Page 6 of Tracing Her Stolen Identity
Staring at him now as he sat at the bank of computers pretending she didn’t exist, she could still read him like a book. Spinning away from the sight of the man she’d always thought would be hers, she quickly searched the fridge. She was surprised it was stocked with eggs, Spam, cheese and fruit. Was she hungry? Not even a little bit, but Reece probably was, and cooking gave her something to do while he kept his head buried in the computer as though it had all the answers. It didn’t, but she’d let him come to that conclusion all on his own.
She had an omelet going in no time despite the challenge of working from a chair in a kitchen that was made for someone much taller. She was used to it now, but in the beginning, cooking had terrified her. With the help of an encouraging occupational therapist who had the patience of a saint, she’d started to learn and believe that she could do anything. That included her art. She’d spent the first year after rehab doing nothing but drawing, believing that it would be too hard to be an artist in a wheelchair. Was it easy? No. But every time she finished a piece, it reminded her that it was worth the extra work and planning it took to complete. Stained glass and mosaics weren’t lightweight or easy to move around. She was forever grateful to an “old and grizzled”—his words, not hers—artist in downtown Superior who let her work at his studio and helped her move her equipment around.
With a flip of the spatula, she turned the omelet and added some water to the pan before plopping a lid on the top to fluff it while she cut some apples and searched out plates. Of course, they were on the top shelf, because why not? That was normal for someone who could stand up and reach them. Her—not so much. Skylar flicked the burneroff and moved the pan aside before she did what she never wanted to do: ask for help.
“Hey, Reece?” she called out, and he turned from where he sat at the bank of computers and other high-tech equipment that she was clueless about. “Could you help me grab a plate?”
He pushed himself out of the chair and strolled into the kitchen. “You can cook?” he asked with enough snark for her to know he was fully entrenched in his standoffish attitude, but she refused to take the bait.
“Surprisingly, I can do a lot of things.” She made sure to make the sentence sound matter-of-fact and not sarcastic. He wouldn’t make her feel small to avoid his feelings about the accident. “I wasn’t sure when you last ate but figured you might be hungry.”
Reece lowered two plates to the counter. “I could eat. You have the first one, and I’ll make another for myself.”
“I’m not hungry,” she said, sliding the omelet onto his plate and adding the fruit next to it.
With a sigh, he dropped his hand onto his hip. “The first thing you need to learn about our situation is this. When you have a chance to eat, you eat. Our entire situation could change in ten minutes and we’re moving again. It could be days before you can get a hot meal, so yes, you’ll eat.”
He split the eggs in half without asking and cut up more fruit. He dropped bread into the toaster and grabbed some jam from the fridge. Backing her chair up, she watched him work, appreciating how his black cargo pants accentuated his muscular thighs. Reece might work behind a computer all day, but he definitely stayed in shape.
The thought made her glance down at her body with a sigh. “In shape” was something she would never be again.At least not at the level Reece Palmer deserved. A T5 spinal cord injury left her with limited chest and trunk stability, which made working out difficult. The gym was great for keeping her upper body strong, but the years of sitting in a wheelchair had changed her shape in a way she couldn’t deny. Seeing Reece again reinforced her decision to push him away all those years ago.
“When we’re done eating, we’re going to call in to Secure Watch and talk to the team,” Reece explained as he put the toast on plates and carried it all to the small table in the corner of the room. “Does this work, or is it better to eat somewhere else?”
“It’s fine as long as you don’t mind that my elbows will be in the air.”
Rather than answer, he spun and carried the plates into the main room, setting them on the coffee table. It was low, but that was less awkward than too high. He sat on the couch and shoveled the food in without another word, so she did the same. At least a few bites of everything to make it look like she was following his orders. They made sense, but after the trauma of the last few hours, her appetite was long gone.
The questions spun nonstop in her mind. Who would do this to her? Why had they picked her? Was it someone she knew? How would she get all her accounts and data back? How could she afford to hire Secure Watch? That was one question she could answer. One look around the room told her she couldn’t afford them—not their digital work or their protection. Her fork fell to her plate when she realized that she would have to do this alone and had no idea how.
“My parents!” Her gasp was loud in the room, and Reece glanced up from his plate.
“They’re fine,” he said, his fork halfway to his lips. “Mina checked, and their digital footprint has not been erased.”
“They need to know what’s happening, though,” Skylar said. “They should be warned in case this Binate guy decides to go after them.”
“As soon as we finish talking with Mina, she will patch us through to them.”
“I don’t even know what to tell them, Reece. They’re going to be so worried.”
“Secure Watch will give them a rundown on what they should do to protect themselves until we figure out who is behind this. I’ll be here when you talk to them and make it clear that you’re safe and taken care of while we work through this.”
Skylar was about to say she couldn’t afford to keep working with them but bit her tongue. She would wait until she could talk to Mina and make it clear she didn’t have the funds to pay them for this and never would. Reece would argue, but Mina wouldn’t. Someone had to be watching the bottom line.
* * *
AFTER THE PLATESwere cleared and loaded into the dishwasher, Reece checked the house’s perimeter using infrared cameras. Satisfied that everything was quiet, he turned to Skylar, who was sitting in her chair staring at a book. Reading it wasn’t an accurate description, as she hadn’t flipped a page in ten minutes. She was despondent, and as much as he wanted to comfort her, he had to stay hands-off. Skylar was a dream of his that he couldn’tshake even though he knew he could never have her. It had taken him years to understand that, even if he didn’t fully accept it yet.
It was his penance, though, and he was glad she’d made him pay it. It was his fault she was in the chair. That was something he could never change. If he could get a redo on that night, he would, but that wasn’t how life worked. It didn’t let you see your mistakes and then allow you not to make them. You made them, lived the consequences and learned not to do them again. Only he wasn’t the one living with the consequences of this particular mistake. Skylar was. That was the hardest part to accept. He should be in that chair, and he would trade places with her in a heartbeat if life worked that way.
“Ready to call Secure Watch?” he asked, leaning forward on his thighs.
The look on her face when she lifted her head gave him the answer. “Not until we talk about this.”
“Talk about what?”
“This,” she said, motioning between them. “You saying two words at a time to me and the grimace on your face every time you look at the chair.”
“I’m worried about you. That’s all,” he answered, forcing himself not to react negatively to her observations. That would only prove her right.
