The One Who Got Away — CH 17

 

Chapter 17: Beverage Guy

"Why don't you guys come over for dinner?" Stella suggested. 

Kay was on the phone with her, shopping for groceries. She unconsciously shook head, putting back a cereal box she had just picked up. "That won't work. You have stairs everywhere." 

"Oh." Stella sounded dumbfounded. "Well… can't he just —"

Kay cut her off. "No, he can't."

Silent irritation crackled from the other end. "You didn't even know what I was going to suggest."

"Doesn't matter. If it starts with ‘can't he just’, it's unrealistic."

Stella snorted softly. "So how does he get into your apartment then? There's no elevator in your building."

Kay blinked, feeling a slight pang. "Yeah," she said. "He doesn't."

There was a pause. "He doesn't?"

She rolled her eyes. "Did you think he could just switch off his paralysis whenever he wants to visit his girlfriend?" Cringing at her own tone, she pinched her nose. If she wanted to put Stella at ease about Seth, this certainly wasn't the way.

Her sister huffed into the phone. "No need to get so defensive."

"Yeah, I know," Kay muttered, walking further down the cereal aisle without actually looking at any of the products. "I'm just… really traumatized by that lunch the other day. You have no idea how much that hurt." And what a strain it put on my relationship.

Stella sighed. "I'm sorry, ok? I know our reaction wasn't… ideal." Then, a little softer: "I'm on your side, baby sis."

Kay stared at the display of chocolate spreads in front of her. ‘On your side’... Stella only ever said that when she thought her little sister was being stupid. It meant: ‘I want to protect you from your own bad choices’. It didn't mean she supported the relationship. Kay rubbed her eyes. She picked out one of the spreads and put it in her cart. Choosing to ignore Stella's comment, she said: "You only realize how inaccessible our world is once you spend time with a wheelchair user. Seth is never going to see my place. Not in person anyway."

He had seen it through her phone — she'd given him a full tour on FaceTime. But it wasn’t the same. And it never would be. Kay swallowed hard and pushed the cart forward. She wouldn’t stay in that apartment forever. That much was clear.

Stella was clearing her throat. "Well, that… sucks. Especially when it comes to spending the night."

Kay smirked at the selection of nuts and kernels in front of her, sort of amused at how little her sister knew. Good thing Stella had no idea what 'spending the night' actually entailed. If she'd known, she would've already launched a “Save Kay” campaign. 

"So what would be a good place to meet then?" Stella asked. "Some restaurant?" 

Kay had already thought about that — of course she had. Browsed her and Seth’s mind for what would be a good place to meet up with that 'Team Bench' sister of hers. Public, not too crowded. Casual. "There's that cute coffee place on Marina Plaza," she said. "Let's meet in the afternoon. We can go for dinner another time." Or any main meal, for that matter. 

"In the afternoon?" Stella hesitated. "Oh… I don’t know if I can make that. You know, the house…"

"It's a Saturday, Stel. I'm sure you'll figure something out.” 

A pause, then a reluctant huff. "Okay."

"Great,” Kay nodded to herself. "I think we could be there around three, but I'll confirm with Seth."

There was another pause. Kay could feel her sister squirming through the silence.

"Kay…"

"Yes?"

"I feel kind of like an idiot asking this, but… Is there anything I should know about, you know, dealing with him?"

Kay stopped in front of the rice shelf, one hand tightening around the cart handle. 'Dealing with him' — ugh. At least Stella was trying. "Actually, there is," she said calmly. "He's my boyfriend, Stella. The only thing that's different about him is that he can't move his body." She took a breath. "So please… just treat him like a person."

 

It was warm and sunny. Sounds of chatter, birds, and passing traffic drifted across the plaza, mingling with the soft clinking of dishes and cutlery from the outdoor café.

Kay and Seth had chosen a table in the outer row — more space for the wheelchair. They were early, of course. Kay was grateful that Seth quietly accepted her “time anxiety”, as he called it — instead of trying to talk her out of it. 

Her hand rested loosely on his forearm as she glanced at him. At her beautiful, perceptive, vulnerable, and deeply loving Seth.

The remnants of that fight three days ago still lingered between them, but gently, like something that had brought them closer together, creating a new level of trust and openness. Kay felt more seen now, more valued for the work she put into their relationship. And she understood Seth better, too; the fact that even almost two years post-injury, he was still healing in a way. And how he was still showing up for her in all the ways he could.

The way he made space for her.

The way he listened — really listened — even when her words exposed him.

The way he held her with his eyes when his arms couldn’t.

The way he let her in, even when it scared him.

The way he made room not just for her pain, but for her joy, too.

The way he was here, right now, waiting with her for a sister full of prejudice — one who didn't believe in them. In him. And he wasn’t even nervous about it.

Unlike Kay. She had specifically planned on going into this calm. Not nervous. Well, here she was: a nervous mess. 

"Is that her?" Seth pointed his chin towards the other end of the plaza. Kay followed his gaze and nodded. Her older sister was approaching the café in her usual brisk stride, high heels clacking. She was in business woman mode.

The knot in Kay's stomach — tight already — pulled even tighter. She wrapped her hands around Seth's slim upper arm, momentarily burying her face in his shoulder with a groan.

A kiss brushed the top of her head. "It's gonna be fine."

She looked up, meeting those eyes, dark deep eyes that always managed to comfort and steady her. Those eyes that never failed. And just like that, her nervousness dissipated, transforming into something else: A sense of We. This was her man. And whoever had a problem with that could go fuck themselves — Stella included. She craned her neck and placed a kiss on Seth's lips. "I love you," she whispered, then turned around to see her sister now just a few strides away from their table and seeking her gaze. Kay stood up. "Hey you." Please don't fuck this up, Stella. Please please please. 

"Hi Sis," Stella now offered a quick hug, then her eyes darted from Kay to Seth. They didn't linger any longer on him than a second. "Hi." She nervously gripped the strap of her handbag. "I'm Stella." 

"Hey Stella. I'm Seth." As always with people who were being weird around him, he didn't bat an eye at her apparent discomfort. Instead, he gave her a genuine smile.

Stella stiffly shifted on her feet, and it was clear that she was feeling awkward about a handshake being off the table here.

Kay shoved the menu toward her. "We haven't ordered yet," she said — mainly to fill the silence.

"Never been here before", Stella gladly went along with the small talk as she sat down. "Cute place." She picked up the menu card, studying it with just a little too much interest, apparently relieved to have something to focus on. "Oh, they have a nice tea selection", she murmured approvingly. 

"The Genmaicha is really good," Seth remarked. "If you're into green tea."

Stella looked up distractedly — or rather, startled. As if she had already forgotten that he could talk. "I love that one," she responded with an uneasy smile, and Kay could see she was doing that thing many people did when talking to Seth: Keeping her gaze unnaturally fixated on his face, as if the rest of him was forbidden to look at.

They ordered their drinks — Chai Latte for Kay, Iced Rooibos for Seth and Genmaicha for Stella. The young waitress was of the flustered sort. She avoided eye contact with all three of them and just nodded fervently when scribbling down their orders, never looking up. Kay sighed silently. There was always something. Every single time. Either they were unnaturally friendly, or they talked too loud, or spoke of Seth in the third person, or acted super stiff, or — like the girl right here — they were flustered. She exchanged a silent look with her boyfriend. He smirked, giving her a discreet wink. Because of course he knew what she was thinking. Knew how she was quietly getting worked up again — like always. And like always, he took the awkwardness with grace. Which still amazed her, every time.

As soon as she had the orders down, the waitress couldn’t hurry off fast enough. And because she made sure to keep her eyes down, she somehow tripped over her own feet and bumped into the back of Seth’s chair. "Are you ok?" he asked, turning his head, but she was so busy apologizing that she didn’t even hear him. After the tenth version of "I'm SO sorry", she scurried away, face bright red.

"I almost feel bad for her now," Kay remarked dryly, and she glanced at her sister. But Stella was preoccupied with something else entirely, a somewhat dumbfounded look on her face. Kay followed her gaze — and immediately understood what this was about: One of Seth’s legs had started spasming, jumping slightly — at least as far as the strap across the ankle would allow it to. Just briefly, Kay considered pressing down on the bouncing knee, but it was one of those loose spasms Seth didn't even register, and it wasn’t causing him any discomfort, so she let it be. 

Across from her, Stella's gaze bore into her like a laser beam. She was probably hoping for some kind of clue — or cue. Kay gave her a short, pointed look. No, I'm not gonna fill the silence for you. She put on her sunglasses, coolly leaning back in her chair. 

Stella had no other option but to eventually turn to Seth, again doing that face-fixating thing with her eyes. "It's so good to finally meet you", she said. "I've been hearing about you for a decade."

An unreadable look momentarily crossed Seth’s face, and one corner of his lips twitched. "Actually, I've realized that we've met before," he said after a small pause. "Years ago, at Kay’s 25th birthday party."

Kay arched an eyebrow at her boyfriend — this was news to her, too. But then again, her 25th birthday had happened eight years ago, which was basically the Stone Age. And it had ended with a lot of Tequila. So she might just as well have forgotten.

Stella, for her part, looked utterly confused — her face one big question mark. "25th birthday?"

"It was that party where I rented the cabin next to the woods," Kay said to help her out. "It was a really hot night… Oh, and I think you had to leave early because of some job trip the next day."

Seth nodded, looking at Stella. "We talked only briefly when you were on your way out. I'm not sure we even exchanged names. I certainly didn't know that you were Kay's sister."  

Kay knew that, unlike Seth with his photographic memory, her sister was hopeless at remembering people — and even worse with faces. For a long moment, Stella continued to look clueless, her brow knitted in confusion. But then her eyes suddenly widened and her jaw dropped. "Beverage Guy," she uttered, more to herself, then she quickly cleared her throat. "You were the guy hauling in all the crates with the drinks."

"That's right." Seth smiled — and only Kay noticed the subtle tension in his jaw.

Stella was staring at him, frozen, a whole set of emotions moving across her face in the span of one second. And Kay knew exactly why: Her sister had just had an image flash before her inner eye — the image of a tall, broad-shouldered Adonis carrying around heavy boxes; a Greek God walking the earth. Even someone not good at remembering faces would remember that guy. And then apparently store the mental snapshot attached to some cheesy nickname.

The awkward silence now stretching between the three of them didn't bother Kay in the slightest — she welcomed it. She stayed quiet, watching her sister closely. Waiting. 

Guilt flashed across Stella's face. Yup, Kay thought, not without satisfaction. You just realized he's actually a man. That I'm not in love with a personified wheelchair — I'm in love with THAT guy.

And then she saw Stella look at Seth. Really look at him for the first time. Her gaze finally left his face, furtively taking in his body; the unmoving limbs, the way they rested in the chair. And the overwhelm on her face gave way to something else entirely: Clarity.

Kay nodded unconsciously. This was the moment Stella saw Seth's disability for what it truly was: A once-strong body that no longer worked — nothing more, nothing less. 

It was Seth who eventually broke the silence, still looking at Stella. "I had longer hair back in those days. So it’s no wonder you didn't recognize me just now." 

And then his straight face broke into one of those disarming, irresistible, dimpled grins of his. 

God, Kay thought, gazing at her boyfriend, can you actually make me fall in love with you even more?

For a fraction of a second, Stella just stared at him. Then a hesitant smile formed — and a moment later, all three of them burst into laughter. Kay could practically see the tension melt from her sister’s body, and she smiled to herself. 

Welcome to Seth Bell, Stella.

 

Stella seemed much more at ease after that. And while Kay was glad for it, there was a faintly bitter aftertaste, knowing it probably would’ve taken her much longer to get to this point if she hadn’t suddenly remembered able-bodied Seth. Then again, Kay had yet to meet a person he couldn't put at ease with the friendly calmness he exuded. Plus, that smile.

Kay let him and Stella do most of the talking — this was about the sister and the boyfriend getting to know each other, after all. As the conversation went on, Stella seemed to forget more and more about the wheelchair and Seth’s inability to move, and she seemed more like her usual self. Only occasionally did her gaze flick away awkwardly, before creeping back again — like when Kay helped him with his tea, or when he tilted his chair back for a short pressure relief. But with time, even those furtive looks started to shift. From uneasy to curious. From guarded to open.

"You live up on Pinehill, right?" Seth asked. "Very nice area."

Stella nodded, her face lighting up at the mention of her home. "We got lucky. I always dreamed of living in one of those properties, and my husband happened to know someone who was selling."

"Their house is gorgeous," Kay nodded. "I always say it's like visiting the set of a cheesy rom-com."

The older sister rolled her eyes, chuckling. "I actually wanted to invite you both over today," she told Seth. "But Kay said it wouldn't be… accessible."

Seth gave Kay a side glance, because yes, she hadn’t even told him about that invitation. "Ah." He looked back at Stella, his left shoulder rising in a shrug. "That tends to be the case a lot."  

Noticing the guilty look on Stella's face, he offered her a smile. "Not your fault. There were significantly fewer wheelchair users in Victorian times — back when those houses were built."

"I wonder why that is," Stella mused. "It's not like people had fewer accidents back then, is it?"

"No." Seth shook his head. "It's because if someone had a spinal injury back then, they usually just died." 

Stella’s face fell — another thing she’d probably never considered, now hitting with full force. 

Kay cleared her throat gently. "Good thing medicine’s come a long way since then." She gave her boyfriend a soft, loving look. "Now they just need to figure out the healing part."

Stella was quiet, pointedly focusing on pouring herself more tea. She looked a little embarrassed, clearly at a loss for words, so Kay jumped in, steering the conversation away with a casual, "I feel like ordering something sweet. Anyone with me?"

They opted for carrot cheesecake, and Stella watched with interest as Kay and Seth shared a piece. At one point a bit of cream landed on his chin when Kay miscalculated the angle of the fork, and they both laughed as she wiped it off. Seth gave that subtle, sexy chin movement of his — the one that said he wanted a kiss, and she leaned up quickly, planting her lips on his with a grin. 

"So," Stella asked, after silently observing them for a while, "how did the two of you first meet, anyway?" 

Kay stared at her. "Jesus, Stel," she groaned. "Do you ever listen to anything I say? I've told you that story at least three times over the last ten years."

Seth laughed. "Must be one hell of a story."

"Well, apparently not — if my own sister keeps forgetting it."

Stella held up her hands. "Sorry, but you tend to lose yourself in details when you tell me stuff. So it’s not exactly easy to keep track of all of all those stories."

Kay gave her a look. "All those stories, Stella? Really?"

The sister smirked, then turned to Seth. "I don't think I'll get anything out of her, she's too busy being a pain in my a— Ow!" She winced as a sisterly punch landed on her shoulder. "So would you do me the favor of telling me how you first met my sister?"

He offered a cheeky grin. "I just hope my story matches up with hers."

"It was during college, right?" Stella asked.

Kay, mid-bite on the last piece of carrot cheesecake, held up a finger. "Only I was still in college," she said through a mouthful. "He's a few years older than me."

"You shush,” Stella said with a grin. "I'm asking Seth now."

He laughed, apparently very entertained by the sisterly bickering. "The agency I worked for at the time was doing a charity project where we built houses for disadvantaged families," he began. “And I was responsible for the planning on site. As well as coordinating and supervising the volunteers." With a smile, he pointed his chin in the direction of his girlfriend, "One of which was your sister." He and Kay shared an intimate gaze for a second, then he turned back to Stella. "So. It was the very first morning of the project. I got to the building site an hour before the volunteers were supposed to show up, so I was surprised when I wasn't the first one to arrive. It was cold and foggy, and I just saw this lone figure standing in the field, cursing loudly." He made a dramatic pause, and Kay buried her face in her hands. "So I went closer, half expecting a homeless person or some partygoer who had gotten lost on their way home. But when I stood before them, I realized it was just a girl, stuck in the mud." 

Kay wiped a tear from her eye — she couldn’t stop laughing.

Across the table, Stella remarked, "Yep, that sounds exactly like something she'd do." 

"She couldn’t decide whether she wanted to be annoyed by the mud or try to make a good impression," Seth went on. "One minute she was introducing herself and listing half of her résumé, the next she started cursing again, desperately trying to pull her feet out." He grinned. "It was really cute."

Putting her hand on his arm, Kay shook her head, laughing. "I knew he was sort of my boss for the project, and I didn’t want him thinking I was some spoiled bimbo who had a problem with getting dirty. But my feet were really fucking cold in that mud, so…" She gave him a smitten look. "You were the epitome of graciousness when you offered me your hand and pulled me out." Her eyes flicked down — not on purpose, just reflex. To where her hand now rested on his unresponsive forearm. Seth’s gaze followed hers.

Stella had a whimsical grin on her face. "Well Seth," she drawled after a pause, dramatically leaning back in her chair. "That's almost exactly how I remember Kay telling it."

Kay's dropped. "Oh you sneaky little…" She practically lunged across the table to land another punch on Stella's shoulder. "I fucking should have known!"

Stella held her shoulder, laughing. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist. It's too much fun getting you riled up." Then she turned to Seth, her tone lightening. "Besides, it was interesting hearing your side. I was never quite sure if Kay made it out to be more romantic than it actually was — but now I might be convinced." She gave her sister a wink. 

"Well, it wasn't romantic back then," Kay said, blushing. "Only in hindsight."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself," Stella shrugged. "All I know is, one day you started telling me about that new friend of yours — and you basically haven't shut up about him ever since."

Blushing even more, Kay shared a loving look with her chuckling boyfriend, then leaned up to give him a quick kiss. "Guilty as charged, I guess."

"Yet you guys never dated," Stella remarked thoughtfully.

Seth nodded, his eyes still resting affectionately on Kay. "Even though we actually liked each other, right?"

Kay grinned. "Oh yeah. I mean, what was not to like?" She gave him a flirtatious wink. "But I didn't want to like you in that way."

When he raised a teasing eyebrow, she shrugged. "Not least because we were both in relationships at the time. We started out with that friendly co-worker vibe and just… became closer in a purely platonic way. I guess I kind of kept myself on that course by default, you know?"

Seth nodded. "I do. Same."

Meanwhile, Stella was resting her chin on her hand, watching the exchange with a content smile. "Well," she sighed, "better late than never." 

Kay turned to look at her, unable to fully hide her amazement. 

Her sister gave her a genuine smile.

Kay swallowed, suddenly feeling emotional. Just a few days ago, Stella hadn’t been able to say a single good thing about this new relationship — her view clouded by ableist prejudice. And now here she was, sitting across from them with a level of approval in her eyes that Kay had never seen with any of her previous boyfriends.

It felt almost miraculous. Then again, she should’ve known. This was Seth, after all.

The sisters ordered another round — this time with alcohol, because it was after five and therefore officially cocktail time. Seth took only a sip of Kay’s martini, otherwise sticking with his tea.

Stella leaned in, genuinely curious now, asking more about his career and what had drawn him to architecture in the first place. When he began talking about the project he was currently working on, Kay saw that flicker again. The one Seth always called “disability unease”. It flashed across Stella’s face like a glitch in the system.

"So, you, uh…," she started, voice faltering. "You still…"

Knowing exactly what she was trying not to say, Seth nodded calmly. "Yes, I still work." He gave a small shrug. "Or, again, to be exact — I went back about six months ago."

Stella nodded, looking embarrassed. "Oh. That’s great."

But there was still a question mark on her face. And again, Seth helped her out."There’s excellent voice command and eye-tracking software now — even for design work.”

"It's really cool," Kay said. "Kind of sci-fi."

She loved watching Seth work. She couldn’t even explain why, exactly — but there was something ridiculously sexy about the calm, concentrated way he navigated those programs with such precision. All with just his eyes. 

"You know", Stella remarked teasingly. "You guys should go into business together. Haven't there been some successful architect couples before?"

Kay snorted. "No thanks." 

Her dry tone made Seth laugh. "Should I feel hurt?"

"No, I just can't envision being partners in life and in work," Kay smirked. "Imagine going to bed at night and having to bicker about investors and schedules."

"Well," Seth said with mock severity, "I guess that means I'm going to cancel the—"

He abruptly lost his voice mid-sentence when a spasm hit his trunk, stealing the air before he could finish. Kay saw him tense in discomfort, his gaze turning inward as the upper part of his body — along with his arms — began shaking with fine, rhythmic vibrations.

From the other side of the table, there was a soft gasp. Stella looked visibly alarmed, and she mouthed to Kay: "Is he ok?"

Kay responded with a nod. He wasn't exactly ok, that was putting it too positively. But it also wasn’t anything to worry about. She turned back to Seth, watching closely as the tremble in his muscles went on for a few more seconds before it stopped. It took him a moment to catch his breath, his shoulders heaving, and she leaned over. "Want me to get Brian?" she whispered, glancing across the café, where the PCA was sitting at a single table, reading a book. 

Seth shook his head, and that was enough to put Kay at ease. She turned back to her sister, who still looked a little rattled. 

"My boss's former agency partner is also his ex-wife," Kay said, picking up the thread from before. "There are all kinds of stories floating around the office about what a disaster that was."

It was obvious that Stella was only half-listening. Her eyes kept darting toward Seth’s hand — the left one, of course. Lately, it had developed a habit of flipping over. Which had happened now, after it had gone rigid during the spasm. It hung limply from the armrest, in that odd angle it sometimes landed in. Without interrupting her story, Kay casually repositioned it so his palm rested on the cushioned surface again.

All the while, she could still feel her sister’s gaze. She didn't like that look — because it wasn’t a curious one. It was… something else. Kay had seen it on strangers' faces. Discomfort. Pity.

Of course Seth noticed the stare, too. He rejoined the conversation — still a little short of breath. He didn’t have the air to speak loudly, which was not ideal in a crowded café full of background chatter. Twice in a row, Stella leaned in but still couldn't catch what he said over the clatter around them. He didn’t try a third time. And while he kept his expression neutral, Kay could tell he was becoming frustrated with his body.

Stella, in turn, looked embarrassed for having embarrassed him. The relaxed atmosphere had slipped, just like that. Like so often. It only ever seemed to take this little.

But Kay kept going, refusing to let it stall. She pulled up an anecdote from their childhood.

"Remember how we always had to yell at Grandma whenever we were in a public place with her? She never understood a word."

Stella laughed despite herself, nodding. "It was like she went completely deaf the second there was background noise."

"And you were always so mortified by it," Kay teased. "Because you were deep in your awkward-teenager phase."

Stella rolled her eyes, and Kay snickered. "You wanted to be left alone all the time." She turned to Seth. "Talk to the hand" — that was her favorite line."

He chuckled, and Stella scoffed. "Maybe that was because my little sister wouldn't shut up and kept babbling at me all day and night."

"She still does that," Seth remarked, his voice fuller now. Kay glanced at him, finding that he was looking at her with quiet affection. She knew what his eyes were saying: Thank you.

They stayed at the café for almost another hour.

When it was time to say goodbye, the sisters gave each other a hug. It was longer this time, and much more affectionate than the one at Stella's arrival.

Then Stella turned to Seth, awkwardly clasping her hands. "This was really nice. Let's do it again sometime." 

He smiled, nodding. "Let's."

Kay almost wished her sister had had the courage to give him a hug too — or at least touch his shoulder.

But the smile Stella gave him was warm and sincere, and that alone was already more than Kay had dared to hope for.

As her sister walked away to her car, Kay slung her arms around Seth's neck from behind. "What do you think?" she asked, placing a kiss on his cheek. 

Seth turned his head towards her. "I think," he said, his nose playfully nudging her, "it's gonna be fine."

On to Chapter 18

The One Who Got Away — CH 18

 

Chapter 18

Part One: The Look

Just when Kay got home, her phone rang. Stella. She took a sip from her glass of water, then picked up. "Hey."

"He's a really great guy."

Kay exhaled softly. "I know."

"And..." Stella said, her voice tinged with guilt. "You make a lovely couple."

Swallowing, Kay walked to her couch. She sat down, the water glass still in her hand. No words came out for some reason; there were too many of them and none at all. She felt torn between relief, dissolving tension and emotional whiplash.

From the other end, Stella exhaled quietly. "I don't think I've ever seen you this happy with anyone."

Kay leaned back. "Which is exactly what I was telling you the other day. And you didn’t believe me."

"I get it," her sister said quickly. "And… I guess I really do owe you a real apology."

The last bit made Kay nod. Stella had said sorry during their last phone call — but back then, it had been clear that she hadn't truly known what the apology was for. "Well," she murmured. "I’m glad you’ve seen the light."

Stella snorted a chuckle. "Yeah, I guess I was clueless, wasn’t I?"

Kay shrugged. "It’s okay to be clueless. I was when Seth and I first reunited. What’s not okay is being dismissive of someone just because they have a disability."

From the other end, she could hear Stella squirm. "I never personally met any… disabled people before," she admitted. "At least not with a disability this…"

"Severe?"

Stella huffed softly. "Yeah." After a pause, she added, awkwardly: "I just couldn’t imagine anyone falling in love with… someone like that."

Obviously. Kay’s fingers tapped the glass she was holding. "And now?"

"Now that I’ve met Seth, I can understand it. I mean, he’s honestly… kind of wonderful. I guess it’s secondary that he’s in a wheelchair."

Kay snorted softly. "Which, again, is what I was trying to tell you already last week."

"I know," Stella said firmly. "Yes. Which is why I’m sorry. I should’ve trusted you when you said all those things."

"You know," Kay said after a pause. "I wasn’t really offended about you trying to look out for me. What got me furious was how you talked about him. You didn’t ask anything about him as a person. You just assumed that a quadriplegic was all he is. Do you realize how hurtful that is?"

Stella swallowed audibly. "I hope you didn’t tell him what we said."

Kay scoffed. "I didn’t need to. He could more than imagine." The memory of their fight tightened her heart, and she blinked, setting the water glass down on the coffee table. "And you know what? He wasn’t even half as offended as I was. That’s how used he is to people overlooking him as a person." Kay couldn't fully hold back the tremble in her voice as emotions — grief — surged in her chest. She took a breath.

Stella spoke up gently. "He seems so… well adjusted with it all."

Now Kay couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah." She held back from saying what she really wanted to: that what Stella saw as "well adjusted" was just survival — and it cost Seth something every single day.

“You wouldn’t believe the shit he has to put up with every day,” she said instead. "Including condescension and ignorance from strangers."

Stella made a hissing sound. "I hope I didn’t make a complete ass of myself today."

Kay smiled with a shrug. "You did fine."

Stella hesitated. "I was impressed by how well you seemed to know how to deal with his… issues."

"Go ahead," Kay said, smirking to herself. "You can ask."

Of course her sister played innocent. "Ask what?"

With a chuckle, Kay rolled her eyes slightly. "I know you have questions about his disability."

"Okay…" Stella cleared her throat. "That seizure — was that…?"

"No seizure," Kay interrupted her. "Spasms."

"I mean when he was shaking all over his body and his arms went all…"

Kay nodded. "Yes. Muscle spasms. Nothing dangerous."

"Oh." Stella said quietly. And then: "It looked really painful."

Instinctively biting her lip, Kay shifted on the couch, pulling up one knee. "It can be. Though he doesn't feel most of it."

Stella hesitated. "How much can he feel?"

Kay ran a hand through her hair, lingering on her ponytail, pulling slightly. "He can feel everything from the shoulders up."

Another silence. "But nothing below that?"

The quiet ache pulling at Kay’s chest shouldn't have been there still. Not after all this time. But it was. "No," she said. "Nothing below that."

When Stella stayed silent instead of responding, Kay snorted dryly. "Yeah. It sucks."

A soft exhale came from the other end before Stella spoke. "For both of you."

Kay blinked. She didn't want it to be true, but yes: It sucked for her, too. Because even if Seth reached a state where he was comfortable with her touch below injury, that touch would always stay what it was — one-sided not only in gesture, but also in feeling. She swallowed. "At least I can feel him," she said. "So it sucks less on my end."

Stella snorted softly into the phone. "Yeah but… he can't touch you back. I mean…" She trailed off. "Forget it, I don't want to sound insensitive again."

"No.” Kay reached for her glass with a shrug. "Go ahead."

The older sister cleared her throat. "Don't you miss being held by your man?"

Kay couldn't help but smile a little. ‘Your man’. "Of course I miss it," she said. "How could I not?" Putting her glass back on the table, she straightened up. "But Stella, the thing is… There's only one Seth. And he can't hold me. So… it is what it is."

A speechless second passed before Stella replied. "You really love him."

Exhaling, Kay nodded. "And he loves me."

"Oh yeah," Stella affirmed without missing a beat. "That's plenty obvious."

Kay smiled, thinking of Micah. ‘Any random idiot’. She looked at her watch. "Listen, I need to hang up. I’m going to spend the night at Seth's house, and my apartment is a mess. Should do some cleaning before I leave."

Of course she could hear the unspoken question from Stella's end, the one that had undoubtedly formed into specifics now — the question about what "spending the night" meant. The other day, Stella had been too clueless to even consider it. Now though, she was wondering, a hundred questions probably running through her head. I know the feeling, Kay thought, as she stood up.

"Uhm," Stella finally murmured, taking an audible breath. "How do you guys—"

"I'm not gonna go there with you, Stel."

"Okay. Fair enough."

"Yep." Kay had never been one to lay out her sex life to her sister, and she certainly wasn't going to start now. Besides, there was no sex life to lay out — not yet. Which bugged her more than she was willing to admit to herself. To Seth. She knew it was going to happen, no question. But how and when? No clue. Should she be the one to initiate it? Or have another conversation about how they were going to navigate that? She didn't want to put pressure on him, but she also wondered if anything was going to happen at all if she didn't press a little.

Either way — the wait was becoming harder to bear with every night Kay spent over there. Of course there was intimacy between them — lots of it. They kissed, they cuddled. But all of that always left Kay longing, aching, yearning for him in the most painful way — deliciously painful, yes, but still without release, without the option to have him, fully and completely. And God, did she want him. More than ever. 

She cleaned the kitchen. The bathroom, The bedroom. And then she cleaned some more. It felt like it wasn’t just dust and dirt she needed to get rid of, but also the tension that had built up over the past few days. Tension that was now finally starting to peel off her. She hadn't felt like she needed her sister's approval to be with Seth, much less her permission. And she still didn't. But hearing something like the beginning of comprehension in Stella’s voice felt… freeing — even if Kay didn’t want it to, and even though she still wondered how much "Beverage Guy" had to do with it. Stella had seen Seth. Not Seth the quad, but Seth the guy. And that was what counted right now. So here she was, cleaning like the dust that had settled on her furniture lately was finally allowed to lift.

By the time she’d finished cleaning, Kay felt like she had just shed a layer of skin. 

She stepped into the shower and let the hot water run down her body, steam filling the air. And just like the cleaning had been more than clearing her living space, the water on her face washed away more than sweat.

When she got out, the apartment felt calm again. And for the first time in days, so did she.

She packed what she needed for the night, grabbed her keys, and headed out — the sun low behind her as she drove to Seth's house.

At first, it was just another night, nothing out of what was becoming a loved routine. They ate dinner. Brian told a funny story about his aunt's cat who stole the neighbor’s dentures. They sat on the patio until it got dark and the air became slightly chilly. Kay took care of the dishes, Seth and Brian did their usual bedtime-routine, the one he still didn't let her see. She went to the bathroom to get herself ready for bed, then watched some TV in the living room while the door to Seth's room stayed closed. 

It was after Brian came out and she got in that Kay realized: tonight was different. She knew the moment she stepped into the bedroom, the moment she saw Seth lying there. He wasn't on his side, like he usually was for sleeping, but on his back, head slightly raised. The splint he wore on his left hand every night was missing. And he was covered only by a sheet. But more than anything, it was the look in his dark eyes.

A look she hadn't seen in years. A look that not only tingled on her skin but also reached a deeper part of her body. A look that went beyond feeling. 

It was the same look Seth had had in his eyes six years ago, when he had sat on her couch in that tiny one-room apartment of hers; that night everything had started. Here it was again: Longing. Burning. Shy. Asking. Knowing. She had missed it so much.

Kay swallowed, her mouth dry. Without saying a word — because just like six years ago, her brain was once again emptied of all intelligence – she went over to him, holding his gaze while her body quietly squirmed under it. She eased herself onto the bed, moved in close — slowly, as if even her breath might break the moment. Her hand was on his cheek as she licked her lips, and Seth blinked once — his gaze steady. The kiss was tender at first, almost tentative. Seth's lips lingered on hers with gentle pressure for a moment, holding, savoring — then they parted and he pulled her in with that quiet, patient intensity that only he could pull off and that made her eyes flutter as warm electricity filled her body. The feeling built quickly into more, like it always did — a throbbing deep inside, an ache that felt both sweet and unbearable. She ran her hand into his hair, kneading, then at some point found herself lifting his head so she could hold him closer, dig her fingers into the back of his neck.

A faint tremble in his abdomen made her pause — their mouths parting for just a second as she gently lowered his head back down. His eyes opened again. Holding. Burning more now, asking less. "Give me your neck," he said — voice low and a little breathless, but in the good kind.

Kay closed her eyes with a shudder as she turned her head to the side. His lips found the soft spot behind her ear, his tongue wandering down her neck until he whispered, "Higher," and she moved up to give him access to the rest of her neck — all the while writhing under the cascade of goosebumps and heat rushing through her. All he had was his mouth, but God, it felt like he was everywhere.

"I need to sit up more," he murmured at some point, apparently reaching the limits of what he could do with gravity keeping his head down. 

Kay reached for the control remote — no time to sip and puff right now. Seth's left knee kicked her in the hip when the head of the bed went up. "Ow."

An adorable flash of awkwardness flickered up in his face. "Sorry." 

Which made her lean for another kiss while his upper body was still going up. "You're slipping," she remarked teasingly, putting a steadying hand on his chest as she pushed the button to stop the process.

"Who cares," he said with a lopsided grin, and he tested if he was able to lift his head by himself now — he could. "Come here."

Gladly. Kay pushed herself up, moving one leg across his hip, then slid on top of his thighs, straddling him. She leaned in, grabbing his face to kiss him, losing herself in his mouth again for a moment. But now he had more control, and he soon moved back to her neck, further down. Heat rushed through her as his lips, his tongue, found every sweet spot — every millimeter of skin that responded to him. 

With a moan, she pulled back. Straightened, looked at him. For a short moment, she hesitated, a flicker of nervousness and apprehension causing her to take a breath. But his eyes, holding hers, was all she needed. Wordlessly, she pulled her t-shirt over her head. 

Seth went still. Stopped breathing for a moment, before his auxiliary muscles flexed with the sudden intake of air. He didn't say anything, just stared at her, taking her in, eyes roaming over her body with almost incredulous wonder. He had looked at her like that in the past — every time they'd had sex, really. But it had never been with this restrained longing, with this raw vulnerability. And then, as their eyes met again — the hint of a spark, a twitch in his lips that said not only awe, but also want.

Kay smiled, shifting closer. It wasn’t just desire pulling her in — it was the quiet weight of every kiss, every long night, every step they’d taken to get here. She leaned in, one hand bracing on the headboard, the other once again finding Seth's neck. She didn't tease him, because this was no game, not today. When his lips were on her breasts, first softly, then with passion, she let out a low gasp, her hand holding steady behind his neck to support the angle he needed. He pressed in harder, and she felt him exhale against her skin — not just breath, but something heavier. Like a shudder. Like a homecoming. Kay clung to him, her fingers kneading the back of his neck with new emotion. It was a surge of love, so much love, and a silent release of all the longing and yearning that she would never have the right words for. Letting go of the headboard, she murmured the only thing she could — formed both as a sigh and a question: "Seth."

He looked up. Then looked down at his right hand that she had picked up and was now holding in hers mid-air, hovering, asking. She saw him lick his lips, saw the way his breath caught ever so slightly before his eyes met hers again, and he did something he only ever did when words failed him — a deeply ingrained muscle memory from his early rehab days, maybe: a blink. A silent ‘Go ahead’. 

She guided his hand to her chest, cupping it in hers as she pressed it to her breast, moving his fingers over her hard nipple — ignoring, no, welcoming the slight spasm that rippled through them. She let it become part of the moment, just like the tremble in those silent muscles was part of him. Kay bit down on her lip, a low hum escaping her throat. She let her eyes close for a second, applying more pressure, guiding his hand to squeeze. “It feels so good, Seth,” she breathed, opening her eyes to look at him. He was staring at his hand with an expression that said so many things at once. Processing. Grief. Trust. Amazement. Fire. 

Slowly, Kay slid it further down, towards her belly. And even though it was her guiding the gesture, it made her shudder as if it was him. She glanced back at him, pausing, checking. 

He looked back, and this time, he didn't blink. His voice was quiet, almost rough, like it was coming from somewhere deep inside. "Lower."

Kay's breath caught — not from surprise, but from how fully the word wrapped around her. All he needed to do was say it, and she came undone. Her eyes stayed transfixed on his face, watching him watch. Seeing how the amazement in his eyes became desire, how his lips slightly parted as she moved all the way down to her waist. As she slid both their hands under her panties, she pushed up on her knees — to reach better, but also for him to fully see. And then she gasped, her thighs trembling. "Fuck, Seth."

His eyes flicked up to her face, then back down to her groin. "Are you wet?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"How wet?"

The throbbing between her legs was so strong, the pressure of his fingers made it hard to speak. "So wet that my panties are soaked," she breathed shakily, her hip automatically starting to move.

"Take them off."

And where the throbbing had been strong before, the quiet demand in his voice made the ache unbearable. It felt like she couldn't rush enough as she climbed off of him to tug them down. The urgency of lust had her now, the need to feel him more, to release through him. Free of the panties, she came back to him, knees braced as she eased herself over his thighs. She took Seth's hand again — moaning when she slid herself over his fingers. For a second, it stunned her that this was happening — that he had made it happen.

Heat and shivers travelled up her body. She was unraveling, each grind and gasp loosening the thread a little more. Her breath was nothing but gasps now. Her eyes found Seth's again. In them, she saw a reflection of what she herself was completely taken over by: pleasure. Only that his was not urgent, but quiet, open. As she kept moving, writhing, grinding around his fingers inside her, her free hand went to his face, cupping it. He leaned into the touch, his eyes steadily on hers, anchoring her while her breath quickened – she was close now. Her thumb moved to his parted lips, and it was when he bit down on it that she went over the edge. The orgasm rippled through her hard, waves of seemingly endless release. 

Her body trembled, hips stilling slowly, as something inside her settled. She didn't open her eyes right away. Didn’t need to. Her hand was still on his cheek, and his face was warm beneath her palm — present, steady, still. As her breath slowly calmed and her vision cleared — maybe from daze, maybe from tears — she looked again, really looked. Seth's face was flushed now, breath uneven, the top of his shoulders rising in bursts. For a second, Kay worried he was having AD or something. "Are you ok?" she asked, but his glowing eyes said it before he even replied, voice rough. "Yes," he rasped. "Kiss me."

And Kay realized, a grin spreading across her face as she leaned in: this was not a flare of discomfort, not at all. It was the opposite.

Part Two: Serious Tilt

Kay kissed him, and it answered his hunger — fast, hot, all-consuming.

Her lips, her weight, the scent of her skin — yes, this. Her fingertips ran down the sides of his neck slowly, like burning feathers, and Seth closed his eyes.

He hadn’t gone into this night with a clear vision of what it would look like — not for him, not for Kay. Everything about it was new territory, so he hadn’t really known what to expect. Just that it would probably be careful, maybe awkward, maybe even clumsy. And that, in the end, nothing might come of it at all.

He hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected Kay to come undone like that, from the little he had to offer. 

But most of all, Seth hadn’t expected what it would do to him. He’d always known it would be different on every level — and it was. But he’d never imagined that different could also be good. The desire in her eyes, the urgency of her touch where he could feel it… and most of all: how she had unravelled more with each minute, squirming not only from what he gave, but from what she took — of him. She wanted him. Not an idea of him. Him. He had heard her say it before, in other words, in other ways. But now — now he felt it. Understood it. And that truth leveled him.

Still, for a brief moment, watching his own hand on Kay's body had felt foreign — abstract, even jarring. Only the visual reaching him, not the warmth of her skin, or the softness of her breasts, nor anything else. 

But then, quickly, being there with her — witnessing every squirm, every gasp, every hungry glance — became bigger than lack and absence. More powerful. And then, with her climax, it had happened — the one thing he had never expected. A wave of pulsating heat, pushing from somewhere deep inside of him, a surge of visceral desire rushing up his neck. It wasn’t the kind of turned-on he’d known before the injury — how could it be. There was no urgency for release — he knew there wouldn't be one. But he still felt it — was feeling it now. The need to have her. To feel her. To lose himself in this.

"Tell me what feels good," Kay whispered now, her lips drifting from his mouth toward his neck. 

Seth inhaled her scent — that heady mix of sex, perfume, and something unmistakably her. "You," he murmured with a smile. "You feel incredible."

She giggled softly, her breath touching his skin — playful and irresistible — and it completely undid him. "What about this?" she whispered, and let both hands thread through his hair, filling every inch of his scalp with her fingertips. "God, yes," he sighed — and then shuddered at the feel of a wet kiss beneath his jawline. Then another. And another. Her fingers still kneading his hair. Seth surrendered to it, let himself melt. Sensory overload — the best kind. He could feel so little of his body, but what he could feel — God, did he feel it right now.

Kay moved lower, her mouth trailing to the back of his neck. When her tongue flicked just below his earlobe, a moan escaped him. "This," he whispered. "Stay there."

She stayed. Her mouth moved in slow, wet circles just beneath his ear, tongue teasing, lips grazing, and it lit a fuse in him that had nowhere to go — only burn. "Bite me," he rasped, without even thinking.

She exhaled — sharp, hot. Surprised maybe — and then she bit. Her teeth around his earlobe, sharp, gently pressing. It was a sweet pain, giving him an outlet he hadn't known he needed. Cutting into everything he couldn’t say, couldn’t feel, couldn’t have. In his mind, his arms pulled her close, hands gripping her ass. "More," he whispered. "Suck on it." And when she did, he let go of every image — just felt. Here. Now. 

Maybe it was the sound he made — or just the way his breath caught — but her lips paused, pulling back. She looked at him, her expression soft, a faint line creasing her brow. “Still good?” she asked.

"Yeah," he breathed. "More than good."

Her hand landed on his cheek, thumb stroking. The line on her forehead disappeared, and the glow of love in her eyes was even sweeter than the pain of her bite had been. She grinned. "So... You've got one big hickey on that ear now."

He raised an eyebrow. "Think we could make it symmetrical, at least?"

Kay laughed, warm and breathy. "That can be arranged."

Her mouth returned to him, not only to that other ear, but further, exploring, mapping him. They found another sweet spot — the upper edge of his collarbone, on the left side. She took her time with it, trailing her tongue along every inch, lingering whenever he sighed, gasped, squirmed. "I love this," she mumbled between two kisses, and Seth knew she meant it. Her curiosity — how much she wanted to know him — was almost better than the touches themselves.

Her lips suddenly felt prickly on his skin. She had just moved below his clavicle — into the grey zone, where sensation blurred: a strange, shifting mix of hypersensitivity and numbness. Seth flinched involuntarily. "Different," he mumbled.

Kay lifted her head. "Different good, or different bad?"

"Not sure," he said with a shrug. Then, after a beat: "Do it again."

She gave him a funny look, then bent back down, her breath brushing his shoulder. And… nothing. "I think you're too low now." He smirked.

"Oh," Kay breathed, sheepish. "Oops." She placed one more kiss there anyway — deliberate — then trailed back up. This time, the contact was clearer. A sharp, tingling pull — somewhere between too much and not enough. And then his arm spasmed, dragging his shoulder down. His body slumped left — but Kay was already there, steadying him. "Yeah," she smiled lopsidedly, "you've been in a serious tilt for a while now."

Seth looked down. She was right — his whole posture was off. He smiled sheepishly. "I didn't notice."

Kay tilted her head, amused. "I take that as a good sign."

"You should."

She pushed herself up on her knees and hooked her arms around his shoulders, trying to pull him straighter with a small grunt — to little success. An adorable scowl appeared on her brow, one that made him smile. "Leave it," he said. "It doesn't matter."

Kay raised a teasing eyebrow. "Not sure your body would agree."

"My body doesn't know what it's talking about."

They both laughed. Their eyes met — and held. A long, quiet look passed between them, full of warmth. When Kay spoke again, her voice was softer, quieter. "Look at us," she said with a smile, shaking her head slightly. "We're actually here." 

Seth held her eyes — not searching, just knowing. "Yes," he said softly, nodding. "We are."

She leaned in, hands to his cheeks, and they kissed — long and slow. Both of them lost for more words. Kay settled back on his lap, slinging her arms around his neck, holding him. He buried his nose in the nape of her neck, breathing, resting. 

At some point, she gasped softly, and she pulled back, surprised by something that was beyond his perception. He looked at her quizzically. "What?”

She hesitated, glancing down to where she was straddling him, then shrugged with an awkward smile. “You're hard.”

Ah. Seth blinked. That look of shy excitement on her face right now was both beautiful and scary. He met her eyes. "It's just a reflex."

Kay laughed softly, giving him one of those funny "duh" looks — she knew. Thank god, she knew. And then, holding his gaze, she smirked. "Still nice of him to say hello."

He laughed, amazed at how easy she made this, how she met every uncertain edge with joy. She paused a beat, watching his face, eyes a little bashful. "Mind if I say hello, too?"

He blinked, hating that it took him a beat to answer. "Sure."

"Just hello." Her eyes left his face only briefly — long enough to shift back onto his thighs and tug the sheet down past his hips. His SP catheter came into view, and Seth tried to ignore the tug of shame — reminded himself she’d seen it all before, after the rain. That she just took all of this for what it was. He watched her hook her fingers under the waistband of his boxers and gently tug them down — just far enough. Watched the motion: the slow slide of fabric, the way her knuckles brushed against his skin. What unsettled him was the contrast — that beautiful glow in how she moved, and the pale skin on bone that was his midsection now, catheter tube in the periphery. Seth blinked. Looked at Kay's face. She was smiling to herself quietly — almost mischievously — as she touched him without hesitation, feeling him, her version of 'saying hello', apparently. "Nice," she murmured, her eyes finding his with steady warmth.

He smiled back, releasing a quiet breath he didn't know he'd been holding. His relationship to his dick these days was… none. He couldn't feel it, couldn’t touch it, didn't even pee through it anymore. For the past two years, it had merely existed — no function, no purpose, no meaning other than loss. But now, seeing that quiet, almost affectionate look on Kay’s face as she gave him one last stroke before pulling his boxers back up — he knew it still did have meaning. To her. "I could," he said quietly,  "sometime… try Viagra. If that's something you want."

She looked at him, eyes searching his face. "Yeah," she said after a pause, smile soft and calm. "Sometime, maybe. No rush." And then she moved up to him, kissed his shoulder, slung her arm around chest, snuggling up. Seth closed his eyes, resting his head on hers, letting it all settle. This — this night had really happened. New, hot, tender, and not half as terrifying as he'd pictured it. If they had gone this far just a week earlier, he wouldn't have trusted it — not because of her, but because of all the things that hadn't been said at that point. Now though — he felt the trust. This was true, this was them.

It could have lasted forever — the warm weight of her head in the nape of his neck, her breath soft on his collarbone. He didn't want it to end even when the side of his neck started itching. Or when his shoulder began to cramp up from being in the same position for too long. Whether Kay sensed it or whether she was feeling sticky herself — she put her hand on his cheek. "Wanna clean up a little?"

He smiled lazily, nuzzling into her palm. "Want is too strong a word."

She chuckled. "Well… I need to pee anyway. Badly, actually."

"Fine. But I might need help with the cleaning up part."

Kay kissed his cheek. "Deal. It's my bodily juices you're covered in after all." She pushed herself up with a sigh and untangled her limbs from his — slow, reluctant, like she didn’t really want to move either. Seth watched her as she stood, scanned the floor, then bent to scoop up her panties and his college t-shirt she always slept in. He let his eyes linger — not on her body, but on her. The way she ran a hand through her hair, the way the cotton clung briefly before falling loose again. The way she was moving through his space like she belonged in all of it. His Kay. 

She was only on her way to the door when she paused, hovering, then groaned. "Oh God. What if I run into Brian out there."

Seth chuckled. "Feeling shy?"

She gave him a grimace. "He knows what we did in here. It's awkward."

He rolled his shoulder, trying to loosen it up. "You're not gonna run into him. He’s upstairs."

"How do you know?"

Now he laughed, shaking his head at her. "Because I told him to."

Her eyebrows rose. "Smart."

"I try."

She paused. "But he still knows what we did in here."

He sighed, smirking. "I thought you needed to pee badly."

"Okay okay," she held up her hands. "I’m going."

Once alone, Seth glanced at the clock. He'd asked Brian not to come downstairs before 10.30, and it was almost 10 now. Leaning back more against the pillow, he sighed. He knew it was high time he got shifted and stretched — his shoulder was still cramping, his neck was sore, and his right leg kept trembling like it was connected to a live wire. And he hated it — hated that his body was telling him right now that it didn't care how much more privacy and intimacy he wanted, because it had reached its limits and needed a PCA. And Kay was right: of course this was awkward. Even though he hadn’t explicitly told Brian why he wanted to stay on his back, wait with the splint and keep the first floor off limits for the next few hours — it was obvious, wasn't it. Especially to Brian. Maybe he needed to take this with humor, Seth thought with another sigh. See Brian as his wingman in this. The wingman who does your bowel routine. Ugh.

Kay came back, bringing with her several wet washcloths and a towel. He lifted an eyebrow. "You're taking this seriously."

She smirked. "Always." Her eyes scanned him as she came to the bed. "You're tilting even more."

He snorted softly — shrugging didn't work right now. "Gravity."

"You can't tell me this is still comfortable."

"Yeah," he mumbled. "It's not."

She put the washcloths down and grabbed a cushion from the stack on the armchair. "Will it help if I wedge this against your side to stabilize?"

"Sure. Maybe stuff it under my armpit."

He still didn't like this — being a sack of potatoes under her hands as she braced his side and lifted his spasming arm to fit the cushion under there. Still hated being dead weight, unable to help even a little. It still stung. But — and that was something — it stung a little less today. Maybe at some point, some day, it wouldn't sting at all.

Kay was quiet as she started washing off his hand — the soiled one — finger by finger, gently and focused. He watched her face, tracking the flutter of her lashes, the quiet dance of her freckles when she smiled. "Don't distract me," she murmured with a grin, eyes bashfully flicking up to his face.

"I'm not even doing anything."

She snorted softly. "Yes you are. The thing with your eyes."

He chuckled. "It's called looking."

She put his hand down, teasingly raising an eyebrow. "Which undoes me when you do it. So stop."

He blinked affectionately at her. "I can't do that."

Now she blushed. And leaned in, kissing him. When she pulled back, her eyes were… pondering. She chewed her lip. Fingered her earlobe. Seth knew that look — there was something she was about to ask. He waited. 

"Seth?"

"Yeah?"

She took a small breath. "I want to do your night turn when I sleep here."

Oh. He looked away. That was… unexpected. Then again, it probably wasn't. "Uh," he murmured.

"I know you have this rule of yours," she said. 

He nodded, not meeting her eyes. The rule was there for a reason. He licked his lips, then looked up. "That’s… care territory, Kay."

She tilted her head slightly, brows lifting. "It doesn’t have to be. It can be couple territory."

Couple territory. He imagined it. Played it in his head — Kay getting out of bed at 2 a.m, rolling him, positioning cushions, adjusting his pillow. Checking his urine bag — Seth shook his head. "It's nothing romantic," he said earnestly. "It's work. You’d have to actually wake up. Get up. Check me over…" he trailed off. "You would have to learn what to watch out for." Learn stuff a girlfriend shouldn't have to learn.

Kay nodded, listening, but shifting impatiently. "I know," she said. "I have thought about it."

Of course she had.

"I don’t have any illusions about what it means," she said. "Who knows, I might even curse it sometimes."

He raised an eyebrow. "You definitely would."

She shrugged, holding his gaze. "But it would mean more privacy for us. For me. I mean…"

Seth nodded. He knew what she meant. She was okay with Brian being in the room in the middle of the night — but not that okay. And she hadn’t even stayed over when Greg or Roberta were on shift. She didn’t feel close enough to let them see her like that. He sighed, rolled his shoulder. Searched her gaze. "Just the turn?"

She nodded, a hopeful twitch in one corner of her lips. "Just the turn."

"Nothing more."

Her gaze flickered, just a little. "Yes."

He looked at her for a beat longer, letting it settle. "Okay."

He still wasn’t thrilled — the idea sat uneasily in his chest. But the way Kay’s face lit up — and the kiss that followed — made it worth it. 

"Are you going to show me?" she asked, once she'd pulled back. "Or Brian?"

He chuckled. "Both, probably. Together."

Kay pulled a face. "Daunting."

"You asked for it."

She smiled. "Sure did." Then, picking up the washcloth again, she started cleaning his neck. 

He closed his eyes with a sigh. "Not tonight, though," he mumbled.

"Wouldn't dream of it," she chuckled. 

"Good." Seth smiled, eyes still closed. "Let’s not break the universe all at once."

Kay laughed softly, her voice warm. "Just bit by bit?"

He opened one eye, then the other. Looking at her tenderly. "Yeah. Bit by bit."

On to Chapter 19 

The One Who Got Away — CH 19

 

Chapter 19: The Angle

"I still think you're wearing that dress just to distract me."

"Distract? No. Entice, maybe." Kay smirked as she straightened the collar of Seth's shirt, letting her hand rest on his chest for a moment.

He gazed up at her with that damn smoldering look. "Well, it's working."

She laughed, leaning down for a kiss. "You look hot, too."

The smoldering look flickered a bit. "I'll keep that in mind when your colleagues don’t know how to talk to me. It'll be because I look hot."

Kay squeezed his neck. "They’re gonna just love you."

Seth rolled his shoulder. No surprise there — of course he was nervous. She was too, bringing him to Stettler & Ilk’s annual barbecue. The barbecue Martin had told her to bring her boyfriend to, after seeing those peonies on her desk. 

“Oh, I'm sorry.” The boss's awkward apology when she'd mentioned the wheelchair still echoed in her mind. And the worst part? He hadn’t brought it up again — not once — though she knew he'd wanted to. Wanted to ask why her boyfriend used a wheelchair. And it wasn’t just Martin — the boss could be surprisingly chatty when he wanted to be, and news of disabled partners traveled fast, apparently. Within days, the silent question had made its way across the office, written plainly on everyone’s face. But no one had asked.

"So waddaya want from me once we're there?" Greg asked Seth, opening the sliding door on the side of the van. "Should I come with, or…?"

Seth glanced over his shoulder, at Kay, then back at his PCA. "No, you can hang back there. Be on call." Kay smiled to herself. How very, wonderfully Seth.

"Hang back, huh." Greg gave his employer a thumbs-up. "Gotcha. Fancy architect parties aren't my thing anyway." He stood by as the platform lift touched the ground of the driveway and Seth rolled onto it, watching with that sort of hovering nervousness he often exhibited. It was funny how of all three PCAs, the most anxious one was Greg — the tattooed truck driver. 

Martin's house was a good forty minutes away, and of course Kay had made sure they were on their way early. As she watched the streets passing by outside the van's window, she went through the scenarios again.There were a few ways this day could play out — and Kay had already gone through the possibilities at least six times. But once more couldn’t hurt.

Scenario No. 1: Everything would go smoothly from top to bottom. Her colleagues wouldn't behave awkwardly around Seth, and there wouldn't be any SCI-related hiccups.

Scenario No. 2: There would be a lot of uncomfortable silences — people not knowing how to talk to Seth, or even ignoring him. Basically, one big awkward Saturday. Possibly a reason to leave early.

Scenario No. 3: People would be chill, but some medical situation or care issue would come up. Having to improvise — or even leave abruptly — was a possibility.

Scenario No. 4: People would be clumsy and a medical issue would come up. Basically the worst that could happen today: the boss barbecue from hell.

The problem with every one of those scenarios? Kay had no idea how she’d react to any of them. They were just that — imagined situations, without any real plan on her end. Sighing silently, she glanced over at Seth. Talking about it beforehand might have been an idea. She should have asked him — "What do we do if my colleagues get flustered by the chair?" "What if something comes up and we have to leave early? What do I say? What do you WANT me to say?" 

He noticed her gaze and looked up, having been focused on breathing through the spasms that hit during car rides. "So do they—" His voice died mid-sentence, and he waited for his trunk to calm down. "Do they know that I’m—"

Kay raised an eyebrow. "Do they know you’re a quad?"

He smirked. "I was going to say architect."

"Oh," she blinked. "Uh, no."

Seth cocked his head. "No to the quad or no to the architect?"

"Well," she self-consciously pushed back a strand of hair. "Both."

He nodded slowly, licking his lips. "You could have mentioned the architect part."

Oh Seth. Of course there were scenarios running in his head too. "They just know about the wheelchair, not why you use one," Kay said, glancing at him hesitantly. "Did I mess that up?"

He paused — not long, just enough for something to flicker behind his eyes. Then he shrugged. "No," he said. "It’s fine."

She studied him quietly. "Seth? What do you want me to do if something comes up?" She didn't need to elaborate — he knew what she meant.

"We do what we always do," he said, rolling his shoulder. "We'll handle it." After riding out yet another spasm, he met her eyes. "Don't worry."

Kay snorted. "I'm not worried."

"Sure you are." He gave her a warm look. "I know these kinds of work functions can be nerve-wracking."

He didn't say the rest out loud — that work functions could be stressful, yes, but that bringing a disabled plus one made everything so much more complicated. A part of Kay almost felt bad for dragging him into this. But the invitation had specifically been for partners and spouses — and Seth was her partner, quad or no quad. There would be more barbecues, more occasions with a plus one. So there wasn't really any going around this. With some luck, it would turn out as scenario no 1.

"Is this his design?" Seth asked, peeking out the window when they turned into the driveway. "Impressive."

Kay nodded. "Now I know what my colleagues meant when they said Martin's house is like a portfolio of his style." The boss’s house was — true to his architectural specialty — a historical building with a big modern annex that seamlessly melted into the old part as if it had never not existed. 

They didn’t get out of the van right away — Kay’s time anxiety (aka being early) gave Seth time for a long pressure relief and a stretch from Greg. Kay sat and watched, nervously kneading her knuckles, the scenarios playing on loop in her head. Once they did get out, the first thing Seth looked at was the wide staircase leading up to the main entrance. "I hope we're not supposed to go through the front door," he said dryly as he descended on the lift.

Kay laughed. "No, there's a path around the house — I told you that yesterday, didn’t I?"

He lifted his shoulder. "You didn't provide specifics."

"That's because I don't have any."

Seth gave her a funny look before he went for his sip-and-puff, propelling the wheelchair off the platform. 

Kay glanced at the house again. It looked peaceful. Inviting. A warm breeze caught up. Greg was giving Seth a matronly lookover. "So I'm just gonna… be here, right?"

"Yeah," Seth said with a smile. "Or grab a coffee at that bakery we passed. We’ll call you if something comes up."

Greg shrugged, hands in his pockets. "Maybe. I’ll hang for a minute."

Kay tightened her grip on the gift bag in her hand — wine and chocolates for the boss. She took a breath, glanced at Seth. "Let’s go."

As they approached the house, she soon spotted the path Martin had mentioned. "Over there," she said, pointing at the hydrangea bushes that cleverly concealed the narrow opening. "Want me to go first?"

"Sure," Seth mumbled, control between his teeth. "Lead the way."

Kay stepped through the opening, looking over her shoulder to make sure he was able to navigate between the bushes. It was a narrow space, but enough for the wheelchair to fit through. 

The path looked like the historical part of the house: Old flagstones covering the ground, lined by rocks and flower beds. Kay was just thinking how picturesque it all was when she faltered in her steps, staring at what was in front of her — a segment of the path that was different from the rest. A tree root had elevated the ground into a one-sided slope. It wasn’t just uneven — the flagstones lifted on one side at a steep angle, and the space between that angle and the flower bed was narrow. Too narrow. Fine for stepping over — not for rolling. A pit opened in Kay's stomach. "Uh, Seth?" She licked her lips as she turned to him, stepping to the side and pointing at the spot. "Can you manage this?" She knew the answer, but a part of her was still hoping for something else.

Seth stared at the obstacle, blinked, then let out a small huff. "No," he said, not meeting her eyes. "Of course not."

She swallowed. "Maybe… — are you sure?"

He looked at her sharply. "Yes, I'm fucking sure. I have eyes." He bit the inside of his cheek, jaw flexing.

The pit in Kay's stomach opened up. Not because of what he'd said — but because of how… shaken he looked. And because in all the years she had known Seth, she had never heard such a cutting edge in his voice. She opened her mouth, unsure what to say — but Seth was already backing out through the hydrangeas. He stopped once he was in front of the house again, his jaw tight. "Is there another path?"

Kay looked around nervously. Martin had said the path was on the left side of the house — and this was the left. "I'll check," she said nonetheless. "Let me check."

Her palms were sweaty as she crossed the driveway. But even before reaching the other side of the house, she saw the problem: just a garage and a hedge. No path. Shit. Shit shit shit. This was her fault — her boss’s house, her event, her plan. And she was the one who said it would be fine. This was not any of the scenarios — this was a new one: Scenario No. 5.

Seth was back by the van now, staring at the ground. Greg stood next to him, uneasily looking back and forth between his employer and Kay. The back of her neck burned. "There's nothing," she said, running a shaky hand through her hair. "Just… fuck, what do we do?"

Seth didn't look up, just shrugged wordlessly. She stood there, holding that stupid gift bag, unable to sort out the chaos in her head. They both stayed silent until Greg, who had still been standing there, shifted awkwardly and stepped away, to the other side of the van.

Seth banged his head back against the headrest, eyes closed. "So much for the accessible backyard."

Kay flinched at the flatness in his voice. It wasn’t angry — just tired. And that was somehow worse. "I thought it was!" She threw up her hands. "Martin said it would —"

He shook his head with a scoff. "And this is what happens when you don't ask for specifics, Kay."

She grimaced. "I just assumed… I mean, he said it would be accessible for a wheelchair."

Finally, he looked at her — straight, eyes raw. "Yeah, but you didn’t tell him what kind of wheelchair, did you." His voice was calm, but the edge was still there, restrained, measured. "You didn't tell him I'm a quad."

Fuck. Yes. She hadn’t given her boss the full picture. Hadn’t double-checked the accessibility beforehand — and now she had hurt Seth with it. And what stung most was that she knew better. She wasn’t new to this. "Accessible" could mean ten different things, and usually meant none of them. She'd known this — known she always needed to make sure when going places with Seth. But this time? This time she hadn’t. Because it was her work. Because it was Martin. And she’d let that override everything else.

She barely registered the new cars pulling into the driveway. Now two of her colleagues were walking past and they had "scenario no. 2" looks on their faces. The double take on Seth, the awkward, hesitant wave… it made Kay freak out even more. Her mouth felt dry. Seth was rolling his neck — that thing he did whenever he felt uncomfortably exposed. He glanced at her. "You should just go in," he said. "I'll pick you up when it's done."

Kay's stomach hollowed. "What?" she stammered, "No! No, I told everyone you’d come."

He gave her a look. "I can't get in, Kay."

Hearing him say that, with that calm resignation in his voice that was so Seth, made her heart clench. From around the house, laughter could be heard, accompanied by clapping and cheering. Martin was probably giving some sort of welcome speech — the party had started. "But…," Kay gripped the gift bag tighter, palms sweaty again. "This… this is not how it was supposed to go. I can’t —" I don't want to be here without you. The panic hit unexpectedly and abruptly, washing over her like an icy wave. This was not the plan.

Seth’s eyes were on her. She didn’t want to look up — then did so anyway. His expression had softened, worry replacing frustration. "Okay," he said quietly, after taking a breath. "Why don't you… why don't you go in and ask. Maybe there's another way."

Kay swallowed, nodding quickly, even though they both knew there probably wasn't. "Alright. Yeah. I'll go ask. Please don't leave. Let me figure this out." She hated this. Hated that she needed to just leave him here, even if it was just for five minutes. She hovered, looking at him, then bent down and slung one arm around his neck, burying her nose in his hair for a second. Straightening, she took another breath. "I'll be right back," she told Seth earnestly. Then she went back to the hydrangea opening.

Spotting Martin wasn't hard. Bright yellow shirt with a red kerchief, indigo blue pants — surrounded by a few of her colleagues and apparently telling a story everyone found insanely funny. Kay mostly ignored the curious questions being thrown at her from all sides as she crossed the garden. She didn’t have time to answer. And really — the answers should’ve been obvious. Yes, that was her boyfriend back there. Yes, there was something wrong. Yes, she was okay, but also no, she wasn't.

She didn't really remember what she said to Martin when she waved him aside, just that it involved the words "path" and "wheelchair". Before she knew it, she was following her boss back around the house, trailing after him toward the driveway. He was surprised, no: dumbfounded at the idea that the path shouldn't work, and Kay showed him the spot in question. "Oh that’s…," he murmured, clearing his throat. "There has to be a solution for this. Where is your boyfriend now?"

The boyfriend was still where she had left him — next to the van, currently being fed water by Greg. He was still quietly pissed, still shaken, she could see it from thirty feet away. She had seen it before, but it had never been her fault. Please let there be a fix for this. Please. 

The faltering in Martin's step upon seeing Seth was immediate, as was that short intake of breath that nearly turned into a gasp. She winced. And this is what happens when you don't tell your boss what kind of wheelchair user your boyfriend is, Kay. She could have just said it, mentioned it even in passing — but she hadn't, and now Seth was getting the reaction that he hated most: Shock. 

"I'm Martin Stettler," the boss was saying, and oh God, he looked like he was going for a handshake. Kay could see him suppress the impulse in the last moment, hand clenching at his side when Seth leaned for his control straw — always a subtle way of showing people he couldn't move anything else. 

"I'm sorry about this," Martin fumbled, after Seth had introduced himself and Greg. "Can we go back there and see if there's a solution?" He nervously gestured toward the path. 

Seth glanced at Kay first, as if to check, and she answered with a wordless please. Even though she knew how uncomfortable all of this was for him, and even though she felt guilty for having landed him here at all — Martin was still her boss, and he was here, trying, and she didn't want to be rude. 

"Sure," Seth answered the question with a smile. "Let's have a look." Because of course he understood.

 

"What if we… gave you a little push from behind," Martin asked, completely earnest, once again staring at the uprooted flagstones.

A subtle tensing up of Seth’s jaw, but he didn’t blink. "That's not going to work."

"Or a pull?"

Kay cringed inwardly — at her boss's cluelessness and at how all of this could have been avoided.

"The angle is too sharp, ya see," Greg told Martin, pointing at the sloped flagstones. "And a damn narrow space too."

The boss nodded, brow furrowed. He obviously intended to solve this — really intended to. "What if we lifted the chair on one side to get it to a horizontal angle?"

At this, Seth actually snorted softly, ever so slightly shaking his head. "My chair weighs nearly 300 pounds."

Martin's face fell. "Oh." An awkward pause. "Is there something we could… put on top? So that going over would be easier?"

Seth opened his mouth to answer, but Greg was quicker, tattooed arms on his hips. "The only thing getting him across this mess is a ramp. I suppose ya don't have one of those at hand?"

Greg — you had to love him. But also, Kay needed him to pull it down. Martin crossed his arms, one finger pushing at the bridge of his glasses.

Seth, who usually would've taken over by now, was quiet, his eyes drifting to somewhere in the trees, like he was thinking of something else. No wonder. Great work, Kay.

The boss cleared his throat. "So," he clasped his own hands. "You're saying there is no way to get the chair across this?"

"Oh, the chair’s not the problem," Greg blurted. "This thing’s maneuverable as hell." Seeing the confused look on Martin's face he added: "It's just way too dangerous."

The penny seemed to drop for Martin: too dangerous for Seth. Awkward silence stretched for a moment, heavy and brittle. That feeling of panic bubbled up inside Kay again. She ran a hand over her hair, the other one still gripping that gift bag. There was no solution. There was nothing that could be done. She'd have to go to that barbecue alone, with her boss feeling bad and her boyfriend having been exposed like this for nothing. Fuck.

Seth looked at her. Licked his lips. Then the top of his shoulders lifted as he took a breath. "It would work," he said, voice unexpectedly steady. "Without me in the chair."

Kay stared at him wide-eyed, because she knew what he was suggesting — and most of all what it meant for him to suggest it. So did Greg, who grimaced, emitting some sort of grumble.

Martin, however, lit up. "You mean if we… carry you? That's a great idea!" Because of course he didn't know — didn't realize that for Seth, being lifted and carried was pure exposure, pure vulnerability, pure loss of control. 

Greg clicked his tongue. "I don't like it."

Seth looked at him. "It would only be for a few paces, until the chair is over the threshold. No big deal."

Liar. Kay's heart ached — with admiration, with guilt, with something tender and sharp all at once. Instinctively, she took a step closer to him, putting her hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to do that," she whispered, slightly leaning down. 

He just glanced at her, giving a reassuring blink. "It's okay."

Martin shifted from one leg to the other, clearing his throat. "So how are we gonna…?"

Greg crossed his arms. "I'll need a strong guy to help me lift," he said, looking at Martin. "Got one of those?"

Kay did a swift mental check of her colleagues. Who was the fittest? "Vincent," she said to her boss. "He would be good for it."

"Alright," the boss nodded. "Let me go get him." He put his hands together, smiling at them excitedly. "So glad we found a solution for this."

Kay wished she could be glad, too, but she wasn't. As soon as Martin was walking off, she turned to Seth again. "Are you sure about this? You can still change your mind."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Keep asking me and I might." When she put a hand on his cheek, he winked. "It's fine. Don't worry."

"I'm not worried. I just —" feel insanely guilty.

Seth kissed her palm. "Let's just get to that barbecue."

"Whatever ya do," Greg said to Vincent, "don't let go. If ya let go, he goes down."

Vincent — towering over Seth, really — nodded. "Sure." He had pulled back the sleeves of his shirt as if he was ready to heft a bunch of crates. Nervousness was written all over his face, but Kay knew he'd do fine — Vincent was the most jacked architect she'd ever met. Personally she was much more nervous about her own task: guiding the wheelchair over the sloped flagstones once Greg and Vincent would've lifted Seth out and carried him across. What if she didn't manage? What if the wheels got stuck? She glanced at her boss, who was standing a few paces further down the path, starting to look impatient. He wanted to go back to his barbecue, obviously. But this wasn't something you could just rush — too much that could go wrong. "Martin," she called out hesitantly. "Would you… would you mind giving me a hand with the chair?" It felt awkward, asking her boss to do this, but on the other hand: This was his fucked up garden path, and he was the one who'd insisted on finding a solution.

Martin nodded, awkwardly squeezing past Vincent, Seth and Greg. "What do you need me to do, Kay?"

Not sure. "Maybe just be in front of it and check that the wheels don't get stuck?" she suggested, nervously fingering the strap of the bag in her hands — the gifts she still hadn’t handed to him. Well, now was not the moment either. Greg had unstrapped Seth and now slang his arms around his torso, gripping his wrists while instructing Vincent how to best take his legs. Seth was quiet — the sort of quiet that always settled over him when he was about to be cargo. Tension. Composure. Bracing. Enduring. And Kay hated it for him.

When Greg and Vincent lifted on three, spasms rattled through Seth's midsection almost instantly. "Hold on," the PCA quickly barked. "Wait."

Vincent looked unsettled by the sudden shaking, but he didn't let go. "It's normal," Seth told him, voice thin and breathless. "Just happens."

Kay bit the inside of her cheek. When the spasms stopped and Greg said "Go", she held her breath. She knew neither Greg nor Vincent would drop Seth. It wasn’t that. It was the way her stomach twisted at what it took to get to that stupid barbecue — what it took out of Seth. He wants this, she reminded herself. He's doing it for you. Focus on your task. Switching to autopilot, she stepped behind the wheelchair. Finally, the gift bag left her hand, landing on the empty seat.

The maneuver was tricky. Muttering curses under her breath, she guided the wobbling and dangerously tilting chair over the sloped flagstones. Martin wasn't much help — he just stood there, hands hovering but never touching. If it had been anyone else, Kay would've said something, demanded actual support. But this was her boss. 

Cold sweat clung to her forehead; she wiped it away once the chair was over the slope. She grabbed the gift bag from the seat, resisting the urge to throw it into the flower bed, and handed it to Martin with a polite smile. Only then did she look up — and see Seth, still hanging there, suspended between Greg’s and Vincent’s grip. Her eyes stayed on him as they lowered him back into the chair, back into the place where he could finally be in control again. She saw the hidden tension in his jaw, the subtle paleness of his features — probably not from exertion, but from what this was doing to him. And as she stood and watched Greg lean Seth forward and back, fit the laterals and position his arms, it hit her like a stone — they were going to have to do this all over again later, in reverse. 

Martin clapped Vincent on the shoulder. "Great," he said. "Well done team." As if this were the end of a meeting at the firm — then turned toward the garden again, already halfway back to his party. And for the first time since arriving here, Kay wasn't just mad at herself, but at her boss, too. 

Seth's voice brought her out of it. "You did well," he said softly.

Kay let out a short laugh — not because any of it was funny. The opposite, actually. She shook her head, gave him a tender look. "You okay?"

"Sure."

Because yeah, what else could he say. She glanced at the narrow path ahead, then at the low murmur of voices from the garden. Right. Party time.

Some people clapped at their arrival, a few cheered cautiously, most just turned and looked. "Sorry," she whispered to Seth, resting a hand on his shoulder — she knew he hated this. For a moment, she didn't know what to do, where to turn first. How does one mingle while being a spectacle? But then someone saved them. And it wasn’t one of her architect colleagues — it was Lacy, the secretary. "So happy you guys finally made it," she said with a genuine smile. To both of them, touching both their shoulders. And then she actually started chatting to Seth — normally. As if he were the most regular plus one ever. Kay simply stared at her, stunned. Lacy, the blondie, who had set her up with horrible Gideon — Lacy with the fake lashes and long gel nails — of all people, she was the one who wasn’t afraid to talk to a quadriplegic. "If only I'd known you use a power chair," she was saying to Seth. "I would have made Martin fix that path yesterday."

"Power chair". Kay let out a small breath of realization. Only someone familiar with disability would use that term. Lacy had experience — somehow, somewhere. If only Kay had known. That all this time, someone in the firm might have understood. And this is what happens when you assume wrong, Kay.

The smell of grilled meat, hanging thick in the air, suddenly reached her senses. Maybe she was… hungry. Just a little. Vincent came over and handed her a plate, piled with ribs and salad. "Only brought one," he said with an awkward shrug, looking at Seth. "Figured Kay would… you know."

"Take all the food for herself?" Seth said, smirking. "Yeah, she always does."

Vincent grinned. "Still brought two forks though."

Kay sat on Seth's lap while they ate — for several reasons. First, it was just easier this way. Second, she knew that for all the people secretly watching, her standing or sitting beside Seth while guiding a fork to his mouth gave off caregiver vibes. And third, sitting on his lap shielded him from too many intrusive stares while he was being fed. Because those ribs were messy. Good thing Vincent had provided napkins. 

More colleagues came to greet them. There were a couple of red faces from aborted handshake attempts, a few awkward glances at spasms — but all things considered, most of her colleagues did well. Who knew that a messed-up garden path could provide such a solid conversation starter? Seth handled it all like the pro he was, smooth and easy-going. Looking at him, no one would have suspected he had just been through the wringer. But Kay knew. She stayed close, never left his side. Not because he wasn't able to handle the socializing on his own — of course he was — but because she needed to make sure he didn’t have to fake it all by himself.

"So for next year," Martin said, rejoining them with a glass of wine in hand, "this path is getting fixed. Promise." He gave Seth an apologetic smile. "Assuming this hasn’t scared you off my barbecues for good."

Seth chuckled, dipping his head. "If the path is fixed, I'll be here." After a beat, he added: "It's a beautiful place you've built here."

Martin produced a nonchalant hand gesture, but his face lit up — he loved flattery. "People seem to like it," he said with faux modesty. "Especially when they don't expect the annex."

Seth was looking past the birch trees toward the building, eyes slightly narrowing. "I love the junction detail between the old masonry and the curtain wall," he said, tilting his chin toward the modern part of the house. "The compression joint's almost invisible. Makes the transition feel inevitable."

The boss blinked, pushing up his horn-rimmed glasses. "You know something about architecture."

An amused smirk twitched on Seth's lips. "A bit."

Kay smiled. "He’s one of us, Martin."

"He's…?" the boss’s brows pulled together, then shot up. "Oh!" He looked at Kay. "Why did you never mention that?"

Good question indeed. Kay felt herself blush, sharing a silent glance with Seth. Discreetly, almost imperceptibly, he winked at her. Beautiful bastard.

Martin was rubbing his chin, searching Seth's face like he was cataloging. "What did you say your last name was?"

"Bell."

"Bell… wait —" The other man’s face lit up, as if a light bulb had just gone on. "David Roth’s Bell?"

Seth smiled. "You know Dave?"

"Of course," Martin chuckled. "Old friend and rival." A pause as he squinted, tapping his finger. "You did the Merriman Library with him."

Seth gave a small nod. "Detail work, mostly. A bit of façade logistics."

The boss clicked his tongue. "Well, that detail work was fantastic." He gave a rueful smile. "We tried for that project too, you know. You guys snatched it right out from under us in the second round. Damn public tender process."

Kay just stood and watched as their conversation continued. The glass in her hand suddenly felt lighter, the slight breeze in her hair gentler. And Seth — God, Seth looked at ease, settled. And so damn sexy when he talked architecture. 

"You know," Martin said, his expression somewhere between a wink and a grimace. "Now I feel extra bad about that whole path situation."

"As you should," Kay blurted, before she could stop herself. Oops. 

The boss gave a startled laugh. 

Seth’s eyes flicked up to her, one corner of his mouth tugging upward in quiet appreciation. "Don't worry," he said to Martin. "Nothing says welcome like a two-man lift over masonry."

Martin chuckled, then turned more serious. "Does stuff like that…," he made a fumbling hand gesture. "Happen a lot?"

Seth's left shoulder rose. "It happens."

"And it never should," Kay added, then gave her boss a contrite smirk. "Even if he makes it look easy." She leaned her hip against the wheelchair, resting an arm around Seth's shoulders. 

Martin nodded, more thoughtful now. "Well," he said, raising his glass to them, "in any case, I'm glad you're here." He gave them both a brief smile — not the performative kind from earlier, but a real one — before turning and wandering off, swallowed again by the sounds and smoke of the party.

They stayed for another two hours. Seth ended up in a long conversation with Vincent about tensile structures, Lacy told them about her best friend who had severe MS, and Martin held an enthusiastic speech about Stettler & Ilk’s firm history, peppered with clumsy jokes that everyone laughed at politely. 

At some point, Seth looked at Kay and calmly said, "Getting tired."

Which made her smile, because this was new. Not that he was tired — which she had suspected anyway — but that he simply let her know, just like that. No shrugging it off, no downplaying it, just honest communication of his state. "Then let's get out of here," she said, leaning down to give him a kiss. 

The lifting and chair maneuvering over the angled flagstones wasn’t any easier the second time around. A lot of curses came out of Kay’s mouth again — louder this time. Seth's spasms were worse, and getting him settled back into the chair took longer than the actual lift. In the end, they made it. Got into the car, the side door clicking shut with a familiar thud. 

As the van gently bumped down the gravel driveway, Kay leaned back in her seat with a long exhale. Seth looked over. "That was not bad," he said with a quiet smile. "Could’ve done without the cargo moments, but… not bad."

She sighed. "If something like this ever happens again, I'll build a ramp myself."

"You better."

She studied his features, the exhaustion edging them. "I'm sorry, Seth. I should've prepared better."

He nodded slightly, his eyes soft. "You should have. But you're also not the one with the messed-up garden path."

"Thank you for going through all that. For doing it anyway."

He didn't answer right away. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You're worth it." Then he leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes. He slept through the whole drive home.

And Kay, as she sank deeper into her seat, quietly reflected that thinking in scenarios was probably the silliest concept she'd ever gone with. 

To be continued...