Okay, so here is your lunch. Something simple so that you don’t have trouble raising your fork. Let me know if it is too painful. Okay?”

I moved the tray closer to Ryder. It was a healthy serving of steamed chicken and potatoes with gravy, and though he tried to put up a front, I could see the excitement in his eyes as he stared at the food. I smiled, but straightened my expression before he could see.

It had been several weeks since I’d talked to Michael, and his advice had been spot on. I was firm with Ryder, keeping in mind that he was a patient, and he seemed to be turning around. Not only was he more agreeable, but he was also softer. The glares stopped, though he was still occasionally stubborn. I felt I was finally making headway.

The future is finally looking up, I thought happily. As long as things keep going as they are.

“Eat,” I prompted, nodding for him to pick up his fork. I’d learned my lesson, and sat on the chair beside his bed with my hands on my lap, not trying, or offering, to help.

He eyed me like he was waiting for me to do just that, and I could tell he was surprised when I didn’t, and I smiled again, but failed to hide it in time. The look he aimed at me when he noticed me smiling was conflicted. He stared at me a moment and then gazed back down at his food as he fisted his hands in his lap. They shook slightly, and I thought about placing a hand over his, before thinking better of it. He was nicer, but he probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Alexis, about before…” he started, voice strained, only for his words to trail off.

I tilted my head to the side, wondering what it was he wanted to tell me that had him looking so uneasy. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, and when I leaned closer, he looked off to the side.

Probably apologizing, I decided. He had acted like a total bastard before. The only other thing I could think of was a confession of love.

But then I snorted. I didn’t doubt he would be this nervous if he were.

Still, I didn’t need him to apologize, and he looked like he was having a hard time of it regardless, so I gave him a way out.

“Look, Ryder. I am here to get you back to normal. Maybe even…” I hesitated, but he knew what I wanted to say.

“Walk,” he finished for me.

I nodded. “Yes, but it doesn’t mean that it will happen. I have to be careful what I say to you. I had this problem at the hospital. Giving patients false hope. I am not saying it is false hope! I’m just saying…”

I paused and licked my lip nervously, folding my hands together tightly to stop my fingers from twitching. I knew what I said would affect Ryder, and a bad one. I didn’t want him to just give up like before. Not only would it be hard for me, but it also wouldn't be the right choice for him.

Because honestly, even if he could walk again, the chances that he would ever get to play again had dwindled. I didn’t need a doctor’s opinion to tell me that, though I had it anyway. I unclasped my fingers and played with a lock of my hair, twisting my lips as I tried to come up with something reassuring, that wouldn’t leave him in a panic.

“Right, so do I use my left or right hand or it doesn’t matter?”

I jumped, startled when he spoke. My lips were parted, though I said nothing. Still, I was surprised that he chose to change the subject on his own. Had it been before, I was sure his reaction wouldn’t have been pretty at all. He got snarky when he was in a bad mood and wouldn’t let awkward conversations drop, choosing instead to make me uncomfortable.

“Either way,” I finally said, distracted.

Ryder had this look of determination on his face, and I paid attention once his hand moved. He picked up his fork, and I fisted my hands in my lap as I unconsciously leaned forward. Ryder took some food on his fork and raised it to his open mouth—only to miss and hit his cheek instead. I winced when he scowled and growled at himself.

“Wait!” I blurted out. “This may get a bit messy. Do you want me to put a napkin around your neck?”

He directed his scowl at me, but I ignored it. I knew he’d be even more embarrassed if I let him carry on and he made a mess of himself. Especially since he’d likely need my help to get changed and get to the bathroom, or I’d have to give him a sponge bath. He’d stopped outright complaining about it, but he’d still sulk through it. Finally he nodded, giving in.

He needed to do this on his own, yes, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t lend a helping hand. I leaned over him, neatly securing the napkin on him. Then I stood back and waited. I wasn’t sure for what, maybe a tantrum, but all he gave me was a nod of confirmation.

“Again?’’ he asked.

I sighed, glad he would be a grown-up about this, and said, “This is all on you, Ryder Russ. I am just a spectator, or would you prefer if I left?”

“No,” he said, a little too quickly.

I arched an eyebrow because that reply came a little too quick. But he looked down at his food before I could read what he was thinking. But if he didn’t mind me watching, then I wasn’t going to move. Besides, if my presence could provide some comfort, how could I not offer it?

Slowly, Ryder took the fork from the tray, and this time, he didn’t miss his mouth. I let out a small sigh of relief as he shoved it in and chewed.

“Did you make it?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at me.

I laughed. “If you have ever seen me in the kitchen you would know the answer to that question.”

He stopped eating to stare at me, probably confused.

I smirked. “What, did you think everyone in the White household knew how to cook? Please.”

He frowned and tilted his head. I heard his silent question and rolled my eyes.

“No, Grandma made it for you.”

He nearly choked, eyes going wide as he suddenly looked alarmed. He had a mouthful when he spat out, “Grandma!”

I snorted out a laugh at his reaction. I knew what he was worried about, though. She didn’t exactly like him, after all, and she didn’t hide it, either. I waved a hand in the air as I sat on the edge of the bed, trying not to laugh because I needed to reassure him that she wouldn’t try to poison him.

“I know, I know. She made it for you. She said she would make all your meals.”

He nearly choked as he asked, “Why? She hates me.”

I laughed. “She doesn’t hate you. But she just doesn’t particularly like you. Now that is the difference.”

It wasn’t like I didn’t understand her reactions toward him, though. It hadn't changed in the entire time she’d known him. In high school, she’d met him and immediately taken a dislike to him, I hadn’t known that much about him when we first started going out, but something about him had drawn me in.

But I pushed the thoughts away as Ryder tucked into his food. I relaxed as he ate and didn’t have any more accidents until his plate was empty. He stared down at his plate, then looked up and met my gaze. I held my breath as I tried to read his expression. He looked happy.

There was silence between us until I clapped and cheered. The happiness grew even more obvious on his face, his lips turning up in the first genuine smile I’d seen in weeks, and I grinned. He must be happy to manage to do something on his own, but it was the first step he’d taken by himself.

“Ryder Russ, I think you are on the road to recovery. Slowly, but surely. Now we can start on the exercises. This is for you to do every day. Things you can do on your own, so you won’t need me to be here.” I showed him what they were. “Okay, just do them slowly. I know you are used to exercises, so you don’t need me to be here watching, right?”

Being a professional football player, he must have had to follow sets of exercises plenty of times, and I felt, him managing one more thing on his own could only make him happier, and that was the goal for today. The happier he could be, the more enthusiastic, the better for his recovery.

“I can do it just fine on my own,” he said to affirm my assumption.

I pushed a whiteboard to the side of his face, and his expression went blank. Then he looked around the room and down at his body. It took me a moment to realize what he was looking for.

Ah. His monitor used to be where I was setting up his whiteboard. Every piece of equipment was gone, actually, and all that was left were a few tubes for his bodily waste. He was getting his strength back, and I could see him take this in and grow even more determined.

“Now that you are conscious and healthier, we don’t need all that.” I smiled. “So, you can feed yourself now, goal number one accomplished,” I said. “What’s next on your agenda?”

The smile he aimed at me was wry, but his eyes were entirely serious as he said, “Making trips to the bathroom.”