Chapter 4

“Didn’t do that in the kitchen.” I flexed the hand, then made a fist as I rotated it. “I’m better with a knife than that.”

“Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

I shrugged. “Nothing interesting.” Big fat lie. “Senior year of high school, wrong place at the wrong time.” And that’s all he’d get out of me. Dr. Willoughby with all her tricks and reassuring smiles hadn’t been able to get me to tell the whole story of that night. Some stranger on a train didn’t stand a chance.

“And you can use it the way you do now?” Judah whistled low under his breath. “You either had amazing surgeons, or you hit the physical therapy like a man possessed.”

“A little of both, actually. Though I didn’t have much of a choice about the PT. They’d chain me to a table and force me to write these letters to work the muscles until I wanted to cut it off and throw it at them.”