His belly knotted with self-disgust. All he wanted was to get away from the look in her eyes that said, more than words ever could, that he was no longer a man.
“Nick,” she said helplessly, and he slammed his fist against the floor.
“The crutch, goddammit! Give it to me.”
She stared at him. Then she looked away, grabbed the crutch and held it out toward him.
He wound his fingers around the padded top.
His heart was racing like a frightened rabbit’s; his leg, from thigh to ankle, felt as if it had been run through with a hot spear. It took all the strength he had to jam the crutch against the floor and slowly, slowly work his way to his feet.
His vision grayed. The room swam. He could feel Lissa staring at him. Hell, why wouldn’t she stare?
He was nothing but a useless, pathetic piece of shit.
How could he have forgotten that, even for a minute?
At last, after what seemed an eternity, he was fully upright. He waited, head down, dragging air into his lungs. When he took his first step toward the door, the pain screamed through him again.
He could almost feel his bones turning hollow.
Lissa’s hand fell on his arm.
“Nick. Sit down for a minute.”
He shook her off and kept going, putting one foot after the other. Dragging one foot after the other, if accuracy mattered.
“Nick. Dammit, are you crazy? Please—”
He blocked out her voice. Somehow, he reached the door. Grasped the knob. The thing wouldn’t turn.
The door was like a bad joke.
Like his life.
Nick rattled the knob again, called it something nobody in his right mind would call a doorknob, and slammed it with the heel of his hand.
Lissa said his name again. Her voice shook. Wasn’t it enough that she had seen him like this? Couldn’t she have the decency to leave him alone?
She touched him again and, just as she did, the knob turned and the door swung open, but not fast enough to stop her from moving past him and blocking his departure.
The sight of her broke his heart, and wasn’t that amazing, that he still had a heart?
She was still half-naked, still beautiful and he wondered what in hell had made him think he deserved her. Because he didn’t. Never mind the ugliness of his leg.
He didn’t deserve the kindness, the goodness he saw shining in her eyes.
He wanted to tell her all of that, but then he’d have to tell her the rest, and she sure as hell didn’t need to hear it.
The best thing he could for her now was to get out of her life.
He drew a long, ragged breath.
“You want to help?”
She nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
“Then you’ll forget this ever happened. Any of it. All of it. This place. Tonight. The whole thing never happened.”