“Your turn.” My wheelchair is parked next to the bench, and I pull it towards me. I slide into the chair and wheel around behind the bench, ready to spot Arlo.
We’re working out in the basement gym at the Wild Riders MC headquarters. Even though it’s Christmas Eve, I don’t miss a workout. My legs might be useless, but my upper body, core, and arms are strong.
Arlo does three sets and Maggie still isn’t back. He paces the gym while I haul myself back onto the bench and get ready for sit-ups.
Arlo hovers, but he knows better than to hold my limbs down. I hate anyone touching my stumps, but when I first started working out, my body had gotten soft from no use. I avoided core exercises until I finally gave in and let Arlo strap my stumps down while I curled up to a sitting position.
Now my core is strong, but I still need straps to counterbalance the weight. I secure them loosely around my upper thighs.
We’ve been working out for an hour, and despite the snow outside, sweat runs over my body.
I pull my t-shirt off and place it behind my head. My goal is to get to 100 sit-ups by the end of the year, and I’m eight days away.
I get into a steady rhythm, breathing in on the up and out on the back down. Sweat glistens on my stomach, and I focus on the rhythm of my breathing as I count up in my head.
Without my lower legs to counterbalance, my abs and upper legs are working extra hard. When I started working out two years ago, I could barely do five assisted sit-ups.
My physical therapist told me getting to ten unassisted would be good. I’m not looking for good. My lower body might be missing, but my torso and arms can be strong.
The sensation of my muscles straining spurs me on as I hit the halfway mark.
I’m in the zone now, my muscles working extra hard to pull myself up. I pass sixty, then seventy, then eighty.
Every muscle in my stomach, back, and upper legs screams and sweat flies off my forehead, but I remain laser focused on pulling myself up one sit-up at a time.
I reach ninety and my body shudders. I’m vaguely aware of Arlo moving across the room and voices at the door.
But I remain focused on pushing past ninety. My body strains and my muscles burn. I cry out with every sit-up.
Shapes move in my peripheral vision, and a baby wails.
I’m at ninety-five, and my lungs are it fit to burst. My body gives out and my abdominals freeze up. The next time I come down, my body refuses to get back up.
I lie back on the bench, breathing hard. Ninety-five. That’s five more than last time, but still not the hundred sit-ups I promised myself I’d get to by the end of the year.
As I lie panting on my back, the rest of the basement comes back into focus. Maggie’s voice reaches my ears, along with the sound of a baby crying.
My abs are protesting, but I grip the side of the bench and pull myself up one last time. I’m panting hard as I sit up on the bench. My chest heaves up and down, and my hair sticks to my forehead.
I’m a sweaty mess with no shirt on and my stumps sticking out of my gym shorts. But it’s only Maggie and she’s practically family. But it’s not only Maggie.
Learning on the doorframe with a baby clutched to her chest is the prettiest woman I’m ever seen. Her dark hair falls over her face as she comforts the child with shushing noises. She jiggles it up and down, making her entire curvy body move in a way that shouldn’t be sexy. But it is.
My dick stirs to life, which is a surprise. I’ve not felt that for a real live woman since the accident.
My heart, already hammering in my chest, picks up a notch and threatens to burst right out of my rib cage.
Arlo’s saying something, but I don’t hear what it is. All my focus is on the goddess in front of me.
“The refuge is full, so Isla will be staying at the club,” Arlo says.
My thoughts are all jumbled up and I open my mouthto speak, but the only sound that comes out is a gargled, “Aha.”
The woman glances up and our eyes lock. She has dark circles under hers, and they appear haunted. If some fucker has harmed her, I’ll track him down and, missing limbs or not, I’ll fucking hurt him.
Her gaze rakes over my chest, and her eyes widen when she gets to the six-pack of my abs. My dick stirs again, and a sensation long forgotten flutters through my veins.
Attraction.
