Wide Awake Read Online Free PDF Page B

therapist slash tattoo artist?"
He chuckled in a hesitant way. "Yeah. Long story."
    I wondered—did I have any tattoos that I didn't know about? I had twelve earring holes that I had found. Who knew what I'd done to myself in my teenage rebellion.
    "So," he clapped and smiled, "you can sit up today. We're just going to work on your arms, all right?"
    I nodded and waited for instruction. I watched as he went to the table, taking his MP3 player from his pocket. He set it up with a little square speaker and soon, Keep Your Head Up by Andy Grammer started playing through the room.
    I knew who that was! I smiled hugely. He turned to find me that way and stopped with a slow smile. "What's that for?"
    "Nothing," I told him and tried to rein in my grin. "It's just...knowing that song made me suddenly giddy."
    "Understandable. It's funny how the mind chooses what it wants to remember." He let the rail down on my bed and grinned at me as he bobbed his head to the music. "Ready, little puppet?" I nodded and let him take my right arm. "All right, take this first." He put a little rubber ball in my hand. "Squeeze that in your palm in a slow, but steady rhythm. Follow the beat."
    I tried to do what he said. Not only could I barely squeeze the ball in my hand, but it actually hurt to try. I hissed and gave him a look. "I know," he said sympathetically. "This part sucks. In fact, the next few weeks are going to suck, but if you want to get back to normal, you've got to push through this part. I do things a little unconventionally, but if you trust me, we'll get you back to it in no time."
    I squeezed harder and pretended that the pain was what I wanted.
    Next, we worked on my arms. He had me lift them straight out in front of me and hold them there. He helped me lift my arms above my head and pass the ball back and forth between my hands. Then he had me push my palm against his. That hurt worse than anything else we'd done.
    I sucked air through my teeth and closed my eyes, but didn't stop pushing back. First, we were palm to palm, and then he changed it to lacing our fingers and holding our arms out straight, but bent at the elbow. He gripped my other shoulder to steady me as I pushed. I still had my eyes squeezed shut. When my arm stopped straining and began to shake and wobble, I stopped pressing and rested, surprised by how labored my breaths were.
    With my hand still in his, I opened my eyes and tried to catch my breath, but lost it again to find him so close to me. He was sitting on the edge of my bed, his grip on my arm the same as before. I couldn't look away. The way he watched me was so protective; I didn't really understand it.
    I licked my lips nervously and when his eyes watched the movement, I knew something was different than it had been before, but when his eyes met mine once more, I saw something else.
    Regret.
    He slowly pulled back and swallowed loudly, removing his fingers slowly from mine. "Tomorrow, we'll focus on the legs. We'll see how you're doing with that and where we need to work most."
I nodded and looked at my lap. I felt so self-conscious. Would the old me have jumped in his lap and kissed him? Or slapped him because I apparently…had a boyfriend? I had no idea how to react. If I were being honest, Mason was on some pedestal that I never meant to put him on.
    "Emma?" he whispered. When I didn't answer, I felt his fingers under my chin, lifting my head to force me to look at him. I stared silently. "Emma…you are a really great girl, but I…"
    Girl…
    I sighed and closed my eyes for a pause. I knew what else was coming, so I forged on to stop him. "I understand."
    "Do you?" he asked softly, not even a hint of snide.
    I nodded. "I'm too young, and I come with lots of baggage, right? I get it."
    He sat back, taking his hands with him. "That's not what I meant-"
    "Emma?" I heard from the door. Mason growled under his breath and stood. Andrew, oblivious to Mason, was all smiles and came forward. He bent and