Page 36 of Make Mine Sweet
“The story isn’t over.”
“I would hope not.”
I drop my voice. “He has a prosthetic leg.”
I hate that I’m even bringing it up. I want to be that person who doesn’t mention differences, who’s welcoming and accepting no matter what, but my behavior yesterday proved I’m not living up to it.
That, at least, makes Wren settle. “Did you know?”
“He’d never mentioned it, and I’d never seen him in shorts before.” I don’t know him well enough to guess whether that was intentional or not. Maybe he just likes being extra warm, even in summer. Or maybe he didn’t want to invite stupid comments and open stares from weirdos.
Hi. It’s me. I’m the problem.
“Does it bother you?” Wren’s voice goes flat, and I can tell she’s trying to hide her disapproval. I love that she can’t quite conceal her disappointment, even if it casts doubt on me.
“No. I was just surprised. But the way I stared at him, and all the dumb things I said probably made him think it bothers me. August wanted to talk to Ian about it, and I practically hauled him away.” The memory makes my stomach lurch all over again. “I’ve spent the last two years afraid people would say mean things to August about his diabetes, and then when I was faced with someone with a slight difference, I behaved like a child.”
Worse than some children. August was curious and interested, but I’d escaped as quickly as I could. After, you know, blabbering about Ian tackling an easy trail, and something about wanting to seemoreof him. I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed my shock made my memories of the conversation fuzzy.
The unexpected heat that coursed through me as I looked him over, though?ThatI remember in vivid detail. Echoes of it linger even now.
“But it wasn’t really his difference that made you act that way, right? It was his…” Wren mimes massaging something in front of her. “Extremely attractive body.”
I roll my eyes and slap her hands away. “It’s not like I can say that, though.”
“Pretty sure you could.”
Maybe Wren could just go up to a man and say, “Sorry I stared, I wasn’t looking at your leg, I was memorizing the muscles in your chest.” Personally, I can’t do that. But what I have planned doesn’t feel any easier.
“I have to apologize to him.” I need to prove I’m not really the kind of person I behaved like yesterday—someone who stares and says obnoxious things. First with an apology, and then by treating him exactly the same way I always have. He’s not a different person just because I know about his leg, and I refuse to treat him like one.
“Yeah. I’m sure it will be okay.”
I have less confidence. Nothing about that fiery glare felt very forgiving. But I still need to be a decent person and get the words out. What he does with them isn’t in my control.
“Please don’t say a word about his leg to anyone. I don’t want to add spreading gossip to the list of ways I’ve offended him.”
“I wouldn’t say anything. Sheesh. But are we going to talk about the more important part of that story?”
I brace myself against the counter, knowing exactly what she’s fixated on. “We already covered it.”
She leans in close to whisper in my face. “You. Have. A. Crush.”
I put my palm on her forehead and push her back a step. “Stop.”
She shakes off my rejection. “This is exciting. You didn’t even want to admit when you thought Thor was hot, and he’s imaginary. This is a big development for you.”
“I didn’t want to talk about it because I knew you would mention Thor every chance you got. Which you do.”
Since learning that tidbit a couple of years ago, she’s plastered my bedroom in Thor posters, photoshopped me into romantic poses with him, and gave me a Thor action figure complete with hammer. I passed the action figure on to August, but the point remains: Wren doesn’t let things go.
She pauses a second, thoughts swirling behind those mischievous blue eyes. “Is that what’s doing it for you? The giant beard and the long hair? Is he bringing your Thor fantasies to life?”
Ignoring her, I grab napkins to refill the dispensers on the front counter. Couldn’t I have explained what happened between me and Ian without mentioning my ill-advised crush? Probably not well, since the “ogling him like a goon” part was pretty key.
Wren tails me through the bakery, grinning away. “Obviously, the muscles don’t hurt.”
“I envy people with no siblings,” I grouse.
