All the Right Moves - By Jo Leigh Page 0,4

of here. I’m trying to study.”

He hopped off the stool. “You want me to wash this glass?”

“No. Go.” She motioned with a tilt of her head, but her gaze went to the front door when she heard it open.

It was her brother. Sitting in his wheelchair, rolling down the handicap ramp into the room.

Damn him.

Lisa walked up with her empty tray pressed to her hip and gave him the scathing look he deserved. She didn’t say a word, just turned and placed the tray on the bar so that only Cassie could see the hurt and disappointment in her blue eyes.

Unshaven, his collar-length hair poking out in search of a comb, Tommy didn’t bother to acknowledge them as he passed and started to wheel himself toward the back.

“Hold it.” Cassie stepped out from behind the bar, prepared to stop him if he didn’t respond.

But he knew better, and reluctantly wheeled around to look at her. “What?”

If the word hadn’t come out surly she might have felt more than a tug of sympathy. He was her big brother. Only two years older, yet he’d been as protective of her as a mother bear with her cub throughout their nomadic childhood going from one biker camp to the next. And she in turn had protected him in every way she knew how. But an IED on an isolated Iraqi road had taken his leg and changed him down to the core, leaving this wounded, antagonistic stranger. She wasn’t about to give up on him. No one who loved him could.

“Why are you in the chair?” she asked, blocking him so he couldn’t bolt to his buddies in the back.

“You know why.”

“If I did, would I be asking?” Her gaze fell to the T-shirt she’d given him for his birthday. “Your shirt is inside out.”

He looked down at the words Life is Good and laughed. Raising hazel eyes that were identical to her own, he blew out a sharp breath. “The leg chafes.”

“You had it refitted two weeks ago.”

“It still isn’t right,” he muttered, careful not to glance at Lisa.

“How come it only chafes when you’re feeling sorry for yourself?” Cassie held his gaze.

“Go practice your psychology bullshit on someone else.” He cursed under his breath.

Lisa turned and gave him another sour look before going to check on her tables.

“What’s her problem?”

“Gee, I don’t have to be a psychologist to figure that one out.” Cassie went back behind the bar before she said something she regretted. Part of this was her fault. She’d coddled him too much in the beginning. And when he’d bought the bar, she’d taken on the lion’s share of the responsibility, hoping like hell he’d find his strength in building something of his own. But it had been two years now, and he was still depressed, still stubbornly refusing medication or continued therapy. Unfortunately, she knew all too well that he needed to want to get better. If Lisa, who’d stuck with him through the worst of times, couldn’t get him there, what chance did Cassie have?

“You gonna pour me a beer while I go change this shirt?” He gave her a small smile, half apology, half don’t-be-mad-at-me.

That was the trouble. Maybe if she stayed angry with him long enough for him to grow up, get some counseling, they’d both be better off. He knew she had exams. He should’ve been prepared to cover for her tonight so she could study. But that wouldn’t happen. Not with him in the chair. Instead he’d spend the evening hiding from life and throwing darts with his friends.

And she’d pretend everything was going to be okay. “Yeah, I’ll get your beer.” She reached for a mug, watched him start to wheel away and decided not to let him off scot-free. “I’ll have Lisa bring it to you.”

He hesitated, his gloved hands still on the wheel rims, then without looking back, he shoved off, continuing toward the pool tables.

God, it made her sad to see him sitting in that damn chair. He should be upright, walking, doing things he hadn’t been able to do for two years. He hated the limp, but jeez, he was so lucky. He was alive. He was his own boss, he had people who cared about him. Although she’d never had to face anything that huge, so...

She streamed beer from the tap into his mug as Lisa came up to the bar. She looked defeated. Sad. If she gave up on Tom for good, Cassie wouldn’t blame her.