Hey! With a sudden burst of movement, Mike raced after the other teen, his hands gliding along the wheels of his chair. Get back here, loser.
I aint the one in last place, loser.
Shouldnt you be walk
Jillian grabbed Michael, Sr.s, arm, stopping him from going after the boys. His forearm muscles bunched beneath her fingers before he swung his attention back to her. Shouldnt he be walking to build up his leg strength instead of getting more used to that damn chair?
Jillian drew her hand away from the crisp sleeve and the solid man inside the uniform before her curious fingers dug into that warm flex of muscle. Let him have a little fun. Hes already put in a decent workout session today. Physically, hes reached a plateau and I dont want to burn him out.
Michael Cutlers eyes, as blue and dark as a twilight sky, assessed the shrug of her shoulders before zeroing in on her expression. Hell continue to improve, wont he?
His doctors seem to think so. Jillian reminded him of the good news without sugarcoating the bad. Mike needs to build his self-confidence as much as anything right now. He needs to care about moving on to the next stage of his recovery before more strength and coordination training will do him much good.
Michael, Sr., rubbed his palm over the top of his hair, making the black and silver spikes spring up in the wake of his hand. Sorry. It always comes down to the mental game, doesnt it?
Jillian nodded.
I just get frustrated that hes missing out on so much. Hes still only sixteen.
Think about his frustration.
He wont even talk to me about the night of the accident. I had to read the details in a police report.
Does he share with his trauma counselor? Jillians own sessions with Dr. Randolph, the psychologist whod helped her through rehab at the Boatman Clinic eleven years ago, and who remained a friend and occasional father confessor to this day, had been invaluable to her mental recovery as a teenager.
Not much. You seem to be the only person he opens up to. Captain Cutler worked the brim of his cap with long, strong fingers before everything about him went utterly stillas if hed suddenly realized his emotions were showing and hed shut them down. Such precision, such control. No wonder other cops snapped to his commands. Stop noticing details about the man, already. Jillian focused on what he was saying, made sure she was listening as he slid the cap into his hip pocket and continued. He doesnt have to play football anymore, or go to Harvard or get rich. Id just like him to leave his room once in a while and walk without those damn bracesmeet girls and hang out with his buddies and be a teenager again.
Trust me, itll happen. Jillian went to retrieve the basketball Troy had left on the floor. She knew that damaged people healed at different speeds, and that not even a fathers unflinching support could force the process to go any faster. He just needs time.
Well, Im glad you have the patience to deal with him. You had him smiling and trading high fives before he knew I was here. Seems everything I say or do ends up in a shouting match or him closing the door and not saying anything at all.
Jillian opened the storage bin outside the equipment closet and dropped the ball in. Just doing my job.
Michael Cutler was there to close the lid for her. His piercing eyes seemed to catch the light, even in the shadows from the stands and supports above them. Working magic is more like it. He likes you. Likes coming here. Its just me at home since his mom passed away. Some nights, when hes shut up in his room and I cant figure out what he needs, it feels like he doesnt have anybody. Ive thought about taking another leave of absence from worklike I did right after the accidentbut then I think he prefers the time away from me.