The Greatest Risk by Cara Colter

if he was looking beyond the glasses to the richness of her eyes. He could imagine the hair spinning down over her shoulders, wondered what kind of underwear she had on.
    It occurred to him it might have been a mistake to call her.
    But that feeling didn’t last. In a few moments, he knew she had been exactly the right person to call.
    They went together into Billy’s room. He was lying with his back to the door and them, looking very small and fragile under the blanket.
    â€œHi, Billy,” he said.
    â€œI don’t feel like racing wheelchairs today, Luke.”
    â€œThat’s okay. I don’t either. I brought you some breakfast.”
    â€œThanks.” But Billy did not turn toward them.
    â€œI wanted to introduce you to a friend of mine,” Luke said.
    Billy turned, the whole cocoon of his blanket turning with him.
    Maggie went forward and put out her hand, forcing him to emerge from under the blanket to take it.
    â€œI’m Maggie Sullivan.”
    â€œBilly Harmon.”
    She pulled up a chair and sat down, leaning forward, her hand cupped under her chin. “This is a lousy place to spend a gorgeous July day,” she said.
    â€œI have cancer,” Billy said without preamble.
    Luke tried to think whether Billy had ever told him he had cancer. He didn’t think so. It had been one of the nurses or Billy’s parents who had told him.
    â€œWhat kind?” she asked softly, her voice soothing.
    The floodgates opened. Billy told her what kind, and how long he’d been fighting it. Luke was astounded to know this poor kid had been in and out of the hospital since he was twelve years old. He’d lost all his hair. His friends treated him differently. His mom cried all the time.
    And Luke had been wheelchair racing with him?
    Then the boy was crying. Big racking sobs that Luke could feel inside his own body. He eyed the door, but he could see Maggie being so brave. She took the boy’s hand.
    He eyed the door once more, heard Nurse Nightmare in his mind telling him to require more of himself, and he went to the other side of the bed. He took Billy’s other hand.
    â€œLuke, I don’t want you to see me crying,” Billy choked. “Guys like you don’t cry, do they?”
    He thought of his life. Had he deliberately made it into an emotional wasteland, where there were no tears because there was absolutely nothing worth crying about? “Hey. Everybody cries.”
    â€œDo you?”
    He felt as close to it at the moment as he had felt for years, so it was no lie when he said, “Yeah.”
    â€œWhen?”
    Hell. But he suddenly remembered something. “When I was about your age I had a dog. My mom hated her. Said she made our house smell bad, and that there was dog hair on the furniture. One day I came home from school, and no more Stinkbomb.”
    â€œYou named your dog Stinkbomb?” Billy asked, and the first wisp of a grin flitted across his face.
    This was more like it! “And for obvious reasons,” Luke said. “That dog could—” He suddenly remembered Maggie. “Uh, let’s just say the dog was an impressive performer in the stink department.”
    â€œSo, your Mom was right?” Maggie asked. “The dog made the house smell bad?”
    Luke frowned. He had never once in his life considered the possibility that his mother might have been right about anything. Had the dog really made life that uncomfortable for other people?
    The problem with a girl like Maggie was she might make you look at your whole life from a different, deeper, more mature perspective. And who wanted to do that?
    â€œYou cried when Stinkbomb went missing?” Billy asked.
    â€œLike a baby.” He didn’t add that then he’d gone out on a stolen motorbike and had his first extremely impressive wreck. He’d broken his leg in four places.
    But the admission that Luke had a softer side seemed to ease