Page 7 of Kiss Me if You Can
Isla
This might be thestrangest day of my life, and that’s saying something. I’ve lived a pretty strange life.
As we climb out of the car to the sounds of cheers from the nearby baseball game, I try not to stare at Jake. It’s really hard not to do. I seriously thought about driving away as soon as he disappeared inside the pharmacy, but I hate the idea of not helping someone in need. So I opened up my phone to check my messages while I waited, only to find a text from my brother-in-law, who somehow stumbled across a news story talking about what happened at the park. According to the article, Jake Moody is a dangerous cyber criminal who evaded capture and needs to be apprehended immediately.
Maybe the criminal thing is right. Jake didn’t deny it. But dangerous? Looking at him, I’m pretty sure there’s not a dangerous bone in his body. Even when I locked him out of the car, he didn’t once glare at me or threaten or even beg me to let him in. Instead, he left the first aid stuff and was about to leave before I told him to come with me. No matter how much logic is telling me to stay away from this guy, my instinct is telling me to help him.
I tend to think my instinct is usually right. After all, my gut told me to quit school and start my own clothing line, and look at me now. I have hundreds of thousands of followers on social media, a website that consistently sells out, and a potential collaboration deal. Assuming I make it to my meeting later today…
I told Cam that I was nowhere near the park and that he didn’t need to be checking up on me while I was in New Mexico, and then I waited for Jake to return while ignoring any other texts that came through. Now I’m here, hoping my instinct is still just as sharp as it has been in the past. Otherwise, today is going to turn out a lot differently than I hoped.
“How can I help?” Jake says, nodding toward my hand where it rests on the car for balance.
I really wish I had my leg. Hopefully no one finds it and takes it before I can go back for it; those things aren’t cheap. For now… “I have some crutches in the trunk,” I tell him. I only make it one hop before he’s at the trunk, pulling them out for me. “Thank you.” Another reason why it’s hard to think he might actually be a criminal. He’s been nothing but kind to me since the moment we collided. But what if I’m wrong?
He must sense my hesitation because once I’m settled with my forearm crutches, he takes a step back. “We don’t have to do this,” he says, nodding toward the bag. “I can leave this with you and fend for myself so you don’t get into any trouble.”
I scoff, even though the logical side of me—a very small part—knows I should take his offer. “I have been in trouble my entire life. I’m not going to stop now. Besides, I’m squeamish around blood.”
That’s a lie. I’m the person who watches doctor shows with fascination and looks up injury videos on YouTube because the human body is just so interesting. I wish I had been awake when my leg was amputated; even at nine years old I would have loved to see the process. My sister, Kailani, thinks I’m crazy, but that has never stopped me. Bring on the blood and gore, baby.
Jake doesn’t need to know that, though.
Pursing his lips, he looks down at my torn-up legs and then nods toward the bleachers. “Let’s find a place to sit. Hopefully no one pays much attention to us, but in case they do, maybe we should—”
“Oh, I’ve got that covered.”
Though he tilts his head, clearly curious about my unspoken plan, I keep it to myself. It’ll be easier if I just do my thing.
Jake leads the way to the bleachers but pauses at the edge. There’s plenty of space underneath them for us to do our thing without being the center of attention, and that would probably be better than sitting in plain sight.
“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” A woman who passes us on her way to the bleachers touches her hand to my arm, which is scraped up and dirty.
I smile and gesture to my stump, even though Jake looks ready to run beside me. “Just clumsy. You know how it is.”
Just as I expected, she turns red and hurries away. Not everyone is so avoidant, but most people are. It has its perks sometimes, like now, when I know she probably won’t say anything to anyone else, leaving us in peace for a little bit.
Jake grits his teeth as he settles on the ground a few feet beneath the bleachers and pulls out some alcohol wipes, though he doesn’t say anything.
“Most people don’t know how to treat people like me,” I tell him quietly. “They either take pity on the poor little girl without a leg and think I’m incapable of anything or look at me like I’m some abomination who needs to be hidden away.”
Shaking his head, he helps me settle beside him and then lifts my good leg, stretching it out across his lap. “They’re wrong, Isla. Losing a limb doesn’t make you less human.”
“Maybe not, but it does make me different.” I hiss when he touches the wipe to the first cut, and he freezes. “No, keep going. I just wasn’t ready for you.”
Story of the day. I came to Sun City hoping to meet up with an influencer who has repped some of the biggest brands in athletic wear and has almost a million followers because of her work to empower women. I had some time to kill before my meeting, so I found a nice-looking park and went for a walk to calm my nerves. I certainly wasn’t ready for some guy to tackle me down a hill, nor was I ready to encounter one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.
Can I call him nice when he sort of kidnapped me?
Regardless, I never expected to be sitting underneath metal bleachers with a decently good view of the game through the slats. It’s a Little League game with a surprising number of spectators given the low skill of the players.
“So, what’s your story?” Jake asks, keeping his eyes on his task as he slowly cleans my leg.
I turn back to him. “I lost my leg when I was nine. Bone cancer.”
He pauses, his gaze jumping up to meet mine as his dimple makes an appearance with his smile. “That isn’t what I asked.”
“Oh.”
