5. Ed
5
ED
T he entire drive back to my cabin, all I can think about is Avery and her frustration at me for not participating in her exercises. She’s pissed at me. And I don’t blame her. I behaved like a stubborn ass. But fuck if I’m going to contort my face and drool all over myself in front of her. No fucking way.
I don’t want her to see me like that. I’ll do the exercises at home, but I will not drool in front of Avery Monroe.
My pickup bumps over the gravel road as I pull up in front of the cabin I’m staying at until the doctors finish with me.
I dodge the missing plank of wood on the decking to get to the door. My key sticks, and it takes a few turns to release the rusty lock. It creaks as the door opens, and a small animal scurries away into a hole in the floorboards.
I pull my sleeping bag up off the floor and shake it out, checking for droppings. If I was sticking around, I’d do some minor repairs to make this place more livable. But there’s no point when I’m only here until the doctor discharges me. Or until I learn to speak again. But when I’m out in the middle of the woods, I don’t have many good reasons to want to talk.
Especially with Avery Monroe doing the speech therapy. Damn that woman with her eager smile and hopeful eyes. She can’t be long in the job, and I’m the shittiest patient ever.
She’s got the same color eyes as Jake, green as emeralds and as observant as a hawk. Jake missed nothing, which is why I still can’t accept that he went the way he did.
My mind plays over the last few moments of our last mission. We were deep in Colombia on a top secret mission to capture a drug lord. The government had a tip-off he was coming out of hiding for a meet-up, and the Columbian government asked for our help. Off the record of course. Like a lot of the work we do.
Out intel had two tangos in the house, but when I staked out the back, I saw another three and a cache of weapons.
They knew we were coming, and one tango was holding a grenade. I called it over the headset, but I was too late. Jake went in. He went in on his own.
I rushed after him, and the rest is a blur. The explosion threw me. I broke my jaw, injured my knee, and blacked out. I came to with Marcus dragging me through the jungle, leaving a trail of blood from the bullet he caught in the thigh.
We got out but not all in one piece.
Jake took the drug lord out with him. But if I’d gotten the intel in time, he wouldn’t have gone in. He’d be here now, and his sister wouldn’t have sadness behind her pretty green eyes.
I slam my fist on the wooden table pushed against one wall of the shack. It comes down hard on the worn wood, and the table cracks in two.
Splinters fly across the room, and one implants in my fist.
Fuck.
This place is shitty enough as it is, and now I’m destroying it.
I tug out the splinter and chuck it in the trash. Under the table is a plastic storage box, and I check it for damage. There’s none. The VHS tapes inside seem to be all in good order, as good as they can for being thirty something years old.
It’s a miracle I’ve kept hold of them through five different foster homes and several deployments. I won’t let the racoons and rotting wood get them now.
I tuck the tapes into a corner and haul the broken table outside. Grabbing my axe, I get to work chopping the table into firewood sized pieces.
By the time I’m done, I’m ready to face Avery again.
Jake’s will reading is this afternoon, and I’ll have to face his entire damn family. I heard Amos is back on leave for it.
They’ll wonder why the hell I’m there. Hopefully I can get his military gear or whatever shit he left me and fuck off back here to be alone.