Chapter 2: Charlie

The idea of anyone trying to make her feel bad about what she was going through mortified me. This was one of the hardest times of her life; hell, she was lucky to be alive. If I were ever privy to anyone trying to tell her to suck it up, I'd give them a clear message regarding their behavior. I'd be damned if I didn't put them through a window.

"You're not making a scene." I wasn't great with words and even worse at empathy, so I tried to keep my voice gentle. I tended to have a fairly deep timbre, and in this stark room, it reverberated rather forcefully. The last thing I wanted to do was come across as condescending. "You've been through a lot. I think you're entitled to show some emotion." I needed her to look at me, to give me an indication that she heard me, but I got nothing. "Most people would have cracked under the pressure. You are an incredibly strong woman."

She shook her head, and her messy blond curls bounced with the movement. "I'm not." Her voice cracked, and I felt it like a knife to the heart. "I'm not strong. Not like everyone keeps telling me I am...." Her shoulders heaved and shuddered as she fought to remain composed. Each time she peered at me through her dark lashes, she'd quickly duck her head to avoid my stare.

Sarah wanted to hide her fear. She tried to mask her insecurity. Despite whether or not she felt strong, she needed people to continue to believe she was. I felt that in my soul. And then I realized, it wasn't just the weakness she hoped to shadow; it was the disfigurement. Her fingers hovered over the black thread of stitches where her head had been shaved for surgery, and she held her head at just the right angle to camouflage the scars on the other side.

My hand twitched. Before I even realized what I was doing, I reached out to touch her cheeks. But when she'd flinched, I rested it against her knee instead.

"Please, don't look at me, Charlie." It hadn't been an admission exactly, but the sentiment was still the same.

I hadn't been prepared for it, and I tried not to show her just how taken aback I was by her request. "Okay." I didn't want to push the issue, but I didn't want her to believe I agreed with her. "I don't have to look at you if you don't want me to. But for the record, I would like to." There was no chance I'd ever be accused of being smooth around Sarah Adams. This version of me was worse than the pre-puberty one.

She huffed out a hard laugh under her breath. It was fast and barely audible and clearly not born from humor.

"I'm not exactly at my best." Her words wavered at her insecurity, and they shook just like her spine did when she inhaled deeply. She licked her lips and then lifted her bright eyes to meet mine-like she dared me to see her flaws. "There's nothing redeemable about my face, anymore." She straightened her spine as if to brace herself for whatever harsh criticism she thought I might impart on her, and her words were strangled as her throat tightened.

I was so far out of my element that I didn't have a clue what to say, but I knew I wanted to keep her talking...about anything. "Is that why you're crying?" I asked. "Are you afraid someone might react to your face?" That hadn't come out as eloquently from my mouth as I had meant it in my head.

She shook her head. "It isn't just that. It is, to an extent. But," she sighed, "every day is harder than the last. Nothing gets any easier, and every time I think I'm making progress, I realize that I've gone an inch in an endless stretch of miles. I'm trying to stay positive. I want to be thankful that I survived and have the chance to recover. But today-heck, every day-is hard. So hard. And what's the point? The physical therapists' intentions are better than their capability. They aren't God, and they can't perform miracles."

I nodded and kept listening.

"I'm at the end of my rope, and I think I need to accept that I'll probably never walk again." She dropped her head into her hands, careful to avoid the stitches and the abrasions. "I'm drained. I don't have any more fight in me. I know that sounds like the biggest crock of bull you've ever heard, but..." Sarah stopped shaking her head long enough for me to really take her in-it wasn't nearly as bad as she thought.

My heart melted. I wanted to reassure her, but I kept my distance. My hand remained on her knee, and I found myself stroking her soft skin with my thumb. The desire to pull her to me nearly overtook my willpower. God, I wanted to protect her like a runt calf, but I didn't know this girl from Adam's housecat. And thus, I remained still.

"You wouldn't understand," she whispered. "No one does. Everyone keeps telling me that I'm lucky to be alive. And I know I am. No one is more aware of that fact than me. And when it first happened, that support was almost suffocating. But the world kept spinning for everyone outside these walls. The clouds rolled away, and the threat of my dying passed. People went on with their lives. They stopped panicking. But when the dust settled, it was just me."

I squeezed her knee, and she stopped talking long enough to give me a meager smile that hurt me more than it helped. But I didn't let her go, and I didn't stop caressing her skin. She might not realize how much warmth and life she still had in her, but I could feel it in the pads of my fingers.

"Other than Daddy, it's just me, the physical therapists, and countless doctors who won't remember my name the day I'm discharged. All I'm left with is grueling exercise that isn't producing results. I hope you never know what it's like."

I wondered if anyone else had given Sarah the chance to vent, or if they expected the same woman in here that she had been on the outside. I didn't know her well, but our families were intertwined. I knew how much she did for Jack and that she took care of Miranda after their mama left. She needed someone to take care of her for a change, and it didn't seem she had that. So, I just let her talk and tried to commit every word she uttered to memory.

"All the medication zaps my energy and makes me foggy, but without the pain meds, there's no way I can do the physical therapy. It hurts. All of it hurts so much." A tear slid down her cheek, but she didn't collapse. "What if I never walk again? What if this is the best any of this will ever get? I haven't managed a single step. Not one. I'm just ready to throw in the towel." And with that, she finally stopped. Her shoulders rounded, the tears streamed, and she appeared utterly defeated.

For a moment, my heart refused to beat, and I just stared at her. The absolute hopelessness created a fissure in my chest that cracked open. I ached for the woman in front of me, so much so that I reacted instead of thinking. My hands found her face, and I cupped her jaw without touching any injuries. My thumbs brushed aside the tears she couldn't stop, and I couldn't have torn my eyes from hers if I'd had to.

"Hey," I said. "Listen to me."

She didn't say anything. But she didn't look away, either. Her eyes held mine like she could see through them and into the very essence of me, deeper than anyone else had dared look.

"You can't give up, Sarah."

Her expression softened, but it changed, too. I couldn't pinpoint what it was, but if she weren't riddled with pain, I'd guess it was a hint of elation. I hadn't said anything earthshattering. Hell, I hadn't even said anything poetic. I started to pull apart, but before my touch left her skin, she lifted her hand. Her braced and bandaged fingers rested on top of mine, and she leaned into my palm.

Her eyes smiled, but the tears came faster than they had since I'd walked in the door, and the salty brine seeped under my hands, captured against her cheeks. "What?"

I'd never heard someone sound so panicked in one word-much less myself. "What did I do?" My erratic heart had started beating again, and now my racing pulse was the only thing I could hear. I didn't have a clue what I'd said to upset her, but whatever it was, I'd move mountains to fix it.

She hiccupped in what had to be the cutest display of vulnerability I'd ever witnessed. "It's just..." Her blue eyes sparkled with the first glimpse of hope I'd seen since I stepped into her room. "I didn't even think you knew my name."

My lips turned up in a grin I couldn't resist. Despite the stitches and the scabs, the scars and broken bones, she was the most adorable thing I'd ever seen. Every fiber of my being wanted to pull her in close, to hug her, hold her. But for the first time in my life, I was afraid to touch a woman for fear of hurting her body and my open heart, so I just held her face in my hands.

I planned to stay there as long as she'd let me.