The Risks

July: Chapter 57

IN THE WEEKS that followed, the roles Parker and I had taken seemed to switch. It was I who held him close and ran my fingers through his hair while we laid in bed during his hard days.

And there had been hard days –the first day of his physical therapy being the hardest.

His failure had made him retreat into himself. For weeks afterward, he'd been silent. He'd refused to try walking again, he'd barely eaten, and getting him to get out of bed for anything had been a struggle. I'd never seen him like that before, and I'd never been more terrified.

And then it suddenly changed. One morning he'd woken up with fire in his eyes and insisted he try walking with his prosthetic again. He'd worked hard, pushed through, began making progress, and eventually, was slowly getting the hang of his new leg. He was still a bit unsteady at times, and by the end of the day his leg would be sore from wearing the prosthetic all day, but he was recovering. Even better, he was becoming himself again. Little by little.

But there was still one question that sat heavily in my mind, and one night as we laid in bed together after a fairly productive day, I'd asked him.

"Do you wish I hadn't saved you?" When he looked at me with furrowed brows, I elaborated. "Your leg, I mean."

"What?"

"It's just that... you've been kind of distant. And I know all this has been really hard, I just... sometimes I feel like you wish I would've just let you go."

"Claire," he'd sighed, rolling onto his side to face me better. "I can't imagine how difficult it must have been for you to do what you did, but I am so thankful to be here with you still. I can't thank you enough for saving me, for giving us more time together." I'd smiled and touched his hands then, where they'd rested against the mattress between us, and he'd looked at me soberly. "This has been really hard, harder than I thought it'd be. My thoughts got dark and... I shut you out, and I'm so sorry for that."

I'd shaken my head. "It's okay-"

"No, it's not. It was wrong. I just couldn't stop thinking about what kind of father I'd make. I'd be nothing but a burden. If I couldn't walk, how could I carry my child? How could I be any help to you?"

"Parker..."

"But I'm in control of how this works out, of how I handle this situation. I could... give up and let myself be a burden, or I could stop feeling so sorry for myself and just try harder. The right answer was obvious." He'd placed his hand along my jaw. "I don't ever want to be a burden to you."

"You never could be," I'd told him.

He'd leaned down and touched his lips to mine, and it had been the first time he'd kissed me like that since the morning after he'd lost his leg. I'd almost forgotten how good it felt. And when he'd pulled away, I'd whined in protest.

"Come back," I'd whispered, wrapping my hands around his shoulders.

But he'd seemed hesitant -unsure. That shadow still remained in his eyes.

"You really want me to?" he'd asked.

It occurred to me then, that maybe he'd thought I wouldn't want him the same way anymore. Oh, but he was a fool.

"Nothing will ever change the way I see you. I will always want you."

So he'd leaned back in. It'd been weeks since he'd touched me, and it hadn't taken long for the kiss to turn urgent, for hands to start roaming.

That had been slow going, too. He couldn't move quite the same way he had before, but we'd made it work. And the more we worked at it, the less I realized that there was any difference at all.