Free Reaching Rose (Hunter Hill University Book 3) by J.P. Grider

it in the rigid way she holds herself.
    "I have no way of knowing what you are going through right now, but I imagine you'll learn to adjust. Eventually."
    She only nods. Her fists are still clenched so tightly, her knuckles are bright white. I'm also guessing her fingers are in an awful lot of pain as well.
    "You're in good hands here. My coach thinks so anyway. He's the one making me be here."
    I laugh at the confusion on her face.
    "I had meniscus repair surgery. I could have recovered from home. Gone to therapy a couple times a week as an outpatient. But he's ensuring that I'm fully capable to be back on the field for the spring season. His words. Not mine."
    "Baseball?"
    "Yup. Pitcher."
    She nods her approval.
    I want to ask her if she does any sports, but thankfully, for a change, my mouth doesn't spew before my brain has a chance to register what it's going to say, and I refrain from asking her something that I'm positive would trigger tears. At the very least, resentment.
    I'm just about to ask her what kind of music she likes, but there's a guy wearing athletic gear and an unbuttoned lab coat standing at the door, searching for Benito Falco.
    "That's me," I answer, standing up.
    "I'm your PT today."
    "Oh." I look at Rose. "Hopefully I'll see you later?"
    She just nods. But I get a smile. Complete with dimple and all.

13
     
    ROSE
     
    Thank God he left.
    I couldn't stand talking to him.
    It took all my mental strength to not scream or, and this is new for me, to not punch something.
    Ben is sweet. He's funny. He's so darn cute. In my old life, I'd have loved every single moment he'd pay me any attention. But today. Now. Me being a total mess. Scarred down one whole side of my body. I couldn't not be preoccupied with how I probably look from his eyes.
    Will I be this self-conscious the rest of my life?
    Before the accident, I never gave a second thought about my appearance. Yes, I took care to look neat and put-together. And yes, I kept myself trim so I'd look good dancing on stage.
    But I never.
    Never.
    Cared how I looked while having a conversation with another person.
    Now.
    It's all I can think about.
    Poor Rose with her half-a-leg and Jack Skellington face.
    I guess I'm more vain than I thought I was.
    But before I'm able to slink too far into myself, the rec room phone rings, and the aide who answers it tells me it's for me.
    I point to myself, unbelieving that someone would be calling on the phone for me.
    "You're Rose Duncan, right?"
    "Yes," I say, too low for her to hear, but I nod my head and use the arm of the couch and my cane to slowly come to a stand.
    When the aide sees me struggling, she motions to help me, but I hold up my hand, to my surprise, in silent protest. I got it , my mind says, though my mouth doesn't.
    "Hello?" I keep my voice low when I take the receiver.
    "Rose? Is that you, honey? You're really talking again?"
    "Mom?"
    "Dr. Rappaport called me to tell me. Oh, baby, you don't know how happy that makes me. Oh, I want to come down today, but Daddy's so busy on the farm. But I told Dr. Rappaport if you needed me, I'd come."
    "No. Mom...it's okay."
    "Really? Dr. Rappaport didn't think it was necessary, but I wanted to check with you. You're sure?"
    "Yes."
    "Rose. He said you hit the anger stage."
    I don't respond.
    "It's okay, honey. He said it's healthy. You're moving forward. I'm so happy, Rosie. I can't wait 'til you come home."
    "Me too."
    "Okay, baby. I'll let you go. Call me if you want me to come down before Wednesday. Otherwise, I'll see you Wednesday. I love you."
    "Love you too."
    Just as I'm making my way back to the couch, someone calls my name again, and I recognize the voice immediately. I'm excited and agitated at the same time. Using my cane to help me, I turn around slowly, and without being able to help myself, I smile and cry at the same time.
    "No. No. Rose. I didn't come here to make you cry."
    Putting her hands on my shoulders and searching my eyes, she says, "I came