Free

Chapter 34

THIRTY-FOUR

Nick

“I am in so much less pain,” I say, leaning back into the cushiony embrace of Dr. Eddington’s overstuffed chair. The chair cradles me in a way I hadn’t noticed before, the fabric soft and faintly textured under my fingertips. My arms drape over the sides, my ankle resting comfortably on my knee in a posture I wouldn’t have dared attempt a few months ago. For once, my body doesn’t feel like a map of aches and tight spots. The room seems brighter today…

Or maybe it’s just me.

“And what do you think has caused this change?” Dr. Eddington asks, his voice as steady as ever. He leans forward slightly, his stillness carrying a quiet expectation. It’s like he’s waiting for me to surprise myself.

“Yoga.” I laugh, the sound bubbling up freer than I expected. “Every Saturday for the last few weeks.”

His brows rise, just enough to mark his curiosity. “Yoga?” The word rolls off his tongue with a note of surprise, like he’s picturing me—a Marine—contorted into Downward-Facing Dog.

“Yeah.” I nod, grinning. “Took your advice. Turns out, you were onto something. It’s actually been really good for me. Physically and mentally.” I hesitate, feeling a blush creep up the back of my neck before adding, “Charlie’s the instructor.”

Dr. Eddington’s composed demeanor shifts, barely, his brow twitching as his eyes sharpen. “Charlie?”

I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. Her name alone does something to me—something warm and grounding. “Yeah. Total coincidence. First class was a bit of a surprise, but… it’s been good. Better than good.” My words tumble out, and I catch myself running a hand through my hair, a tell I don’t bother hiding. “It’s not just yoga, though. I think it’s her. Having her back in my life.” The thought settles in my chest, heavy but right. “I even cleaned my house,” I add, laughing softly. “Oh, and I’m coaching soccer for my cousin’s daughter. Can you believe that?”

Dr. Eddington leans back slightly, his fingers still steepled under his chin. “Charlie has been a source of frustration for you in the past. What do you think has changed?”

The question hangs in the air, and I shift slightly, rubbing the hem of my sleeve between my fingers. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ve changed. Maybe she has. Maybe… none of it matters. Can’t I just enjoy the fact that it’s better now?”

There’s a flicker of something in Dr. Eddington’s gaze—understanding, maybe, or the calm patience of someone waiting for me to dig deeper. “To some extent, yes. But if you don’t understand the why, it’s easy to slip back into old patterns. You told me not long ago that you felt too broken to have Charlie in your life. Has that really changed? Or are you two coming together out of convenience, out of shared wounds, instead of shared healing?”

The question lands heavier than I want to admit, stirring a shadow of doubt I’ve been trying to ignore. My chest tightens slightly, and I tap my foot against the floor in an uneven rhythm. “Man, you really know how to suck the joy out of a moment,” I say, forcing a grin to mask the knot in my stomach. “I’m moving forward. Isn’t that what you wanted from me?”

His lips curl into a small smile, his calm kindness somehow disarming. “It is. And let me be clear, you’ve made remarkable progress. When you came to me, you were barely functioning. Now, you’re sitting here, relaxed, smiling, talking about new routines and connections. That’s huge, Nick. It’s good. Really good.”

I glance at the sunlight streaking through the blinds, focusing on the warmth spilling across the floor. Charlie is the good thing , I think to myself, but I hold the thought close, afraid he’ll pick it apart if I say it aloud.

“My advice here,” Dr. Eddington continues, his voice steady and calm, “is to proceed carefully, but with clarity and a sense of purpose. If you’re going to let this woman into your life, let her in. If you’re going to open your heart, then open your heart fully. Be honest with her about how you’re feeling. Be honest with yourself.”

His words dig deep, pulling at the edges of my resolve. I think of Charlie, the way her eyes lingered on my scars last weekend. The way her touch, soft but steady, felt like acceptance in its purest form. How she stayed anyway, even when she saw the mess of me.

I nod slowly, the tension in my chest loosening just a little. “I think I can do honest with her.”

“There could be a lot of healing here,” Dr. Eddington says gently, “for both of you. But if things start feeling uncomfortable, and because healing is not linear, things will start to feel uncomfortable, don’t run from it. Open yourself to it. Experience the discomfort. Let it wash through you, let it flow. Then decide if the discomfort is worth embracing or not.”

I glance out the window, watching palms sway in the breeze. Healing isn’t linear. The thought sticks with me, echoing in the quiet space between us.

“I hear you,” I murmur, nodding again, my fingers tapping lightly on the armrest. “Embrace the suck. Kind of a Marine thing.”

Dr. Eddington sits back, a small chuckle escaping him. “That’s not exactly what I’m getting at. Don’t just embrace it, Nick. Decide if it’s worth embracing.”

“She’s worth it,” I murmur, the words slipping out before I can stop them. My chest feels lighter as I say them, the truth settling in. “I’ve always known that.”

The session shifts to other topics—my nightmares, updates on Sergeant Harper’s wife, even my newfound role as a soccer coach. Dr. Eddington listens, jotting notes as I talk, his approval clear in his subtle nods and small smiles. For once, even I can hear the progress in my own words, the change in my tone.

There was a time when survival felt like the only thing I could hope for. When I thought “fine” was the best I’d ever get.

But now? With Charlie back in my life?

Maybe, just maybe, I’m actually starting to heal.