LITMIR.BIZ

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even though he’ll never take another step. Never make another baby. Never even make love to his wife in the same way again. But he’s not moaning over his situation. He’s going about the business of living, even though he has little opportunity to get better. You do.”

      For a moment he looked as though she had struck him. He opened his mouth, then let it drop shut. Awkwardly he stood, looming over her like a sturdy oak able to survive the greatest of storms, his face flashing anger. But his eyes looked vulnerable. So very, very vulnerable.

      “I don’t need your lecture, Ms. Lewis. I’ve spent the last eight years of my life operating on sick people, many of them kids, and with every one that I lost, part of me died right with them. But I kept going because I couldn’t do anything but be a doctor. I didn’t want to be anything but a doctor. I still don’t.”

      He held up his stiff right hand. It trembled like a fragile leaf. “If you take away this, you might as well take away my legs, too.”

      With that, he pivoted around and tore back the curtain. And Brooke immediately experienced the biting pang of remorse. She’d forced him to bare his soul. Forced him to uncover a wound that was forty times the size of his scar.

      Brooke rose on shaky legs, afraid that she had totally turned him off to therapy—totally blown his world apart with her callous behavior. And in the process, she could have jeopardized her job, the most worthwhile thing in her life. But more important, she had kicked a man at his lowest point—a talented doctor whose potential was limitless and, because of one life-altering accident, was now nothing more than the shell of the man he used to be. Regardless of his bitter attitude, that was unforgivable.

      “Dr. Granger, wait,” she called out before he reached the door. Several therapists stopped their own activities and briefly gave their attention to Brooke.

      Dr. Granger halted and turned. This time his eyes looked lifeless. Dead. And something deep inside Brooke died, too.

      She joined him at the doorway and signaled him to follow her into the hall. Once there, she lowered her eyes because it was simply too painful to look at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come down on you so hard. It’s just that if you give up, it would be such a waste.”

      “Would it?”

      She looked up to find him studying her, this time with a penetrating sadness that cut to the heart. “A terrible waste. I propose you come back on Thursday, and we’ll start over again.”

      “I hate coming here.”

      “I know, but once you settle into the routine, it will get easier.”

      “Not here, with you. Here, in the hospital.”

      His hospital, Brooke thought. A place that had been a huge part of his life. A place full of reminders of what he’d once had—a brilliant career.

      Brooke certainly couldn’t blame him for being less than thrilled to return on a regular basis. She also couldn’t allow him to fall into complacency. Yet she wasn’t sure how to convince him that he needed to continue the therapy if he was frustrated by the hospital surroundings.

      A sudden thought crossed her mind. A crazy thought, but just crazy enough to work.

      “Dr. Granger, have you considered home therapy?”

      His eyes narrowed. “You mean someone coming to my house instead of me coming here?”

      “Yeah. It’s been done before.” Brooke had done it before, mostly with shut-ins. Never with a struggling, handsome doctor.

      “You’d be willing to come to my home?” he asked, surprise in his tone.

      “Well, yes. Or someone else, if you prefer.”

      “No. I’d want it to be you.”

      He seemed so adamant that she continue his therapy, Brooke was almost rendered speechless. “So you’d consider it?”

      “Maybe.”

      Brooke released the breath she’d been holding. “I’ll have to clear it with my supervisor, and we’ll need to talk with Dr. Kempner about changing the order.”

      “He’ll do it.”

      “So you’ll think about it?”

      “We’ll see.” He limped down the corridor with a slump to his shoulders, all the pride seeming to have seeped from him in a matter of moments.

      Somehow, some way, Brooke was determined to set things right, and if he agreed to the home therapy, that was a start.

      If he allowed her the opportunity to aid in his recovery, hopefully when the time came, she would walk away from him knowing that she had helped him in some small way. Walk away and never look back. But deep down, Brooke worried that walking away from Jared Granger might be easier planned than done, especially if he didn’t get better.

      Yet she had to walk away, and without any second thoughts. Becoming emotionally involved with a patient was not only taboo, but created a danger to Brooke’s emotional well-being. Leaving her heart wide open was not an option.

      Yes, Dr. Jared Granger might need her, but she would never need another man again.

      Jared Granger waited alone in Nick Kempner’s office, studying his rigid hand, his gnarled fingers. He hated sympathy of any kind, the pitying looks he received from colleagues and friends alike. Hated the fact that he was steeped in self-pity more often than not these days.

      Never had he been posed with such a challenge. Even med school and multiple residencies hadn’t gotten him down like this. Might as well admit it, he was washed up as a surgeon. Not much better off as a man. At least not at the present.

      Admitting it didn’t take away the pain, the anger. It only served to create more vile-tasting resentment that he couldn’t control.

      He also couldn’t recall the last good day he’d had, even before the accident. Three weeks ago, getting away to his farm—a place he could always count on to regroup—hadn’t eased the piercing guilt over losing a special patient, the reason why he hadn’t been paying attention to the thin piece of wire caught in the tractor shredder. The reason he’d carelessly tried to manhandle it out of the blade, causing the backlash that had sent the metal slicing across his wrist, creating the deep laceration that damaged his median nerve, then the fall that had shattered his leg. All in a few short moments of stupidity, he had ruined a career years in the making.

      He recalled twelve-year-old Kayla Brown’s death, why he’d gone to his weekend retreat in the first place. She’d been faced with rejection of her new heart and awaiting another when she’d finally given up after fighting the good fight. Jared hadn’t been able to save the young girl who had been a natural room brightener. A kid who always smiled no matter how much pain she endured or how constant the prospect of death.

      His problems were minor compared to what she had faced. So what if it took him an hour longer to brush his teeth, dress himself, pour a glass of milk? So what if he could barely manage to clean himself? He’d be damned and desperate before he would admit that to anyone. No one would understand.

      Brooke Lewis immediately came to mind—her wild, dark curls, big brown eyes, natural smile and die-hard attitude. As badly as he hated to admit it, he admired her grit as much as he admired her schoolgirl looks. She didn’t view him as anything other than a patient. He found that refreshing, since most people treated him as if he was some infallible being without a heart or feelings. No one knew the real Jared Granger, because he had never revealed much of himself; he feared that he could never live up to others’ expectations.

      The door swung open and Nick Kempner strode in, the best orthopedic doc in the business, and Jared’s closest friend. “What’s up, Granger?”

      “Not much.”

      Nick slipped out of his lab coat and tossed it and several newspapers from his seat onto the nearby sofa before sinking into the office chair. “Sorry I’m late, but I

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