Read Online How to Keep Rolling After a Fall by Karole Cozzo - Free Book Online Page B

treat.”
    I glance to the right and my heart lurches. Kohr Bros. “No, thanks,” I say hurriedly, and keep walking, not wanting a painful memory to kill my good mood.
    â€œCome onnn,” he cajoles. “Don’t tell me you don’t want some. It’s low-cal and low-fat. You girls dig that, right?”
    â€œIt’s not that.” I exhale sharply, tugging my windblown hair back into place.
    The teasing smile slides off his face, and his eyes narrow in concern. “Nicole?”
    But even though I try to keep the memories from flooding my mind, they come in a sudden onslaught.
    T-ball games and secret before-dinner shared cones of orange cream and vanilla swirl. Late-night bike races to the end of the boardwalk and spontaneous stops at Kohr’s for peanut butter and chocolate, with chocolate jimmies. His laughter as he swiped at my upper lip with a napkin, eyes shining as he cautioned me, “You’re gonna give us away. Get us in trouble with your mother.”
    Then I’m forced to think of the very recent memory of his turning his back on me and walking from the kitchen, walking away from me. Emma has always been my mom’s darling, but I was daddy’s little girl. My throat closes, and my knuckles tighten around my stupid oversized poster. Nothing seems funny anymore.
    â€œNicole?” he asks again.
    I drop onto a nearby bench and shake my head. “My dad’s never going to forgive me,” I say as a means of explanation. “Kohr’s was … sort of our thing.”
    Pax comes to a stop beside me, and I look at him.
    â€œMy mom’s still so mad at me, and that sucks. But my dad … it’s even worse.” My voice is nothing more than a strained whisper. “It’s like I broke his heart. I mean, what I did to Taylor … it feels awful, but sometimes it feels like … what I did to my dad … was even worse.”
    My head falls forward and I struggle mightily because I don’t want Pax to think I’m this basket case who ends up in tears all the time. Even if maybe I am.
    When I think I can manage it, I lift my head and try to force my quivering mouth into something that resembles a smile. I choke out a laugh. “Maybe I should try that whole biofeedback thing you were talking about. Maybe if I can make myself smile … I’ll stop feeling so bad about things with him.”
    But to my surprise, Pax doesn’t join me in the joke. “Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t.” His face is more serious than I’m used to seeing it as he beckons me toward him. “C’mere,” he murmurs. He pulls my head to his shoulder and wraps his arms around me. Tightly. So tightly that I feel like he’s the one thing holding me together and so it’s safe to collapse. I bury my face against his firm chest, feel his biceps tightening around my back.
    It feels so good to have him holding me again, and it’s hard to pull myself out of his embrace. Except I’ve already sat there too long, and I’m in danger of getting home late and ruining all this. I sit up and brush at my eyes. “God. Sorry I’m a mess. I really have to go,” I tell him sadly. “I’m going to be late.”
    â€œLet me drive you. It’s too dark for you to be walking home by yourself.”
    I nod in agreement and walk beside him the rest of the way to his car. I’m past the point of worrying about awkwardness. There’s no need for it, anyway. In quick, practiced moves, Pax slides from his chair onto the seat, braces his hands behind his calves, hefts his lower body into the car, and then collapses his chair and hoists it into the backseat. I stare down at his limp legs. When I first met Pax, it kind of seemed like his self-assurance and big personality didn’t match up with the reality of his situation. Now it just seems like the uselessness of his lower body