Fighting Our Way (Broken Tracks 2)

I swallow the lump in my throat thinking about the small ring box sitting in the top of the closet.

“I’m not sure what the future has in store for us, but I want to be in control of at least a little bit of it.” He stares with his eyes wide open, waiting for me to talk. Blowing the last bit of nerves out of my body, I add, “I wanted to ask your permission to to marry her.”

His face goes as white as a sheet as he leans back in his chair. “Well…” I wait on bated breath as his color slowly returns and he looks me in the eye. “You know there’s a possibility this could be permanent.”

“Of course.”

He nods as if to assure himself of something. “Well alright then.”

He doesn’t say another word as he picks up his coffee and drains the rest before standing up and putting it in the dishwasher.

“Is that a yes?”

He looks at me, a smile kicking up the corner of his lips. “If you really needed my permission to ask her then you’re not the man I thought you were.” He pushes his hands into his pockets and nods toward the patio doors. “Wanna show me these four-wheelers you were talking about?”

I nod, still in a bit of a daze. When I asked my mom for my grandmother’s ring on Christmas day, I had the idea I wouldn’t be needing it for a little while because there was no way I was asking her without me mending the relationship with her dad. I would’ve asked her regardless but family is important to me, and I know it is to Amelia too so I wanted to do it right.

Now I have his permission and he’s staring me down, waiting for me to make a move, I’m terrified. The sudden dry feeling in my throat won’t go away at the thought of asking her and being rejected.

“Are we going?”

My gaze snaps to his. “Erm… yeah, sure. I just have to take a quick shower and brush my teeth. I didn’t get to this morning since your daughter was hogging the bathroom.”

I push back my chair and he pats my shoulder on the way past him. “Better get used to the feeling, women always have you on your toes.”

I press the button on the side of the chair, lowering myself into the pool as Traci uses the steps and wades over to me.

This is a weekly session now, and each and every time I get into the water, I feel more confident. Nothing has changed, and the last appointment I had with Doctor Bale he told me the swelling was looking much the same.

I know he was trying to discreetly tell me something, but the last couple of weeks I’ve refused to do anything but think about getting better. Just because I don’t have the feeling right now, doesn’t mean I can’t do anything and everything within my power to build my strength for if or when it comes back.

“Ready to get some more muscle strength?” Traci asks, stopping in front of me and signaling for me to lean forward.

Lifting my arms, I put all my energy into it as I brace my core, but ultimately, Traci has to place her hand on my stomach and back to help lift my legs.

“Six lengths?” I ask.

“Let’s aim for four, and if you’re still feeling good, we’ll do another two, okay?”

I nod even though in my mind I know I’m going to do six. The more strength I gain, the better. I don’t care if it means I’ll probably have a four-hour nap afterward, all that matters is my legs are being used.

Slicing my hand through the water, I start on a slow stroke as Traci wades beside me, moving my legs to mimic swimming. I can feel the movement in my stomach, but anything below that may as well not be there.

I manage to get to five lengths before my body starts to give in, but I grit my teeth, pushing through it even as Traci says, “That’s enough for today, Amelia.”

“No, it’s not,” I grind out, needing to do this. I’ve set my mind to it and I have to finish. “Just one more,” I practically plead, but she lets my legs go, placing her hands on my stomach as she pulls me over to the chair.

“You’re trying to run before you can walk.” Her gaze meets mine, and I see the stern warning in them, but I ignore it.

“I’m not, I need to get my stren—”

“No.” She slices her hand through the air once I’m sitting back in the seat. “You’re working too quickly. You’ll do more harm than good.”

“I won’t—”

“You will.” She steps out of the water, standing above me at the side of the pool as she presses the button from the control panel above. “You’ve done five lengths today, that’s above and beyond what I would expect at this stage. You’re flying through the program.”

The water sways over me, causing a small wave as the chair comes out of the water and stops next to my chair I move myself over into. My arms ache more than they ever have before, and even though I know she’s right—I shouldn’t do the last length—it doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.