Bound by the Italian's Contract(82)

                “Perhaps, but she deserves better than me.”

                “I was right the first time. You’re an idiot.” Julian shifted from the extra-wide bench he’d been on to his streamline wheelchair before an assistant could reach him, giving the wheel several hard pushes that jetted him across the room.

                “Julian,” Luc shouted and his brother stopped and stared at him, his heart in his mouth for what he was about to say. “I’m sorry. So damned sorry.”

                His brother wheeled to face him, frown deepening. “For what?”

                Luc waved a hand in the air, the movement ponderous under the mountain of guilt he carried. “You wouldn’t be bound to a wheelchair if I hadn’t goaded you into that race. I know you looked back at me out of concern, and that’s why you lost your edge and fell.”

                “You can’t believe that.”

                “It’s the truth,” he said, the admission taking a long time to sort out. “I was out to prove I could be as reckless as you, but where your bravado was based on talent, mine was driven by guilt.”

                Julian sent the chair wheeling back to his brother. “Don’t think that way. I wanted to best you in that race because you were the best in Alpine, winning medal after medal. And for the record, I didn’t look back out of worry but relief. With you down, the win was in the bag. I took my mind and eyes off the game and that split-second error is why I’m resigned to a wheelchair for life. Got it?”

                Luc let that sink in, feeling some of the weight lift from him in the process. “Got it.”

                “Good.” Julian left again, but stopped at the opening to the massage pod, balancing his chair on its rear wheels and pivoting to face Luc. “It is not your fault that our family is dysfunctional. We are capable of making our own decisions. If they were bad ones, it is our own fault.”

                This time Luc cracked a smile. “You’re pretty smart for a little brother.”

                “About time you realized that,” Julian teased. “Have I told you lately you are a complete, utter ass for sending Caprice away?”

                “That was your parting remark last night, brother,” Luc said, resuming his reps with renewed vigor despite the pain of stretching the injured muscle in his leg. He was driven by anger at himself as he allowed that utilizing Caprice’s program might help him improve physically.

                Julian set his chair right and pushed through the opening. “Excellent,” he shouted. “I don’t want you to forget.”

                As if that were even possible.

                Luc did two more reps, then stopped cold, realization slamming into him with the force of a lightning bolt. His brother was right.

                He was an ass. A terrified one.

                For years he’d carried the responsibility of all that had gone wrong with those he’d loved on his broad shoulders, convinced that was his burden to bear for life. But Julian had just opened his eyes to the truth.

                It had taken him years to see that closing his eyes to his wife’s infidelity would have saved her life then, but it wouldn’t guarantee the same wouldn’t happen in the future. Chances were she would have left him at the first opportunity. Her death wasn’t his fault.

                Just as it wasn’t totally his fault that Julian was disabled for life.