She grins and flails her arms as I exclaim over her picture. She drives her motorized wheelchair across the room and gets a portfolio. She sets it in front of us on the table and opens it up.

Time ceases to exist. It’s like we have never been apart. Lilly is still Lilly. I’m still Josh. Our circumstances are different, but inside we’re the same. I need to stop looking at what Lilly can’t do, and look at what she can. She’s a talented artist. She has a boyfriend and her life went on, just like mine did. I’m doing her a disservice by assuming that she’s unhappy. She’s alive. She’s happy. She smiles at me and taps her lips and I kiss her quickly.

“Your boyfriend is going to be jealous,” I tease.

She laughs and waves an arm in the air.

I take her hand. “Do you hate me, Lilly?”

She blinks hard and I realize her eyes are filling with tears. But she doesn’t take the tissue I offer her. She squeezes my hand and shakes her head. She makes a noise.

“She doesn’t hate you,” Star says from the doorway. I look over and find her standing there, and a tear courses down her cheek. She swipes it away.

“How do you know?” I ask.

Star sticks out her hand. “Hi,” she says. “I’m Star.”

Lilly can’t grip, but she does stick her hand in Star’s.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Star says. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Josh talks about you all the time.”

Lilly beams.

Star cups her hands around her mouth and whispers playfully at Lilly, “I can’t hate him either. He’s too damn sweet for that.”

Lilly nods and her hand falls on top of mine. She gives me a crazy pat like she agrees. If there’s anyone who deserves to be hated, it’s me.

“Can I see your art?” Star asks.

Lilly opens her portfolio and Star sits down on the other side of the table, and they look at it together, almost forehead to forehead. I like that Star doesn’t talk to her like she’s disabled. I like that Star doesn’t act like Lilly’s less than she is. I like…I just like Star.

Lilly rings a bell and Mrs. Jameson comes into the room. “We’ll be right back,” she says, and she follows Lilly down the hallway.

When she rolls out of the room, all the breath whooshes from my body. “I was so worried,” I tell Star.

“I know.” She doesn’t reach for me or try to touch me. If she did, I’d probably fall apart.

“I don’t think she hates me.”

“I don’t think so either. She’s saying a million words to you with her eyes. You just need to listen.”

Lilly comes back and I can only assume that she went to the bathroom. Star goes with Mrs. Jameson back toward the kitchen.

Lilly points to the chessboard in the corner and raises her brows.

“You want to play?” I ask her.

She nods. It’s a jerky, uncoordinated move, but I get it. I shrug. “Why not?”

I set up the board, and she makes the first move.

Lilly and I used to play chess together all the time. She always trounced me. Every single time. What do I do now? Do I let her win?

But that quickly ceases to take my attention, because she makes a move and I realize that she’s playing exactly the way she did before her injury. Like a fucking shark.

“You’re still better than me at this,” I grumble. “How can that be?”

She smiles and taps her temple.

“I know. You’re smart. You always were. Except for that night when you got in the car with me.”

She freezes. Then she starts to shake her head.

“Lilly, I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m so sorry. I never told you, but I should have.”

She shakes her head and reaches out to touch my cheek. She drags her knuckle across the teardrop tattoos under my eye.

“They’re for you. You and them. Three of them,” I tell her, because I never want to forget. I never want to be that stupid again. She cups my face with her hand and stares into my eyes. Then she leans forward and taps her lips. I kiss her. But when I would pull back, she holds my face and keeps me there, her lips against mine. She stays there until I crack. I snuffle against her lips as my throat clogs and my eyes fill with tears. I heave out a sob. “I’m so sorry, Lilly.”

She pulls me against her and I let her hold me, even though it should be the other way around. I should be doing everything to make her feel better. But I’m just taking from her. The same way I always have.

She pats my back and lets me sob on her shoulder for a minute. Then she sits back from me, snorts out a laugh, and hands me a box of tissues.

“You think that’s funny, huh?” I ask as I blot my face dry.

She jerks out a nod. Then she reaches over and pushes a chess piece.

“You just checked me?”

She laughs and slaps her knee.

“You little stinker,” I grouse, and I study the board. She’s going to win. And I didn’t let her.

She rubs her knuckle against the tattoo on my face again and looks at me, looking deeply. “What is it, Lilly?”

She smiles and shakes her head. Then she points to her heart and at me.

“I love you, too, Lilly,” I tell her.

She starts to set the chessboard up again and motions for us to play one more time. I can’t think of anything I want to do more. So I stay until dark. I stay all day. I check on Star a few times, but she helps Mrs. Jameson make cookies and they take a walk around the neighborhood while I play chess with Lilly. Mrs. Jameson enjoys having someone to fuss over and Star doesn’t seem to mind.