Page 195 of The Sidekick

“The guy that hit me was a trucker who was drunk off his ass.”

“Oh gosh. A truck? You’re lucky to be alive,” I whine. My eyes finally meet his in horror.

“Yeah,” he agrees, but the anger doesn’t leave his face. “The company he worked for took care of the medical bills. They wanted to settle so they wouldn’t get sued. Not that I was thinking about that.”

“Of course not,” I frown back. “If you were in and out of surgery, who would care about something that dumb?”

“She did.”

My brow furrows in confusion. “Maybe she wanted revenge on them? To protect you?”

“No,” he says, his tone suddenly gentle as his hand flexes over mine. I forgot he was holding it. I try to twist mine to hold his, but he stops the movement before I can.

“They paid that and gave me some for future medical bills. While I was recovering, she took care of me. No matter how much of an asshole I was, she was always smiling and happy to help.”

That doesn’t sound right. He’s lying in bed, unable to move, and she’s happy? I’d be sad as heck. And worried out of my mind.

“How did she handle it so well? I would have been a basket case.” Maybe she is the perfect woman.

“As soon as the check hit the bank, she withdrew it all and left.”

“What?” I gasp in shock. I wasn’t expecting this twist.

“Yeah,” he says with a bitter smile. “She was faking it the whole time. Here I was freaking out because she disappeared. Max took over and yelled me back into decent health.”

“Thank you, Max,” I mutter dismally. At least someone was there for him. How awful! “Maybe she made a mistake? How did you know she was faking it?”

“Max found her for me,” he informs me with gritted teeth. “With her boyfriend living the good life off the money. She was bouncing back and forth between us. As soon as the money came in and she knew I might never be able to do things like I used to, she cut her losses and ran. She started planning it before I was released from the hospital. She told Max she was pissed because we could have gotten more money, but I was too pathetic to fight for it. Said she would have stayed if the money had been better.”

I stare at him with my jaw dropped. I can’t think of a single thing to say.

“I hope he hit her,” I whisper firmly.

Maybe I can think of something to say.

“No. She tried to convince him to sleep with her, so he broke in that night and trashed her house. He almost got caught, too.”

“And he said he had skills,” my eyes narrow as I frown. “He’s not going on a B&E with me ever.”

“Not the point, babygirl.”

“Sorry,” I mutter, but my brain won’t stop being gleeful that he sucks at it.

“When people are nice to me, I question it. What’s their motive? Why? Is this a trick?”

My shoulders slump as the hopelessness of it hits me. I’m nice to everyone. He won’t be able to stand me.

“My motive is because it makes me feel like I’m helping. I’m not really, but it feels that way.”

“Why do you think you aren’t?” He asks with a frown.

“I suck at it,” I tell him firmly. “People don’t like it. Or you be nice, and they start taking and taking until you finally notice, and it’s too late to stop it. I touch people without their permission because I think it helps. I tell people happy stuff so they smile. I mean, Max never did, but I tried at least.”

“Because you want to be happy,” he says it as a question, but it doesn’t sound that way to me.

“Well, I quit,” I tell him firmly. “I’m not doing it anymore, and no one can say a thing about it.”

“Just like that?” He raises a brow that feels like he’s judging me.

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