When Casper had first approached her about Willow staying during her recovery, Mary had instantly agreed. She valued her independence, had finally gotten settled into her new house, but didn’t mind a temporary roommate who needed accessible housing. She had spent two years trying to fit into a world that didn’t always make it easy for someone in a wheelchair, so she wasn’t about to turn down the offer to help someone else.
“Morning,” Willow said with a bright smile. “I made coffee. Hope you don’t mind that I raided your creamer stash.”
“Help yourself,” Mary said, maneuvering to the coffee pot. “How are the ankles feeling today?”
“Better, I think. Still can’t put weight on them, but the swelling’s going down.” Willow gestured to the hospital-grade wheelchair that Casper had arranged for her to borrow when it became clear she would need mobility assistance during her recovery. “I have so much more respect for what you do every day. This is exhausting, and I’ve only been doing it for two weeks.”
Mary poured her coffee and moved to join Willow at the table. “It gets easier. You build up the arm strength, figure out the most efficient routes through spaces, learn all the little tricks that make things faster.”
“You make it look effortless,” Willow said. “I’ve been watching you. The way you move through this house, the way you’ve set everything up… it’s like a perfectly choreographed dance.”
“Years of practice,” Mary said with a smile. “And having a house that’s actually designed for wheelchair access makes a huge difference. My apartment was better than most, but this”—she gestured around the spacious kitchen with its carefully planned layout—“this is what accessibility should look like.”
Willow had moved into the guest bedroom with her laptop, her manuscripts, and a determination not to be a burden, a trait Mary recognized all too well in herself.
Willow was easy to live with, and Mary loved getting to know the lovely woman Casper had fallen for. She was quiet when writing, funny and engaging when they talked, and respectful of Mary’s space and routines. And having another wheelchair user in the house, even temporarily, created an unexpected camaraderie. They’d compare notes on transfers, laugh about the ridiculous things able-bodied people said, and trade tips on managing daily tasks from a seated position.
“Bert is coming over for dinner and is getting Casper to help with the grill,” Mary said. “If the weather holds, we can eat on the deck.” The deck had been one of the renovation projects for the house. It was a wide, accessible space with a gentle ramp and railings at a height that allowed someone in a wheelchair to reach comfortably.
“Those two are over here a lot,” Willow said with a knowing smile. “And Bert… well, I’m pretty sure Bert’s been in love with you for months.”
Mary felt heat creep up her neck. “We’re friends.”
“Uh-huh. Friends who look at each other like that. Friends who coordinate their schedules so they can have dinner together all the time. Friends who?—”
“Okay, okay.” Mary laughed, holding up a hand. “Point taken.”
“I’m just saying,” Willow continued, her expression softening, “what you two have? That’s special. And watching you together, watching how Bert adapts to your needs without making a big deal about it, how he’s learned your routines and anticipates what might be difficult without being condescending—that’s real, Mary. That’s the kind of partnership people dream about.”
Mary took a sip of her coffee, processing Willow’s words. Having Willow stay with her had given Mary a new perspective on her relationship with Bert. Watching Casper with Willow, and the way he’d learned to help her without hovering, the way he’d researched wheelchair techniques and accessibility issues, the way he treated her temporary disability as just another challenge to navigate together… Mary could see parallels to how Bert treated her.
“He bought the house across the street,” Mary said quietly. “There were other houses available, closer to the compound. Less of a fixer-upper. But he bought that one specifically.”
“Because he wants to be near you,” Willow said. “Because even if he hasn’t said it out loud yet, he’s already building a life that includes you at the center of it.”
That evening, when Bert’s vehicle pulled into his driveway, Mary watched him climb out, and he immediately look toward her house. Their eyes met across the distance, and he smiled that warm, genuine smile that made her heart skip, and he headed toward her.
“Hey,” he said, climbing the deck stairs and settling into the chair beside her wheelchair. “How was your day?”
“Good. Willow and I had coffee this morning, Casper brought lunch, and we’re planning on what to fix when you grill tonight.”
“I’ll go get the steaks,” Bert said, standing.
“You know you don’t have to?—”
“I’m here because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
And there it was… the thing Willow and Casper kept insisting was obvious. The way Bert looked at her, the way he showed up every day, the way he’d reorganized his entire life to be closer to hers.
Maybe they were right. Maybe this friendship was becoming something more. Maybe it already was something more, and they just hadn’t put words to it yet. But maybe soon.
Two Months Later
Mary was exhausted in a way that went beyond physical tiredness. Willow had moved into the house Casper bought, but she never lacked for company with Bert across the street. Yet their relationship hadn’t changed beyond friendship. And maybe it never would.
The past months had been intense at LSIMT, with increasingly complex operations requiring intricate coordination. She’d handled it all with her usual efficiency, but the cost was showing. She was short-tempered, sleeping poorly, and found herself staring at budget spreadsheets without actually seeing the numbers.
Logan noticed because the boss didn’t miss anything related to LSIMT. He called her into his office on a Wednesday morning and closed the door, which was never a good sign. “Mary, you need a vacation,” he said without preamble.