I’m on my bed again, feeling rotten this time. The mind is a funny thing, fooling you into believing everything is all right one minute, that you’re strong enough, and then it reminds you in the next that you’re a complete failure.

Even my accomplishment at overcoming my fear of swimming isn’t enough to quench the fire of disappointment that’s raging through my system.

Swimming won’t keep me warm at night. The water can’t love me like a woman can.

After my accident, and after Audrey broke me, I thought that was it, that it was all over, that the romantic phase of my life had died along with my legs. I never wanted to fall in love again, especially since I was convinced no woman would ever be attracted to me, or give me a chance. Before tonight, I was okay with that, okay with spending the rest of my life alone. Now I’m no longer sure of anything.

Alice has completely changed everything inside me. She made me smile, made me laugh, drove me to renovate my living room, for God’s sake. And now she’s changing another part of me—one I’d ignored for years.

I want her. That truth can no longer be hidden. She reaches deeper into my soul, deeper than even Audrey had gone. During the hours I’d spent without her earlier today, I’d felt empty, disoriented.

Alice makes me feel complete even in an incomplete state. I’ve known her for only a few days, but I can’t start to imagine how my life will be after she’s gone.

I close my eyes, forcing myself to sleep, to forget her naked body.

My eyes fly open again when I hear a movement at the door. The doorknob sighs silently as it turns. The door is opened, then closed again.

Someone is inside my room. Alice is inside my room. Her presence is so unmistakable. I can already smell her skin from across the room.

What is she doing here? Maybe she wants to tell me it’s all right, that I don’t need to feel bad about sneaking into her room. But why wouldn’t she knock? Why wouldn’t she switch on the light? Why is she standing in the dark at my bedside, sliding under the covers next to me?

Her body is warm, silky as she moves closer to me. The sensation of having her near is so intense, my chest tightens. Moving would be the wrong thing to do. She might come to her senses and change her mind.

She moves even closer. Her warm breath caresses my cheek now. Her arm slides under my T-shirt. Her fingers fan against my chest, stroking, smoothing.

“What are you doing?” I need to know that she’s sure of what she’s doing, that she’s in her right mind, that this isn’t a dream.

“Shh,” she whispers in my ear.

That’s all the permission I need to turn my upper body to face her, to slide an arm around her small body, to swing her on top of me, to put a hand behind her head and pull her lips to mine.

My tongue slides between her ruby lips, parting them, pushing into her warm mouth. She tastes incredible ... sweet. The tip of my tongue explores hers, caressing, probing, teasing, dominating.

I part my mouth a few inches wider, swallowing her sighs and moans. My hand moves from her neck, down her back, and cups her ass tight.

Since the accident, I’d paid prostitutes to make me feel sexual again. Each session always ended in disappointment as each one of them failed. No, I failed since I was incapable of staying erect long enough for actual intercourse. Talk about a kick to an already fragile ego.

Maybe this time will be different. This woman arouses both my mind and body. What are the chances of me succeeding at two things in one night? Swimming and making love.

I’ve heard stories of paraplegics having full and satisfying sexual relationships. If only I can make it past this one huge block in my path, maybe, just maybe, life wouldn’t be so bad after all. At least not as bad as I had made it out to be.

With the help of Alice’s very eager hands, I remove my shirt and she pushes a hand into my shorts.

For a tense moment, I let her run her hand up and down my dick, close my eyes and force myself to feel everything. I want to make love to her so much it hurts.

I have no idea how long her hand stays inside my pants, but nothing amazing happens. My jaw clenches.

I can’t fucking let her down. It took bravery for her to come to my room. I refuse to send her back with nothing.

I put my hand over hers and pull her out of my pants.

“Don’t,” she whispers. “Let me make you feel.”

“No.” My voice is harder than I want it to be. I bring her hand to my lips, kiss the palm. Then I slide her body off me and whisper for her to turn around so I can spoon her.

Kissing the nape of her neck, I move my hand to the front of her body, massage the little mounds on her breasts, then move lower, past her stomach. I bury my hand into the warm, moist place between her legs.

A choked sound escapes her as my fingers separate her lips to allow me entry. I may not be able to fuck her with my dick, but as an artist, I’ve always been good with my hands. I drive into her slowly, inserting one finger, then another, then another until she can’t take any more.

“Do you like what I’m doing to you?” I ask. She moans in response, so I continue pleasing her. Her moans, her reaction to me, drives me almost insane because I can’t do something that I want so badly to do.

I move in and out of her, getting her ready and moist enough until all four of my fingers are inside. I curl them inward, enjoying the feel of walls against the pressure of my fingertips. She starts to tremble and jerk as I move in and out faster and faster. And then she calls out my name.

While one half of my heart fills with warmth, the other shatters.

When it’s all over, she lies panting next to me, and my table light is back on. I’m dressed again, but she’s still naked even though I offered her a bathrobe. I love having her naked next to me, but it also drives me out of my mind being unable to fully enjoy her body.

We’re quiet for a long time, minutes ticking by as we ponder the best words to explain this situation, as we contemplate what comes next.

“You’ve changed my life,” I whisper, not daring to look at her, to watch the pain my words will inflict. “I’m sorry I can’t change yours.”

“Too late.” A smile is evident in her voice. “You already have.”

“You deserve so much more than me, Alice.”

She props herself up onto one elbow, searching my face. “And you are more than everything, Lance LaClaire.” Her face is bright with smiles.

“Even after—”

She places a finger on my lips. “There are ways to help out. You … we don’t have to miss out on anything.”

I bury a hand in her damp hair. “Sweetheart, you deserve a man who can get it up without outside help, a real—”

“Man?” Determination flashes in her eyes. “Don’t you dare let that bowling alley guy get to you! You’re a better man than he ever could be. You said it yourself.”

“I lied. I only said what I wanted to believe.” I put my hands on both sides of her face, kiss her hard on the lips, holding her to me a little longer, breathing in her fresh scent. “But he was right. What kind of life can you have with me?”

“A beautiful one. The last few days have been a bit of a roller coaster at times, but I’ve never felt for any man what I feel for you.”

“The man you’ve come to know in the last couple of hours is not me. You can’t compare a few hours to a lifetime.” I rake a hand through my hair. “I have a lot of bad days, and when they hit, I’m a bitter and angry man. You saw how I was when we first met. Are you prepared to spend your life with someone like that?”

She doesn’t respond. I’m terrified she’ll agree with me, and I’m terrified she won’t.

“We all have our good and bad days,” she says finally. “You have the right to be depressed sometimes. Who better to be by your side than someone who’s fallen into that same dark hole one too many times?”

I trace her lips with a tip of my finger. “I want you to be completely happy. If you choose a life with me, you’d be as chained to a chair as I am. I want to spare you the pain of being ridiculed for being at my side. People can be cruel. The media can be cruel. Trust me, you don’t want to find that out for yourself.”

One of her tears hits my face. “I don’t care.” She stops to harness her emotions, eyes glittering. “As long as we’ve got each other—”

“You have no idea how much I want this. How much I want you. But you’ll never be able to fly if you’re chained to me.”

“Being in love is not imprisonment.” She wipes away a tear. “Not if it’s with the right person. We’re two imperfect people who can complete each other.”

“You love me?” The words light a fire at the back of my throat. “You barely know me.”

“I’ve known you since the day you met my sister. I saw you first. It was love at first sight for me.” She pauses. “I wanted to talk to you, but ... well, I didn’t have what Audrey had. I was too late.” She flops back onto the pillows and covers her face with her hands. “When I heard about your accident, I came to the hospital. They refused to let me see you.”

I pull myself up in bed, brow crinkled. “You ... you were there?”

“I tried to get Audrey to come, but—”

“You were there?”

“Yes.” She sits up as well. “I didn’t fall in love with you the past few days. I fell in love with you twelve years ago. I read every story about you over the years.”

“And you still want to be with me?”

She pushes back the covers and swings a leg over me, straddling me. “More than anything.” Her tears flow faster now, but she’s also smiling.

I brush them away with both thumbs. “Why in the world would you want to do something like that to yourself?”

“Because I’m crazy about you, silly.” She laughs and I draw her closer, kissing her.

The kiss lasts until we run out of breath and I break it. “I’m too broken to love you the way you’re meant to be loved.”

The light in her eyes dims and she climbs off me again, slides off the bed, wrapping her body with a sheet. “I also have the right to choose who to love. I’ve thought about you for twelve years, shared your pain when my sister walked on your heart.” She wipes the tears away with a corner of the sheet. “Shouldn’t that count for something?”

“It counts for everything. Trust me, it does.” My vision blurs. “I can’t slow you down, Alice. I’m stuck in a wheelchair, but you have the ability to run toward happiness. I won’t be able to keep up.”

“Stop using the bloody wheelchair as an excuse.” Fire explodes in her eyes. “You think you’re imperfect and I’m not? You’re so wrong. I’m as imperfect as you are, if not more. We can make each other whole. Just give me permission to brighten some of your dark days.”

I bury both hands in my hair. “This is not a fairy tale. This is real life. Real life hurts like hell.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Her shoulders drop. “I’m wasting my time, aren’t I? You won’t give me a chance, no matter what I say.”

“I would if I had any chances to give.” My hands grip the sheets on both sides of me. “I’m one big, broken empty shell.”

She takes a few steps toward the door, the white sheet like a wedding train as it sweeps the floor behind her. She turns with a hand on the doorknob. “You know what? I thought you were afraid of living, but you proved to me that I got it all wrong. You’re afraid to love, and that is an even greater tragedy.” She pauses. “I have no reason to be here anymore. I’m going home tomorrow.”

My mind screams for me to stop her, but no words come out of my mouth as I watch the bed sheet disappear through the door, taking my heart with it.

When the door closes, I grab the bedside lamp and slam it against the wall, then I pull myself together and call Doc.

“I’m coming back to Boston tomorrow. I need to know more about the epidural stimulation treatment you mentioned last time.”