That almost made him smile.
Almost.
You took a breath before courage could leave you. “Can you move your right foot?”
His jaw tightened. “Get out.”
“You moved your knee last night.”
“I said get out.”
“You’re not dead from the waist down.”
The room went silent.
Alejandro’s fingers gripped the wheelchair armrests. His face hardened, but his eyes changed. Something small and furious lit inside them, the way a match burns in a room everyone thought was empty.
“You don’t know anything,” he said.
Continue on the next page:
