On His Own Two Feet

Ethan pressed his right thumb into his left knee, feeling the muscle twitch beneath his trousers. He didn’t look at Isabella, but he heard the soft rustle of her apron as she took a step back.

The air in the ballroom was heavy with the silence of three hundred people watching, waiting for him to shrink back into the chrome frame. Brooke stood beside Chad, her hand resting on his navy sleeve, her chin lifted high.

Ethan reached down. He gripped the thick brown wool of the plaid blanket draped over his legs. With a flick of his wrist, he pushed it aside. The heavy wool bunched, slid off his knees, and hit the white marble floor in a heap.

Brooke’s eyes flicked down to the blanket. Her brow creased.

Ethan planted his right dress shoe flat against stone. The leather sole gripped the polished marble. He shifted his weight, setting his left foot down beside it. Pain shot up his shin, sharp and familiar, but he ignored it. He placed both hands on the cool armrests of the transport chair.

The right wheel gave a small, rusted squeak.

He pushed up.

His thighs burned. His left calf spasmed—a tight, rhythmic pulse jumping every four seconds—and he drove his thumb deep into the joint to force the nerve to hold. He didn’t stop. He straightened his spine, locking his knees one after the other until he reached his full height.

He stood upright.

The transport chair sat empty behind him, low and gray against the wide floor.

A woman at table four dropped her silver fork. It clattered against fine china, the sharp ringing sound echoing off the arched ceiling. Nobody moved.

Ethan took a slow breath, letting the draft from the service door cool his face. He didn’t lean on anything. He stood six feet two, looking down at Brooke for the first time in eight months.

Brooke let go of Chad’s arm. Her hand hovered in the air before she smoothed the silk fabric of her emerald gown, her knuckles pale. She looked down at his feet, then up to his eyes.

“Ethan,” she whispered, her voice carrying across the quiet room. “What are you doing? You can’t walk.”