Free Push Girl by Chelsie Hill, Jessica Love

divided and conquered. But I couldn’t forget the fight they’d had the night of the accident, and I knew these separate visits were less about having someone with me at all times and more about trying to avoid spending time with one another. Neither of them had brought up divorce in front of me again, but they weren’t exactly lovey-dovey, either.
    Dad cleared his throat. “Well, we’ve made some changes around the house. You know, for you. Your mother is putting some finishing touches on everything so it’s all ready.”
    Anxiety pumped through my veins. I’d had so much change lately, I wasn’t sure how much more I could handle. “What kind of changes?”
    He grinned. “You’ll see when you get home.”
    He was right. As soon as we pulled in the driveway, I noticed a ramp right there in our front yard, covering the three brick steps that led up to our front door.
    “Wheelchair accessible, just for you!” Dad said.
    I snorted when I saw the makeshift plywood ramp. “What’s the HOA going to say about this eyesore? Doesn’t do much for the curb appeal.”
    My dad sat on the board of our neighborhood’s homeowners’ association, and he was one of those guys who was obsessed with our house and yard. Last year, he’d launched a full-scale attack against Mr. Anderson across the street when he installed one of those custom fish-shaped mailboxes; Dad claimed it was an eyesore that was driving down our property value. I wondered if the Andersons would see this hideous homemade ramp as a chance to retaliate.
    Dad let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, don’t worry. I got it all cleared by the board.”
    Of course he did. I never should have doubted that he had all his bases covered when it came to the association.
    I was out of the car and into my chair much more smoothly this time, and I turned down Dad’s offer to push me up the ramp in favor of wheeling myself up without his assistance. The plywood ramp sagged under the weight of my chair, and Dad’s arms were outstretched, ready to catch me if the whole thing buckled. “I got it, Dad,” I said, pushing myself up the steep ramp.
    It was a struggle, but I made it. “I don’t know if that should go over the stairs,” I said at the top, panting and out of breath. “I feel like I’m pushing myself up at a ninety-degree angle.”
    “Noted,” Dad said. “One more thing I didn’t really think about. I can add that to the very lengthy list. We’ll get one built for you, how about that? Maybe inside the garage. That should be easier.” He swung the door open for me, and I pushed myself in. “We’re home!” Dad called as he followed me into the house.
    At the sound of Dad’s voice, Logan came bounding into the entryway.
    “Little Lo!” I said. “I missed you so much, doggie!”
    Logan stopped to sniff my chair. Once he decided it met his approval, he leaped up onto my lap, tail wagging, and licked my face like it was a giant pork chop.
    Dad lifted Logan from my lap and held on to him while he called again for my mom.
    “I’m in Kara’s room,” Mom called back. But her voice wasn’t coming from my room upstairs; it was coming from my dad’s office down the hall.
    “Okay, so don’t freak out,” Dad said. “But we obviously couldn’t install an elevator in the house. So we figured the most sensible thing to do was move your bedroom down here.”
    “You moved my room?” My mind traveled to my secret stash of sexy bras and underwear that were totally inappropriate for parents’ eyes, and the journal shoved between my bed and the wall, which was even more inappropriate. My parents had gone through my bedroom? They had touched everything? Nothing good could come of that.
    Without thinking, I pushed myself down the hall toward my dad’s office. But once I was out of the entryway, I was on the shaggy carpet of the hallway, and as soon as my wheels touched that carpet, pushing myself became much, much harder. “Argh,” I said. “This carpet.” I