'But I'm not afraid to fall

If you're the one who catches me

Tell me that you'll be there when I'm

About to lose it all

'Cause you're the one who helps me see

That sometimes it's ok

To fall.'

*ALTHEA'S POV*

October 27, 2023.

"Oh, Althea! You're right on time—"

"To watch the disaster," Asher grumbled, interrupting Daniel's greeting, though, like it didn't stop my steps past the colorful mats and treatment tables, the physiotherapist quickly continued to explain,

"We're about to try the walking bars without the harness."

"And fail p-pathetically..."

My stride did falter at these words Asher muttered under his breath. However, I reminded myself he'd pronounced the same before trying the exercises with the harness, the lying pedal pushers, and even before, he'd typed these words on his tablet.

Now, here he was, about two weeks later, getting up from his chair with Daniel's help to stand at the beginning of the two bars. His progress was incredible, and it was what the physiotherapist repeated, even if not with the best words.

"Your muscles have gained strength. They can hold you better, and we're here to catch you if you lose balance. Don't be scared."

"I'm not scared. I don't give a fuck if I fall!" Asher protested again, this time, faster and louder.

Luckily, it was lunchtime, so there was no one else in the large PT room, except for Sarah and a nurse in the stretching area, and both seemed to watch with amusement the scene.

Asher's outbursts were always a great show, and this one wasn't different. At least, from the outside, as he thrust his jaw forward with defiance and spit out curse words.

"It won't be the f-first damn time."

Yet I caught the flicker of his glare down from the bars he was gripping to his unsure legs and the movement of his Adam's apple as he swallowed, holding down much more than he let out in his 'outburst'.

He might not have been scared of falling, but it was the stakes that came with it, the possibility of walking again, and the risks of failing. I'd learned long ago that his outbursts were just a tiny spatter of all the pressure he put on himself threatening to make him implode sometimes.

"Just warning Althea 'cause she doesn't have time to waste waiting for a m-miracle."

"Well, you don't have to worry," I spoke up, making him snap his fiery green gaze towards me as I took a step at the other end of the walking bars. "I've done the first fittings this morning with the kids, and I'll work tonight on the new designs for my collection. But this afternoon, I'm off of work because I'm taking you somewhere."

"Where?" He slowly moved his right leg forward, his eyes leaving mine for a second to check if his body was following the command.

It was, and the beats of my heart too, quickening as he took another tentative step with his left leg, and wavering with every shake of his muscles.

However, when I replied that first, I invited him for lunch in the place of his choice, and his balance tottered, my heart rate wasn't as quick to steady as he narrowly caught himself up on the right bar.

"For the rest, it's a surprise," I added, trying to sound mysterious, trying to not let him hear the breathlessness in my whisper, while inside, I was terrified for him because as much as he repeated he didn't believe the physio could help him regain some of his abilities, a tiny sparkle of hope was still shining in his green eyes, brighter and brighter every day.

And I could notice it acutely at this instant as he was holding onto my gaze like his hands were gripping the bars, especially the right one.

He was leaning most of his weight onto his right hand, to the point that his knuckles were white, the contrast striking with the orange sweatband at his wrist, and the muscles already more prominent on this side were bulging with every movement.

But at least, there was movement, and the most important was that he kept going forward, like our mindless back-and-forth.

"'Nother trip with the kids?"

"No, this time, it's just for you."

"You and me a-lone?" He paused, letting me take in the distance he'd crossed as his ardent eyes made me tilt my head back.

I'd forgotten how dizzying the jade shades could be when he stood in all his towering glory, and my hand instinctively reached for the cold metal bar as he resumed his slow steps.

"Yes, well, before we meet up with the people waiting for us."

"People?" he spat as if he already couldn't stand the word, and as he threw his head back in frustration, I swallowed the unsteady lump of doubts in my throat.

Or was it something else thrumming there?

I wasn't sure when he lowered his head again, and his next breath hit my forehead as heavily as the realization of how close he was standing... his shoes bumping into mine... his musky scent tickling my lungs... his fingers grazing mine on the rail... his penetrating gaze skimming over my face...

"The miracle happened faster than expected finally," Daniel noted before I could open my dry lips, and I blinked to find the physiotherapist standing right next to Asher and me, as he'd stayed by his side to make sure he didn't fall from the start of the parallel bars until where I was standing, on the other end.

"Yes, you did it!" I breathed out a smile, and this time, I could recognize my heart leaping into my throat and higher.

I almost jumped myself, but stopped the impulse at the last second, not wanting to make his fragile balance waver, nor the light in his eyes as he glanced over his shoulder at the distance he'd just walked.

"10 feet, woo-hoo." Of course, nothing could outshine his sarcasm. "What do I win?"

"The permission to leave early. You've done a great job today, and you need some energy for your surprise." Daniel pushed his wheelchair closer, throwing me a wink on the way, as he knew what the 'surprise' was.

I'd talked to him and the doctor Rollings before arranging everything to make sure there was no medical contraindication, and both—along with Carol and Oliver—had agreed it was a great idea and could even help with his physio.

Now, there only lacked Asher's approval, and it wouldn't be as easy.

The more the seconds ticked, the more I questioned my idea, and he did too, trying to guess where I was taking him.

Asher loved surprises when he was the one making them, but receiving them was a whole other story, especially when he had to wait patiently, and sitting across from his piercing eyes throughout the lunch, my brain had to twist more than the spaghetti we ate to avoid spilling the truth.

The drive to LA and the Friday traffic might have been worse though. He'd almost made me run the red before I pulled out his eyemask over, and even from under the fleecy blue fabric, I could feel his scrutinizing gaze on me.

"It better not be some high school reunion and pity show shit," he grumbled as I helped him out of the car and into his wheelchair.

"It's not, don't worry."

My eyes traveling across the parking lot at the glass doors waiting for us in the wide beige and grey building, I wondered how many more warnings, questions, and suppositions I would have to answer before he found out the truth.

So far, he hadn't gotten close to guessing. However, I didn't know if it was a good sign that it wasn't on his veto list, or if it meant that it had slipped from his mind forever.

No, everyone had noticed the obvious last Sunday at the theme park, and I hoped to recreate the same magic if the people getting in the car next to us didn't spoil my surprise before.

"I wanted to, but it was too late to make everyone fly back here, especially Christina who's doing an internship at the White House."

"What? Really?"

"No, I'm kidding. Do you really think we'd kept in contact? She hated me." I chuckled, swiftly diverting his attention, like his wheelchair, away from the three men talking animatedly near our car.

Though for both, he didn't leave me all control, still pushing the wheels with his arm and the questions.

"'Kay, maybe not her. But do you still talk to some people from that time?"

"You know me." My lips stretched into a half-smile before I remembered that even if I could almost picture the intense jade burning through me, he still had his blindfold on. "Don't worry. It won't be a heartfelt reunion, and there isn't anyone you've already met here."

He was about to find out as we reached the building anyway, because if he couldn't glimpse the large letters arranged in a round shape on the automatic glass doors, as soon as they opened, I knew he would recognize the uneven thuds that my heart quickly followed and the hints of rubber, leather, and sweat that didn't get to reach my lungs as I inhaled a deep breath and—

"No." He froze all his movements, letting me take in how much he'd been driving his chair as I collided against its back, and it wasn't the only thing crashing.

"Yes, we're here. You can take off your mask."

"No. You said no pity show shit from the past. So what's that?" He waved his hand around, while still keeping his mask on, making it impossible for him to see anything around the entrance hall, neither the ball-shaped clock above the 'reception closed' sign, the framed group pictures on the stripped white and navy walls, and the trophies on the shelf on the right, nor the lower height of the front desk, the wheelchairs on all the photos and also sculpted in the golden cups.

"It's not from the past. It's different, look." I too pointed around while taking off his mask.

I quickly regretted it though, as every item his gaze caught seemed to only fuel the protest in the jade shades until it was enough to light a fire, and they landed on me.

"Wheelchair basketball, 'f course. Did the doc suggest it or was it on the Google lists to help the poor hemiplegic guy?"

My eyes instinctively closed, shielding myself against the spurts of his fire, even if it didn't stop the searing guilt inside. He would never forget, wouldn't he?

"No, I got the idea on Sunday, watching you play with Theo and Francis."

"Was just trying to help them."

"I know, but I saw the sparkle in your eyes." I smiled, still picturing the twinkling green. I knew it was in here, underneath all the boiling anger. Maybe it was even what was sparking it. "Don't tell me you don't miss it. The adrenaline? The victory rush? The teamwork? Just the thrill of scoring?"

"It's not the only thing I miss that did all those." He dived his gaze into mine, the flaming rage switching to something even more ardent that I felt painfully in all my nerves.

What to even reply to this?

"Well, it's in your present right now. I mean..." I cleared my throat, shaking my head, as under his smoldering look, the words came out hazier than I wanted them, and I needed to remember the ones I'd prepared.

"I've organized everything for today and pulled a lot of strings to be able to come here during the first division's practice. Do you know it's the equivalent of the NBA for wheelchair basketball? Though I've heard they pull way more action."

Yes, I'd prepared some arguments, expecting he wouldn't be convinced instantly, and my fingers were reaching for the zipper of my hoodies, ready to expose my last one when he sighed.

"'Kay, guess watching a game won't kill."

"Um—"

"Oh, hello, you must be Althea? We were waiting for you." A friendly voice that my brain had already associated with the name Sonny interrupted, and I quickly let go of my hoodie zipper to shake the hand of the burly man in basketball jersey approaching with his wheelchair.

"Nice to meet you. I hope we're not late?"

"No, don't worry. We're here all afternoon. The guys just couldn't wait to meet the famous Asher!" Sonny smiled, his dark eyes and extended hand turning towards Asher, who was observing us attentively under a lifted eyebrow. "I'm Sonny, the captain. Althea told me a lot about you and your techniques, and we can't wait to see what an NBA first-pick can do on the court."

"Nice to meet—wait, what did he say?" Asher stopped mid-handshake, jerking his head towards me.

"Well, it's what I was about to tell you." I let my lips stretch into a bashful smile, as slowly as my fingers slid down the zipper of my hoodie to reveal the letters 'Go Asher' on an old jersey I'd made in the colors of his college team. "You don't leave Asher Rohan on the bench."

"You've really thought of ev'rything." He shook his head, while his gaze stayed pinned to his name on my shirt, or maybe to the many memories that came with it. "But I don't have a sports wheelchair."

"I've thought about this too, don't worry. Sonny said they have a hemiplegic player who can lend you his chair," I explained, nodding at the man who was still beside us, even if Asher was completely ignoring him.

"I don't even know how to use it, and they're fucking pros, who've done that for most of their lives."

"Actually, if you wanna know, I'd never played basketball before my accident, eight years ago," Sonny spoke up, probably sensing I was running out of arguments, and there was no better person to convince him as he pointed to his two missing legs.

"I started because it was one of the only things I could do with my son at first. Then, I joined the hospital's team, got better at it, and here I am. So you've surely been playing for longer than I."

Maybe Asher could be more understood here. Maybe he could make some friends, and not only because 'they were in wheelchairs'. I would never fall into the stereotype that all disabled people should be friends.

However, they had basketball in common, and apparently, the rest of the team was around Asher's age. Two important points, especially since Paxton had told me on Sunday, when we'd been in the attic to pick up the boxes, in which I'd found the jersey I was wearing, that Asher had cut all ties with his friends from before the accident, including his college teammates because 'he didn't want their pity' and 'they had nothing in common anymore'.

I couldn't imagine how lonely it must have been for him. Well, I knew loneliness very well, yet I'd been used to it all my life, contrary to him, who was a social butterfly, and I could only hope he would be able to spread his wings again here—if he accepted to join, first.

"But if you want, we can go easy on you."

"Yeah, thank, but I'd rather not play at all then," Asher replied with a curl of his lips, his shoulder lifting for a dismissive shrug, or to reach the handrim of his wheelchair. With Asher, both were possible.

He wasn't one for 'going easy', or taking part. He needed competition, real challenge. He needed...

"What if we raise the stakes?" The words fired out of my lips like an orange ball for a swish shot, not passing by my brain, nor any filter, yet they did score instantly as Asher slowly turned his head towards me. "Let's say you play the first quarter, and if your team loses, you have to finish the game."

"And if I win?" His eyebrow lifted, a spark of interest lighting up under, bright enough to make me lick my dry lips.

"You get whatever you want—within reasonable limits," I added because even though he claimed he had no chances against pros of wheelchair basketball, I recognized the dangerous glint of challenge as he narrowed his gaze in thoughts, for barely a second before he held out his right hand.

"One quarter only?"

"That you'll have to win fairly." My fingers stopped an inch away from his to make sure we were agreeing but also to pull out the sweatband I'd slipped into my bag at the end of his physio, as I'd indeed planned everything.

Everything except this bet, and the stakes were sinking in like the tingles of his touch, unpredictable and fiery, as I shook his hand.

"Let the game begin."

What had I gotten myself into?

I'd just been supposed to watch and encourage him, and now, sitting in the empty bleachers, I was losing my breath, my muscles straining, and a trickle of cold sweat pearling in my back as I tried to decide which side I was cheering for.

And the game hadn't even started, since Asher needed to practice how to use his wheelchair first.

Nevertheless, when he was on the court, it was always a full-on show with his volcanic temper and confident aura, one of the reasons why he'd been the only one able to make me like watching sports games, and some things were still the same as he muttered curse words, trying to gear his wheelchair, and his concentrated frown deepened with every advice his teammates were giving him.

In fact, changed into navy basketball shorts and jersey, with his orange wristband, and a ball in hands, he reminded me so much of the first time I'd watched him play, as the same conquering glint shone in his eyes.

Though today, I wasn't sure if I wanted him to win for that light to shine brighter, or if I'd rather have him lose, so he would stay longer on the court, and I would avoid whatever prize his gaze was set on.

Anyway, as soon as the whistle blew the start of the game, I quickly forgot my dilemma.

I couldn't think, nor breathe, only feel my stomach flipping as much as the ball they kept throwing between the players, my nerves jumping with every basket, and my heart stopping with every clash of wheels.

Wheelchair basketball was definitely more aggressive, and Asher liked it already, trying every way to steal the ball to the opposing team before making passes at his teammates from left to right.

I knew this collective tactic... They were switching roles and positions to score, and it worked. In spite of Asher's still clumsy movements, they managed to climb back to a tie less than one minute before the end of the first quarter.

So the ball being on their side, and in Asher's hand, they still had time to score and win. He still had time to score and win, as I recognized the flicker of his gaze sharpening on the basket, and my heart was ticking each milli-second like a bomb ready to explode. Out of victory or defeat?

The answer, like the basketball, depended only on him when he lifted his arm to trick his opponents who probably believed his team would keep the same tactic, but instead, he went for an individual offense, keeping the ball in his grip before he threw it high towards the basket, and it passed the hoop at the final second, making my heart burst.

Yet it wasn't victory, nor defeat, just an eruption of sparking pride as I jumped from my seat, rushing to join Asher, who was high-fiving his teammates with a grin so wide and bright, it almost outshone the slight strain at the left corner of his lips.

"The peachy tactic always works!" he roared, his sparkling green eyes finding me for an instant before I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug.

"No, it's you! You always work. You did it!" I whispered like a chant in his ear, the energy buzzing between his heated and sweaty body and my heart that seemed to still be ticking something, faster and faster... and I remember what when I pulled away, and his raspy words echoed like gunpowder.

"Yeah, I've won..."

The real explosion hadn't happened yet, although it was only a matter of second, as the spark was already in his eyes as I said,

"I guess now you can get whatever you want."—within reasonable limits.

As if 'reasonable' and 'limits' had ever been in his vocabulary, and like someone standing in front of a lit fuse, I realized what I'd just triggered as his smoldering gaze traveled all over my face before ending on my pursed lips.

"I want a good luck kiss before I finish that game."

CLIFFHANGER!!! 🙈🙈

Did you expect Asher would ask this? Do you think it's 'within reasonable limits'? Do you think Althea will accept? 👀

We'll find out soon! In the meantime, tell me all your thoughts about this chapter and Asher's progress so far! And don't forget to vote ⭐ if you liked it!

All the notifications I get from you are the best motivation and prize for me! So thank you, my little peaches! I love you!! 🥰🍑😘❤️