The accident had changed a lot, but Ellie’s protectiveness had kicked into overdrive. She barely let you lift a finger these days, constantly hovering like a worried hawk.

“Hey, babe, let me grab that,” she’d say if you so much as reached for a glass of water. Or, “Nope, nope—back on the couch, you’re supposed to be resting!”

It drove you a little nuts sometimes, but you could see how much she cared. Like today, for example. She’d insisted on taking you to the park, claiming you needed “fresh air and a little vitamin D,” even though she’d barely stopped asking if you were comfortable the entire time.

Now, you were rolling through the park, Ellie behind your wheelchair, her hands steady on the handles. A warm breeze rustled the leaves, and the sound of kids playing echoed around you.

“Okay, what flavor are we getting?” Ellie asked as you approached the ice cream cart. “And don’t say plain vanilla, or I’m disowning you.”

You smirked, glancing back at her. “Fine. Rocky Road. Happy?”

Her grin lit up her face. “Much better. See, this is why we work. You keep me on my toes.”

She handed over the cash to the vendor, grabbing two cones—one for you and one for herself. Handing you yours, she crouched down beside you, brushing a stray hair from your face.

“You good?” she asked, her green eyes scanning you like she was checking for invisible cracks.

“I’m fine, Ellie. Stop worrying so much.”

“Not gonna happen,” she teased, standing back up and resuming her position behind the chair. “You’re stuck with me, remember? Three years and counting.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you licked your ice cream. Even with everything that had happened, Ellie always made you feel like you were still the center of her world.