Page 41 of Awakened By the Guardian

He’d had a plan, and he’d failed. He couldn’t be a full man for her. For him. He should have felt something. The impacts were jarring all the way up into his shoulder, but his legs were numb. He felt not a goddamned thing.

“Stop it! Gary!” Her voice was sharp as she crossed to his side. He could smell the acrid scent of her fear and he hated it.

“Leave me alone!” he bellowed.

“I won’t!” she shot right back into his face.

It startled him enough that he reared back, but she didn’t give him time to react. She grabbed his fist, wrapping it in her two small hands, and she held him there, fighting as he tried to jerk from her grip.

“We’re just experimenting, remember? A shot in the dark. No harm, no foul. How we feel about each other isn’t going to change. Nothing can make that change.”

He knew she was trying to help. He knew, but platitudes weren’t doing it. He’d heard them all in the hospital after the accident. Nothing has changed. You’re still you. We love you just as much. Bullshit. Paralysis had changed things. It had taken months to learn how to be semi-sufficient again. Hell, he’d needed Margaret to yell at him before he finally accepted using a catheter. And, as for all those friends who’d sworn to keep in touch? They hadn’t. Even his parents had disappeared. His father faded away, and he’d had to throw his mother out because she was a constant worrying reminder of everything he’d lost.

So no, Margaret’s words didn’t help him. They didn’t soothe his temper.

“You like me this way,” he reminded her. “You want me to stay a cripple.”

She gasped. “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is!” he roared, letting all his self-hated ignite his gaze. “You’re afraid of men. You would never have even said hello to me if I hadn’t been in a wheelchair. Admit it! For once in your life, say the truth!”

He was bellowing at her, and she was shrinking back. Where before she’d held his hands, now she clutched hers to her chest.

“Gary,” she whispered. “I love you.”

“As a cripple!” he shot back. “Only as a fucking cripple.”

She didn’t say anything, just pressed her hands to her mouth and shook her head.

He hated himself, then. God, he hated everything. She couldn’t deny it, and he’d just hurt her, the one person he loved most in the entire world. She’d feel safer if he stayed a paraplegic, though, and he hated her brokenness, however it had occurred. Like he hated his own.

His father touched Margaret’s arm, gently drew her back by his side. Gary didn’t like that, and he bared his teeth, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it. Not while dragging a useless lower half around like a sack of potatoes.

“It’s the serum,” his father said. “Makes us all aggressive. He doesn’t mean what he’s saying.”

Margaret shook her head. “He means it. He means every word.”

He did. And he didn’t. She couldn’t help that she was afraid of him. It had been his ego that convinced him she could change. That he could change her. That he should change her. Wasn’t that the first rule of dating? Don’t try to change the one you love.

He twisted so he didn’t have to look at her. But that brought him back to Vic’s hairy face and clawed hands, at least for a moment. While he watched, the man shook himself. Like a dog throwing off water, he gave a full body shudder. Then, bam: normal human again. With a grim expression and a false smile.

“Just the first try,” the guy said. “There’s more serum. We’ll try again in a few days, after you’re recovered. I should have made you wait longer, so that’s on me.”

How easy it was for him, to have a shake and be all-good again. Vic was whole. Vic would never be a cripple. Vic couldn’t feel his chance to heal draining away forever like Dr. Sherilyn warned.

“No,” Gary found himself whispering. “We do it now. Get me another dose.”

“No can do,” Vic said, his tone cold. “First off, I’m not so sure you’re in the right frame of mind⁠—”

“My mind has nothing to do with it!”

“Your mind has everything to do with it, so get it under control!”

There was such authority in those words that Gary buttoned his lip. He didn’t want to. The surliness in him raged, but Vic was also right: He was out of control, and he knew it. So he took a breath and moderated his tone. “I’m okay now. Let me try again.”

Vic shook his head. “Couldn’t even if I wanted to. Too many problems here. Simon’s on his way back, we’ve got wolves flexing their muscles, Hank has gone off the rails, and no one’s seen Kennedy. I can’t spare anyone to help you out. And you definitely need help.”

“I don’t need any⁠—”