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couldn’t get her to talk about anything other than the weather and food.
    “Have you been to any more concerts?” I asked.
    Kat ran her hand up and down her arm then picked up her fork and stabbed at her food. “This chicken is really good,” she said for the fifth time.
    The girl was impossible. “I’ll take that as a no. Are you still in school?” I asked, hoping I would hit a subject she’d be willing to share with me to put an end to my misery, and bring back my Kat.
    Not a single feature on her face budged. I was beginning to think she moonlighted as a world-class poker player. “There’s a spice in here.” She pointed her knife at the chicken. “I just can’t seem to pinpoint it.”
    My eyes traveled down the lines of her jaw to the curve of her neck, lingering on her scar.
    “What happened to your neck?”
    Her hand flew to the spot just above her shoulder. For a second, she went still, but quickly recovered, taking a sip of her drink then eating another piece of chicken.
    Nothing was working. I had to think of the one thing she always had something to say about. Then it hit me. “How’s your mom doing?”
    “Do you want to try some? It’s . . .”
    “Really good. I know,” I snapped, and Kat leaned back in her chair, her fork hovering just over her plate. She stared at the mashed potatoes as if she wished she could dive into them and disappear.
    I gave up. If she wasn’t interested in talking to me then I wasn’t interested in getting her to open up.
    The waitress dropped the bill on the table, and I put down thirty bucks and grabbed my crutches. “Ready?” I asked, but didn’t wait for her to answer. I hobbled away, not even looking behind me to see if she was following.
    I waited by the car. If I weren’t on the stupid crutches I would’ve walked home. Hell, I would’ve run home.
    The girl was good at dodging questions. Babbling about her food and the weather, silly ways to get out of every single question I threw at her. God, she was as infuriating as she was beautiful.
    If she’d only let me in. Talk to me. I knew I’d be able to change her mind about us. But how do you make a person open up when she doesn’t want to?
    I heard her footsteps and decided it was time to just let it go. She was my aide and nothing more. Three days with her and I’d let the line blur. But she wasn’t ready or willing to give us another shot, no matter how much I wanted it.
    The past was great, but like she said, that’s all it was—the past. It was time to leave it there. Move on. She clearly had. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell.
    “Who are you calling?” she asked just as I was about to hit call.
    “My sister’s boyfriend. I’ll have him pick me up. You can go home.” Her lips parted, and her face turned to stone.
    You’d think I hauled off and knocked the wind out of her. I didn’t care. I was done pretending I didn’t notice every time she changed the subject. Besides, she was the one who ended things. So why was I so intent on filling in the gaps the last two years created?
    “And talk to your manager, see if you can switch. I hate seeing you every day when it’s obvious you want to be anywhere else.”
    I expected her to get in her car and drive away, never look back. So when she balled her hand into her hair and stepped towards me, I nearly collapsed in shock.
    “It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you.”
    So she’d figured out why I was so mad. Not that I was surprised. She had always been a smart girl. Had a full ride to Columbia, but gave it up to stay with her mom during her treatments.
    “Then why won’t you?”
    Her eyes watered. “Because it hurts . . . so bad.” A single tear rolled down her cheek, and I was pissed for being so selfish to think it was because of me. She choked on her words and broke into sobs.
    Shit! I moved as quick as I could with the damn crutches. I reached out to her and pulled her against my chest. Her body shook with each