Always Only You by Chloe Liese (z-lib.org).epub

like I have a tiny glimpse of what it’s like to be a socially fluent human. To flow
with conversation and enjoy it, instead of following it like a tennis match, trying
desperately to keep track of who served and whose turn it is to volley back.
But I’m also warm, and a little agitated, which I’ve learned by now means I
need fresh air and a few moments of quiet. Excusing myself, I step out onto the
back deck and nearly collide with Ren’s father.
“Shit!” I yelp. “I mean, shoot. I mean—”
His laugh is so like Ren’s that it makes me do a double take. “Frankie. I’m
no saint. You can curse around me.” Steadying me, he neatly steps to the side.
His hand gestures toward a chair for me to sit in.
“Oh. Um. Okay.” Awkwardly, I plop into the chair, picking up a placemat
off of the outdoor table and fanning myself. “Sorry, again, Dr. B.” It’s what I
heard both Willa and Rooney call him, so it seems like the way to go. “I wasn’t
looking where I was going.”
He waves his hand, groaning softly as he drops into a chair across from me.
“You mind if I join you? Those beasts I raised down there wore me out.”
“Be my guest,” I tell him.
“Thank you.”
I smile, watching all five of the Bergman brothers volleying a soccer ball,
trying to keep it in the air. Viggo chests it, then cracks a shot into the nearby net,
before the only brother I don’t recognize and by process of elimination is Oliver,
jogs off to scoop it up. My gaze sweeps past the lawn beyond us, sprawling and
flat, nestled among blossoms and a grove of trees a way off. Dusk is my favorite
time of day, when the sky glows peach and violet, and the air turns cool.
When I glance back over, I freeze. Dr. B’s pant leg has lifted enough to
reveal a titanium rod in place of an ankle. I stare in complete shock.
On a quiet groan, he massages the muscles right above his knee, staring out
into the yard at his sons, a soft smile warming his face. When he glances my
way, he pauses. His gaze travels my expression. “He didn’t tell you?”
I shake my head.
“My military souvenir,” he says while patting his thigh. “Gets sore after a
long day and trying to keep up with them. I’m sorry if it upset—”
“No,” I blurt.
My heart’s pounding. Why wouldn’t Ren tell me? All my hemming and
hawing about my challenges’ potential pitfalls in a relationship and he never
thought it would help for me to know he grew up seeing that kind of love
firsthand?
See? Fulfilling interabled coupledom is possible, the little Lorena on my
shoulder gloats. I’m tempted to flick her off her perch, if she weren’t a figment