Lost Without You/A Jordan Knight FanFic✔️

13

NOW

Two weeks later, Lucy leaves her acute care at the hospital and receives several more weeks of care at a rehabilitation facility. Alice spends the most time with her. I work. Shower. And spend every evening with her until bedtime.

Then the day finally arrives—she comes home.

No more assigning blame.

No more breakdowns filled with "what-ifs."

She can't walk on her own yet, but we haven't given up hope and neither have her doctors.

Her days will be filled with three to four hours of in-home therapy (physical and occupational) and online schooling.

"Stop," Lucy says to Alice.

Alice glances into the backseat while I keep my eyes on the road. "Stop what?"

"Pouting."

Alice scoffs. "I'm not pouting. What on earth would I be pouting about?"

"I'm going to be at Dad's house and not yours."

All the bedrooms at Alice's house are on the second level. I offered to put a lift chair on the stairs, but Lucy said she'd rather go home. That cut Alice deeply, but she did a fairly good job of hiding her disappointment in front of Lucy. But clearly not good enough as Lucy calls her out on it.

"It's just temporary until you're running up and down the stairs again," her mom says, grasping for the positive side.

When Lucy doesn't respond, Alice angles her body to get a better look at her. "Say something," she murmurs as regret saturates her words.

"I might not walk again."

Wow. This is the first time she's voiced those words. Was she putting on a brave face for weeks? For who? Us? The therapists?

I make a quick sideways glance just as Alice swallows hard and blinks back her emotions.

"And that's life," Lucy continues. "I'm alive. Maybe I'll do something in the Paralympics. That would be cool. Right?"

When Alice doesn't answer, because she can't, I jump into the conversation. "The coolest, Luce. Your mom would probably frown upon you doing Paralympic rugby, but I can definitely see you competing in archery or Boccia."

"Ooo ... archery would be cool. I'm pretty fantastic at darts."

"Stop," Alice says so quietly we can barely hear her.

"Or tennis. I knew I should have gone out for tennis my freshman year instead of track. What a waste," Lucy says, like she's not facing one of the toughest battles of her life.

There really are no words to describe how much I love this girl. She is and always will be my idol.

"It's never too late—"

"Stop!" Alice cuts me off with an explosive response. "Stop talking about this like it's no big deal. Like never walking again is okay. It's not okay!"

I glance in the rearview mirror at Lucy, who shifts her attention out the window, and Alice turns to look out her window too. When we get to the house, I help Lucy into her wheelchair and let her wheel herself up the ramp I built before we definitively decided whether or not she'd stay with me. For me, it has been and always will be her home, so I want to make sure she feels at home and a little independent when she is here.

We've added all the necessities with advice from her therapists. She has aids to help her use the toilet, shower, and get in and out of bed.

"Thanks, Dad." Lucy smiles as she manages to spin her wheelchair around in the entry to face me and Tatum. When her mom can't even look at her, Lucy clears her throat to get Alice's attention. "I don't blame you. We all make mistakes that we'd give anything in the world to take back—get back that piece of the past—and have a redo."