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A door banging shut gains my attention, and when I turn my head, I see Nate walking down the hallway. The light in the living room illuminates his face, showing his red cheeks as he rubs his hands together for what must be warmth.
“Coats and gloves on, ladies! It’s showtime!”
My gaze skirts from Nate to Maya as she jumps up off the sofa, putting on her gloves and grabbing her coat.
“I don’t know about this, Nate,” I voice, my concern obvious. All of the horror stories I’ve heard about people having their hands blown off from bad fireworks flashes through my mind.
He walks over to the coat rack, taking down my coat. “It’s perfectly safe, I promise.”
“He’s right,” Maya comments. “He does it every year.”
“You do?” I ask as Nate hands me my coat and I push my arm through the sleeve before leaning forward, pulling it around my back and around to the other side.
Nate then hands me my gloves before he says, “Every year for the last six years anyway,” with a sad look on his face before he shakes his head, his grin returning. “It’s a shame my parents couldn’t be here, they love watching the fireworks.”
The mention of his parents has my mind wandering back to the phone call I had with mine earlier, specifically my dad. “Talking about parents. Mine called me today.” Meeting Nate’s gaze, I raise a brow. “I talked to my dad.”
“And?”
“I think he’s finally accepting it.” I shrug, playing it off like it isn’t a big deal, when in fact it is. My dad is the most stubborn person I know. “They’re coming to visit in two weeks.”
“They are?”
“Yeah. I said they could stay here, if that’s okay?”
He smiles. “Of course it’s okay, but you don’t need my permission. This is your home too.”
I reach out, taking his hand and squeezing it as warmth travels throughout my whole body. “Thank you,” I say, meaning more than just letting my parents stay.
He tilts his head in acknowledgement and I let go of his hand, spinning my chair around and heading toward the kitchen to watch the fireworks from out on the patio.
“Where are you going?”
“Outside.” I raise my brow, looking at him like he’s lost his mind. “To watch the fireworks.”
He and Maya look at each other and she giggles before pointing at the ceiling. “We’re going up to the roof.”
I turn my gaze to Maya and then back to Nate who’s smirking like something’s hilarious. “Okaaay, and how do you propose I get up to the roof—wait, the roof? You stand on the roof?”
“Yes, the roof.” He motions for me to follow him and Maya down the hallway and toward the door leading to the garage. “Come on, negative Nancy.”
“What?” I gasp. “I’m not being negative! You’re about to go stand on the roof, Nate. The freaking roof!”
I follow him and Maya, not understanding any of this. I wish for once he’d just explain it all instead of waiting to show me.
“I’m well aware.” He turns and braces his hands against the sides of my wheelchair. “I wouldn’t take you or Maya up there if it wasn’t safe, and I wouldn’t set fireworks off if I didn’t know what I was doing. It’s New Year’s Eve, just enjoy it.”
Rolling my eyes, I let out a puff of air. “I didn’t say you don’t know what you’re doing, but the roof, Nate?”
“You’ll see,” he replies, following Maya through the now open door leading to the garage. But when he opens a door to the left I never realized was there, I frown.
“And how do you suppose I get up there, huh? I’m not letting you carry—” I’m cut off when he moves and I wheel through the second door. My eyes go wide at what I’m seeing: a spiral staircase with a stair lift attached to the side of the wall. “What the…”
“With this.” He pauses. “Come on, we have ten minutes until midnight. I’ll take your chair up for you.”
I stare at him, wondering what the hell is going on. When did these stairs appear? And more importantly: why didn’t he tell me he has a stair lift? My mind whirs with so ma
ny questions, wanting to ask him why he goes onto his roof and what he uses it for. But he’s right, we only have ten minutes until the clock strikes midnight, so I move forward, lifting out of my chair and onto the stair lift.
