“I hate this place.”

“This particular place? Or any place that confines you to a wheelchair?”

Ace was in Chance’s room as he was at least four nights a week. Arms folded across his chest, and ankles crossed as he leaned against the wall at the end of Chance’s bed, he eyed the younger man with pretend calm.

The last three days had been good ones, even if Marisa still refused to meet with him.

But tonight, Chance was in one of his moods. A really rotten mood. Marisa had warned Ace the minute he’d stepped inside the building about a bad round with physical therapy. She’d rested a hand on his arm, and he’d been fool enough to hope that single touch meant something.

“Both,” Chance said. “I hate this place. I hate this chair. I hate my life.”

The pity Ace had felt from the beginning was waning fast. Chance didn’t need pity. He needed a good, cowboy kick-start.

But was the man who was instrumental in putting him in that wheelchair the right person to give it? Probably not, but Ace was the only one here.

He uncrossed his ankles and moved closer to the bed. “Then stop whining and do something about it.”

Chance’s nostrils flared in annoyance. “Yeah, right. Good advice, Caldwell.”

“Seriously. Get your act together and get out of here, run your own life.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, wise guy, I’m paralyzed. I can’t run anywhere. Ever again.”

“That’s not your biggest problem.”

“What would you know about it? You have two good legs.”

“Other paraplegics live full lives.”

“Good for them.”

Ace whipped out his cell phone and did a quick search. He’d been waiting for this moment. In view of the current negative attitude from Chance, Ace figured he couldn’t make things worse by trying something new.

When he found what he was looking for, he handed the device to Chance. “Watch this.”

Sullenly, Chance watched the video. As he did, his expression changed. Slowly, his interest piqued. When the video ended, he said, “There probably aren’t many paras in such good shape.”

The videos showed paraplegics participating in a variety of activities, everything from skiing to tennis. “Want to bet a burger on that?”

Marisa sailed into the room. “No betting in this establishment.”

Every nerve in Ace’s body reacted. Even an exhausted, skinny Marisa in baggy scrubs made his blood hum and his world brighter. “That’s because you’ve already won all my toothpicks in poker.”

She flashed him a smile, and he answered with one of his own. He credited the tamales. Times like this, he almost believed she liked him again.

“What are you two outlaws betting on?”

Ace took the phone from Chance and handed it to Marisa. She watched with interest before saying, “The docs and therapists have told him this kind of lifestyle is possible, but I think it’s too dangerous. What if he gets hurt?”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“No.” She shook her head, her lips thinning. “It’s too risky. I will never allow him to be put in danger again.”

He heard what she didn’t say but was likely thinking. Ace had put them both at risk the night of Chance’s birthday, and the results had been tragic.

How did he convince her he was not that guy? That, through Christ, he was a new man? Not that his sober life would change Chance’s situation.

Jesus had forgiven him. Would Marisa ever be able to?

“Proposition. Pick a day when you don’t work, and I’ll take both of you out to the ranch. Fresh air, fishing, Connie’s cooking.” He pivoted toward Chance. “What do you think, Chance? The decision is yours.”

Before the younger man could speak, Marisa exploded. “Absolutely not. No. Just…no.”

“Why not? The ranch is as safe and harmless as any place you’ll find.”

“I said no, Ace. And that’s that.”

She spun like a tornado and blew out of the room.

Chance made a low humming sound. “You put her knickers in a twist.”

Ace turned to face his friend. “Sorry about that.”

“I thought going out to your ranch was a great idea.”

“No kidding?”

“Anything to get out of here for a day.”

“She’s afraid for you.”

“Controlling, overprotective, scared to death. But without her, I’d be toast.”

“She’s a good woman. And she loves you a lot.”

“To the point of sacrificing everything for me. I’ve studied enough psychology to know that’s not good for either of us. She needs to find a good man, get married, and have ten kids to fuss over.”

“Is she going out with anyone?” Ace kept the tone casual, but he listened intently. He’d loved her once. He didn’t want some jerk of a guy messing with her.

Chance gave him a long look. “Not since you.”

The admission struck Ace in the chest. She’d loved him. He’d devastated her. Now, she hated him. And she was alone in this fight to care for her brother.

Chance levered up. “Help me out of this bed, would you?”

Glad for the change of topics, Ace grabbed the wheelchair and unfolded it. “Tell me what to do.”

Under Chance’s instructions, Ace easily helped him into his chair. He was strong and fit, and Chance had lost a lot of weight. “You’re not near as hard to wrestle as a steer.”

Chance flexed a puny arm. “Weak as a baby.”

“You could use some upper body weights to get back in shape.”

“Yeah. They’ve got some here. Baby weights. I never go down to the fitness room. It’s useless.”

Chance settled into the chair. He adjusted, poked a pillow behind his back and lifted each bare foot onto the foot rest with his hands.

Ace watched the movement, stricken by the flaccid muscles in the athletic man’s lower body. He’d once been more physically fit than Ace, a coach and a ball player, always active.

Chance must have read his expression because he stilled, hands around his upper thigh. “It wasn’t your fault, Ace.”

Grief welled up in Ace’s chest, gripping his heart in an iron fist. “Yes, it was.”

“I was twenty-four years old, not a kid. I made my own stupid choices that night.”

“My truck. My keys.” Ace’s throat constricted. He swallowed past the ache. “I shouldn’t have asked you to drive.”

“I thought I was sober enough. You certainly weren’t.”

“Neither of us was.” Ace didn’t remember much of anything past handing the keys to Chance inside the bar. At some point later, he’d crawled into the back seat of the truck and passed out. He’d awoken to the sound of sirens. Lots and lots of sirens.

“I wanted to blame you, but I can’t. I took your keys.” Chance reached for a plastic water cup. His fingers trembled. “You didn’t force me to drink that night.”

“I bought a few rounds.”

“And I bought a few more.” Chance paused to sip at the cup. “If you’d been the one who was badly injured, would you have blamed me?”

Ace dragged a hand over his face, considering. “No man can say how he’d feel about something like that until it happens to him. I hope I wouldn’t.”

“You wouldn’t. You’re not made that way. But us Foremans come from dysfunctional parents with victim mentalities. Marisa and I used to discuss it.” He made a face. “Lately, we don’t discuss anything, but back then, when I was in college, we promised not to be like our parents. They blame something or someone for every bad thing that happens to them, when most is their own fault. A lost job was because of a mean boss, not the fact that they’d missed days of work while they binged. Losing their kids? A broken system. Getting tossed in jail for public drunk or breaking into a vacant house? Police were bullies. They expect the world to give them a break no matter what they do. Marisa and I promised not to be that way. We’d fight our way out of the pit and be better.”

“And you did.”

“Did we?”

Ace rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “In AA we talk about changing the things we can and accepting the things we can’t. I think it applies in your case, too.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Chance wheeled his chair toward the door and closed it. He swiveled back toward Ace with a sneaky grin. “When are we going fishing?”

Ace held up both hands, palms out. “We have to convince your sister first.”

“I don’t need her permission, Ace.”

“Maybe not, but I do.” He’d done enough to hurt her. He wouldn’t intentionally do more.

And getting her approval would not be an easy task.

Marisa heard the laughter long before she got to Chance’s room. Ace was there again.

For the last five days, ever since tamale night, he and Chance had behaved as if nothing bad had ever happened between them. It made her nervous. Ace made her nervous. Probably because hearing his voice and seeing him again had her wishing things had turned out differently, and not just for her brother. She understood the psychology, but knowing her predilection for men like Ace didn’t stop her silly heart from overreacting every time she thought of him.

Still, he was exactly the reason she’d arrived an hour early today. Saturday was her day off from daycare, and her errands were finished. She wanted time with her brother alone. She hadn’t known Ace would be here.

Another burst of laughter caught her as she whisked inside the utilitarian room.

Ace looked up, affecting a jiggle in her pulse as he motioned to her. “Come here. You gotta see this.”

An iPad was propped on Chance’s rolling table, and her brother was glued to the screen. Suddenly, he cackled and rocked back in his chair. The movement shifted his paralyzed body to one side, unbalancing him.

“Chance!” Alarmed, Marisa rushed to him, bracing his body and the chair with her side. “Be careful. You’ll fall. You know what happened before.”

Chance’s laugher died. “That was months ago.”

“But the fall set you back. You can’t afford to have that happen again.”

Chance closed his eyes and sighed.

The atmosphere in the room palled. Was it her fault? Had she embarrassed her brother in front of company? Surely, he didn’t care what Ace thought.

She searched for a way to elevate the mood.

“What were you guys laughing about when I came in? Must have been hysterical.”

Chance didn’t open his eyes. “Nothing.”

“Oh, come on, pal, cut her some slack. She can’t help being a control freak.”

Marisa bristled. “I am not.”

“Sure, you are.” Ace swirled the iPad in her direction. “We’re watching funny YouTube videos. Pull up a chair.”

“I can’t.”

Ignoring her protest, Ace dragged the chair closer to the small screen. A cat skittered across the video, all four feet stretched across a bathroom doorway in determined resistance. He did not want a bath.

Marisa grinned. The next animal video appeared, and she laughed. Standing next to her, close enough that she could feel his body heat, Ace laughed too.

Chance’s curiosity must have overcome his aggravation because he laughed at the third one. Marisa snuck a glance at Ace. He winked but didn’t remark on the change in her brother.

Her pulse did the jiggle thing again, and this time she let it. As long as she knew the score, what did it matter if she reacted to an attractive man?

There was the problem. She’d not been on a date since the breakup with Ace. Between Chance’s injury and work, she’d had no time or interest. Didn’t matter now. What man would want a woman who came with a grown brother to care for the rest of his life?

Horrified at the turn of thoughts, she slipped out of the room, away from the two men who were driving her crazy.

City Park wouldn’t have been his first choice, but when Marisa finally consented to meet him, Ace readily agreed to her terms.

He also stopped off at the nearest pizza parlor for a large Canadian bacon pizza, cinnamon bread sticks, and root beer. Marisa, he recalled, loved all three.

He waited for her at the entrance, a sidewalk that led into Clay City’s pretty park of massive old trees and concrete picnic tables. Up the hill from the tables was the local swimming pool, empty now until school dismissed for summer. To the left near the restrooms and drinking fountain, a large wooden play town hosted a handful of giggling, squealing preschoolers and their moms. One lone dad in baggy shorts and a ball cap pushed a little girl in a swing while she called, “Higher, Daddy, higher.”

Kids. He wanted a few. At one time, he’d thought of marriage and family as something in the distant future, but lately he yearned for what his brother and sister had—a steady, solid love with the right person and a couple of kids. The desire to settle would stun his siblings if they knew.

Maybe God was changing him in more ways than one.

An older model red Toyota pulled up and parked beside his truck. Marisa, in jeans and a pale blue T-shirt, got out. Her dark, thick hair was pulled back at the nape into a single braid, one of those fancy things that twisted along the sides and met in the back. A rope he could braid, but the fancy hair braids baffled him. He liked it though. She looked fresh, pretty, and young, her shirt color emphasizing the blue in her gray eyes.

She licked her lips and swallowed. Those pretty eyes shifted away.

The once natural ease of their relationship had disappeared in the aftermath of the accident.

His fault. Again.

“Hey.” He stepped toward her. “I’m glad you came.”

Too glad, if the grasshoppers jumping in his belly were any indication.

Marisa saw the pizza and relaxed a little. “Softening me up?”

“Bread sticks.” He lofted the soda. “And root beer.”

“All this? After the tamales?” She reached for the bread stick box and sniffed in appreciation. “Cinnamon. Mmm. Must be true what they say. The way to a woman’s heart—”

She caught herself and stopped, her expression flattening.

Ace bumped her shoulder with his. “Lighten up. You were joking. Joking is good.”

He was softening her up, and even if he wanted to win her heart again, he wasn’t dumb enough to think it would be as easy as tamales and pizza.

As they walked side by side toward a shady table, he pondered the mix of emotions Marisa engendered. Exasperation. Compassion. Grief and guilt. But there was more too. Truth was, he’d never settled the Marisa issue.

They reached the table and deposited the boxes. Marisa took the bench on one side, and he sat on the other. Scattered sunlight filtered through the tall, leafy trees and dappled the table and them. For once, the Oklahoma breeze was light, so the paper napkins didn’t blow away.

He flipped open the cardboard box and held the pizza toward her. “Canadian bacon.”

“You dog. You don’t play fair.”

He laughed. She was teasing him. The Marisa he’d loved was finally sitting across from him without an expression of censure.

It hit him then. He’d missed her.

Marisa took a pizza slice, the hot cheese stringing behind. She slid a finger underneath and broke it off.

Ace waited, hoping she’d do what she once had.

She didn’t.

Sad for reasons that made no sense, he chose a slice. “I’ll ask the blessing.”

Her gaze was solemn, questioning, as he bowed his head and murmured a simple prayer. He could practically read her thoughts. Was he for real? Or was this an act concocted to get his way?

Actions, Connie had taught him, speak louder than words. For too long, his actions had screamed selfishness, and only new actions could prove that he’d turned a corner.

He chowed down on the still hot pizza. They ate in silence for a few minutes, focused on the lunch and the park.

“It’s a pretty day for a picnic. I’m glad you brought food.”

“I always think of food. It’s the Caldwell way of relating.”

“I seem to recall all those Sunday dinners, cookouts for random reasons, birthday parties. Do you still do that?”

It had been only a couple of years since she’d been to the ranch, not a lifetime, but he knew better than to say that. “Every chance we get. We had a birthday party for Nate’s twins a few weeks ago, and Connie is already itching to fire up the smoker again.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Want to come?” He tossed the question out as casually as he could.

“You know I can’t.”

“I don’t know that. You need a break and time to relax with people who like you.” And he really wanted her to say yes.

“I like them, too. You have a great family.” The words were wistful.

His heart jumped. She’d had so little in the way of familial relationships. She and Chance against the world.

“Then come.” He put aside his half-eaten pizza slice and leaned in. “Take a day off.”

“I haven’t worked at either job long enough to receive paid leave.”

He wanted to say he’d pay her, but she’d take it the wrong way, and they’d be back to square one.

He couldn’t take the chance. The last few times he’d seen her, she hadn’t seemed so angry, and Ace thought they were gaining ground. She’d started hanging out longer to talk, mostly about nothing important, but the conversation was friendly and kept Chance entertained. As long as the accident wasn’t mentioned, she didn’t seem to despise him quite as much.

“Then we’ll plan something on your regular day off.”

She cocked her head, stared at him. “Why would you do that?”

“Now that Emily is married with a baby, Nate is married with twins, and Wyatt rarely comes home, I’m the odd man out.” He wasn’t, but it sounded like a good argument.

“So take a date.”

“Not interested.”

She looked up. “What?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have offered that personal bit of information. He didn’t want to discuss the indiscriminate binge months followed by the ugly battle with a very personal demon. He had no time or energy left for dates.

As an excuse not to discuss his love life, Ace grabbed a napkin and reached across the table. “You’ve got sauce—“

A speck of marinara lingered on Marisa’s right cheek, close to her mouth. That beautiful, kissable mouth. Soft and firm at the same time, supple and sweet.

He held her chin to wipe away the marinara. Her breath made warm puffs against his skin. His arm hair prickled in response.

He didn’t know if he was thankful for the table between them or if he wanted to jump across it and take her in his arms.

Yeah. That.

He’d give a hundred dollars to kiss her again. Make that a thousand.

He hadn’t been with a woman since starting AA. Marisa was the reason, though he’d not realized it until now.

She watched him, quiet as the breeze, but he felt the uptick in her breathing. Did he still affect her as much as she affected him? Or was he imagining her response because he wanted it?

Ace sat back, aware his heart was galloping. His goal was to make amends, not restart a relationship that could never be the same. Even if a sober Ace didn’t find anyone else the slightest bit appealing.

“Want more pizza?” He pushed the box toward Marisa.

She took another slice. This time, she meticulously picked away the mushrooms. Ace offered an open palm. Lips curved, she placed the offending mushrooms in his hand. He dumped them onto his next piece the way he’d done when they were a couple.

What had changed?

“Still hate them?”

She offered a fake shudder. “Squishy, nasty things.”

“All the more for me.” Ace felt light and happy, a dumb reaction to a handful of cooked mushrooms.

He popped one in his mouth, chewed and swallowed, then swigged root beer to wash down an unexpected surge of longing. “Chance needs to get out of that place.”

He hadn’t intended to be quite that abrupt.

Marisa bristled. “That place is the best facility around.”

Ace raised a hand in surrender. “I wasn’t criticizing. Sunset Manor is a good place. For elders. Chance is a young, vital man. He needs to go places, do things, and get involved in life again.”

“We’ve had this discussion, Ace. He won’t.”

And you won’t let him. You object until he gives in, not wanting to upset you.

“He does this time. He wants to come to the ranch. He told me so.”

She was already shaking her head. “The answer was no before, and it’s still no. A ranch is too dangerous. He could get hurt.”

It was always that. Her fear of injury. Her fear, not Chance’s.

“I’ll be with him. I won’t let anything bad happen.”

The words fell between them like boulders. He’d let something bad happen before.

“He needs this, Marisa. It’s all he talks about.”

“You went behind my back after I told you how I felt?”

“He’s excited about something. Isn’t that progress?” Ace leaned closer, itching to touch her again. “If you can’t trust me, trust my family. Plus, you’ll be with him every minute.”

She went silent, her lips drawn down and set in stubborn refusal. The pizza slice hung limp from her hand.

Chance didn’t need her permission to do anything, but telling that to Marisa would instigate World War III.

Frustrated, Ace left the table to toss his empty soda can into a trash receptacle. Aluminum rattled against the metal barrel. Honey bees swarmed up from the smelly garbage, buzzed a few seconds while Ace prepared to run, and then settled again.

Marisa rose too. To his utter shock, she placed a hand on his shoulder.

Voice kind, she said, “I know you’re trying to help him, Ace. I see what you’re doing, how hard you’re trying, and I appreciate the efforts, but a wheelchair and the care center are his life now.”

Ace’s hands closed into fists. “I don’t accept that. Giving up is failure.”

“You told me you wanted to make amends for what happened. You’ve succeeded. You’re sorry. We get it. But this is as far as it can go.”

“But Chance—”

“I don’t want him filled with false hopes that will only bring him more grief. He’s had too many of those. With every failure and setback, his depression deepens, and he retreats into himself. Sometimes, I’m scared he’ll withdraw until I lose him forever.”

Ace covered her hand with his and drew it to his chest. She didn’t yank away or slap his face. He wasn’t sure why, but he wasn’t about to question his good fortune.

“He worries about you, too, Marisa, and feels rotten because your world revolves around his disability. He says he’s stolen your life.”

“There’s nothing either of us can do about that. He’s my brother, and I will always take care of him. If I could, I’d bring him home and care for him twenty-four-seven.”

But she couldn’t. Marisa had to work, and there was no one else to look after her brother. “What if we hired someone to be with him while you’re at work?”

“Can’t afford it.” She pointed at him. “And before you say any more, the answer is no. I won’t let you.”

“You’re a frustratingly independent woman, you know that?”

“You’ve said that to me a few times. You used to admire it.”

“Still do. Just not in this case.” She was wrong, and her stubbornness was making life harder for her brother.

Marisa made a face. “You’re such a guy.”

“Guilty.” He laced his fingers with hers and lifted their hands together to point toward the playground. “Want to swing?”

“Seriously?”

“We’re here. The pizza is pretty much gone. Bread sticks are cold.” And I’ve fired all my argument arrows without hitting a single bullseye. “Let’s get some exercise.”

He’d already started in the direction of the swings and was glad when she came along without a struggle.

He was going to find a way to help her and Chance. But right now, he was going to do some more softening up.

Marisa hadn’t laughed this much in months. Not since before—

She froze the thought and locked it away. For the first time in forever, she was having harmless fun, and she refused to spoil the sunny afternoon with bad memories. This wasn’t a date. It wasn’t a relationship. She could leave anytime she wanted to. Except she didn’t want to.

Once Ace stopped talking about Chance visiting the ranch, the laughs had begun. She probably should have been a little suspicious at how easily he’d capitulated. The Ace she knew didn’t give up.

They were on the swings. Ace had given her a push, teasing her to pump like a ten-year-old, and then he’d hopped into the swing next to her.

He’d joked, making silly comments about everything and kept the chatter so light, she didn’t feel the least bit uncomfortable. He was the charming Ace of old. Except he wasn’t.

If she didn’t know what she knew, she’d like this new Ace even more than the old one.

Right now, he looked ridiculous, his long, cowboy-booted legs jutting out from a child’s swing. He’d jammed his hat down so tightly, his forehead disappeared, and she could barely see his eyes.

She pointed, snorting.

He tilted his face up and peered from beneath the hat brim. With a goofy expression, he asked, “Are you laughing at me?”

She giggled. Giggled like a teenager. When was the last time she’d done that? “Not at you. With you.”

“That’s what they all say.” As if determined to make her laugh more, he stood up in the seat, a flimsy rubber device that sagged with pressure. “Watch this.”

He wobbled, unbalanced for a few seconds, and looked ridiculous and adorable, two words she’d never have associated with this prideful, macho cowboy. She wanted to hug him.

The swing began its back and forth motion. Slowly.

“I’m watching. Not impressed.” But she was grinning like a little kid.

He rocked his long, lean body and shot her a wounded look. “What did you expect? Cirque du Soleil?”

“Something like that. Dazzle me with your mad skills.”

“Okay, how about this great balancing act?” He lofted a boot to stand on one foot like a flamingo. The flaccid rubber seat shifted. The chains wobbled wildly. His boot slipped.

And Ace tumbled out, landing hard on his backside.

Marisa leaped from her swing and squatted next to him. She couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. “Are you hurt?”

He gave a wry grin. “Would you kiss it and make it better if I were?”

“Considering how you landed, that would be a no.”

He tipped his hat back and pumped a pair of wicked eyebrows. “What if I’d landed on my pretty face?”

Oh, the temptation. But he laughed, and she laughed with him.

Heart light, happy and playful in a way she hadn’t been in months, Marisa tapped his cheek. “We’ll never know, will we?”

“Now, there’s a challenge if I ever heard one.” Ace reached out, hooked her neck with an elbow and plopped her onto his lap.

She landed against his chest with a laugh and an oof. He felt familiar, muscles firm and strong from ranch work, his body warm and welcoming. Marisa didn’t want to notice, but she did. And worse, she liked being this close to him.

Ace looped a loose arm around her waist and held her, saying nothing, relaxed, his chest rising and falling in easy breaths. She leaned against his heart, soothed and oddly content.

She expected him to do something to upset her, something that would break the spell of his nearness and, more than that, his sweetness. But when he didn’t slide a hand under her shirt or kiss her neck, she relaxed and listened to his solid, steady heartbeat.

Memories of the good times flooded in. Of the times she’d mourned her alcoholic parents, and Ace had been there to hold her. Times they’d discussed the future and children and hinted at forever. Of weekends at the Triple C with his amazing family. Then there was the week she’d had the stomach flu, and Ace had slept on her couch, getting up all through the nights to tend her. No one else had ever done that. No one.

A paradigm shifted. The universe came into clear focus.

Ace hadn’t been an ogre.

Marisa squeezed her eyes shut and ached for what was lost. For Chance, of course, but also for herself and Ace.