Fighting Our Way (Broken Tracks 2)

I grab myself a beer and pour a bottle of water into a glass for Amelia.

After setting the table, I hear Amelia’s chair coming toward the kitchen and turn to see her entering. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, she’s wearing sweatpants like I am, and there isn’t a trace of makeup on her face, yet she’s never looked more beautiful than she does right now.

“What?” She ducks her head as I continue to stare at her.

I chuckle while walking over and bending at the knees so I’m level with her. I cup my hand under her chin and lift gently, my thumb brushing across her jaw. “I was just thinking I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

A flush creeps into her cheeks and her eyes bore holes into mine. “No, I’m definitely the lucky one.”

I lean toward her and she closes the distance between us, pressing her lips against mine without hesitation. I deepen the kiss and she wraps her arms around my shoulders, fisting the back of my hair in her hands.

A growl leaves my throat; it’s been far too long since I’ve been able to explore every inch of her, but she pulls away all too soon for my liking.

I stand up and her gaze flicks down to the tent in my sweatpants before connecting her eyes back to mine with a raised brow.

I shrug as I walk toward the stove. “Can’t help it, you’re a tease.”

“I am not a tease,” she scoffs.

Taking the pot off and dishing up, she takes her place at the table as I laugh softly. “Oh, you really are.”

I set her plate in front of her and she licks her lips. “This smells amazing.”

We tuck into our meals and I can’t help watching her as she talks animatedly, it’s almost as if she’s back to the Amelia she was before the accident. She’s changed ever since her parents came and we got the news about Phoebe. It?

?s like a weight was lifted off her shoulders and she’s looking forward to the future instead of living in the past.

The word “future” has those nervous feelings and doubts I’ve had floating around my head coming back, but I quash them down, trying not to think about the ring still sitting in the closet. I’ve been waiting for the “right time,” but no time ever seems “right.”

But until then, I have something else I can give her.

She leans back in her wheelchair and blows out a breath. “That was incredible, I’m so stuffed.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” I reply, taking our plates over to the sink and pulling the silver-wrapped box out of the draw by the refrigerator and walking over to her. “I think I’ve kept you in enough suspense.”

She reaches out and takes the rectangular box from my hands, her gaze moving from the box to me and back. “But… my birthday isn’t for another two weeks.”

I chuckle and sit back down. “I know.” She looks back up at me and I shoot her a smile. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Her mouth drops open as she takes the top off the box. “Nate… it’s beautiful.”

I reach over and take the delicate droplet necklace out of her hands and undo the clasp, walking behind her and tying it around her neck. “Maya helped me pick it out.” Her hand clasps it before she frowns. “If you don’t like it I can take it back and you can choose something else.”

She shakes her head gently. “No, no, it’s not that. The necklace is beautiful, I just wish you would have reminded me it was Valentine's Day. I would’ve gotten you something.”

If only she knew what she’s given me.

“You’ve already given me everything I need.”

She’s silent as her fingers brush over the necklace again. “I don’t want you getting me anything for my birthday, you’ve already done so much for me.”

“I do things for you because I want to, not because I have to.”

She looks down at her hands. “I just feel like such a burden at times. I’m not paying for bills or for groceries, you cook practically all the meals and pay for a cleaner to take care of the house—”

“Because I want to. What do you think I was doing before you came along?” I raise a brow. “I’d be paying for groceries, bills, and a cleaner anyway. You just make it more worthwhile now.” I kiss her knuckles. “And if you think I’m not getting you anything for your birthday, you’re sorely mistaken.”

She starts to wheel toward the living room and I follow after her, taking my beer with me. “I’m not sure I want to celebrate this year.”