12. Broken Boys
Broken Boys
Sheridan
Was Viola ever worried about transporting the food? Just a few minutes after we take off, it feels like we’re landing in a little field in the woods.
But the field isn’t only surrounded by woods. There’s a massive log building in front of us. My first impression is a hunting lodge, but this is supposed to be a rehabilitation facility.
There are two people in suits waiting for the helicopter to come to a stop.
“Mrs. Allan, it’s so nice to see you. Gabe was notified of your imminent arrival. He is currently in the weight room,” the man in the fancier suit says.
Who lets a child go into the weight room? Though Daire and Lorcan were both teenagers. Older teenagers at that. If Gabe was playing sports in high school, he might be used to spending his days in a weight room.
“It would be my pleasure to escort the two of you there.”
Viola shakes her head at him. “I know the way. There are several coolers in the helicopter. Could you please ensure that they are delivered to Gabe’s suite?”
“Of course. Do you require a chef to finish the preparations or plate them for you?”
Um, what? Rehab places barely change a patient's sheets. They certainly don’t arrange to have private chefs sent to suites.
Suites…this must be a rehab facility for the super-rich.
I’ve stepped into a whole new world. One I wish every sick person had access to. There’s no way I could ever afford to send Grammie to a place like this.
The dementia unit she’s in does a good job taking care of her. You’re giving her the best you can. You can’t compare yourself to a billionaire.
As we walk through the space, it feels more like a fancy hotel than any medical facility I’ve ever been in.
The only thing that feels the same is a few of the tacky art pieces that you see on every doctor’s wall.
But sprinkled around are a few forest paintings that are quite pretty. Were they painted around here?
Possibly.
Viola walks up to a double door and stops. Her hand just sits there on the handle, unmoving.
“What’s wrong?”
“What if he tells me to leave?” The fear in her voice is palpable.
The truth is the only answer that you can give. “Then you leave. But you do it knowing that you tried your best to keep the lines of communication open. And when he’s ready, he’ll reach out.” I set my hand on hers. “We should go say hello.”
She nods and gently pushes it open.
This isn’t like any weight room that I’ve ever seen. It’s more of a fully-stocked gym with all the most up-to-date gadgets to play on. Gabe must love this place.
Except there aren’t any teenagers working out.
The room holds only two people. They’re both men in their thirties.
One has his back to us. The other is in a military PT uniform. Army PTs to be exact.
Why would they let anyone from the military into this place? Don’t they have their own top-of-the-line facilities to help rehab wounded warriors?
Viola makes a beeline to the other guy. She must be asking him where Gabe went.
I could stand here looking awkward…or I could go try to say hi to the military guy.
Choices that aren’t choices.
Focused. That’s the only way to describe this guy, as he’s bench-pressing an insane amount of weight without a spotter.
The bar should be bending right about now.
“You do know it’s polite to leave some weights for other people.
” There’s just a tinge of sass in my voice so he knows I’m not being serious.
“If they wanted some, they should have gotten up before me.” He doesn’t look up, which is just fine with me.
Don’t drop the heavy thing, because I wouldn’t be able to save you. “That’s exactly what my pen pal would say.”
“Pen pal?” He sets the bar on the rack and hoists his body up.
Do not drool over all those lovely muscles. You’re here to encourage and support, not ogle. “Yes, I’m pen pals with a major in the army.”
“You two dating?”
EWWW. “No. I’ve been writing to him since I turned seven. He’s about to retire and happily married with a handful of kids.”
“You’re really pen pals with some random guy in the Army?” He raises an eyebrow, which looks like it hurts, with the angry-looking wound that’s healing on the other side of his face.
“Yup. It’s a town tradition where I live for every woman to get a pen pal to write. Usually they’re not assigned until we turn eighteen, but I liked writing people, so I started early.” It’s one of the corny traditions in Beach Haven that I actually like.
“Wait. That’s actually real. I thought it was just an urban legend. A myth running through the barracks.”
Not even close. “Nope. One of the town’s founder’s sons went into the military, and she’d write him every week.
Then he mentioned one of his friends never got any letters from home, so she started writing his friend too.
Then it kind of snowballed, and she got other members of the Ladies League involved. Now the whole town does it.”
“Do you know the secret to getting a pen pal?”
I lean forward and whisper, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
He chuckles for the first time instead of glaring at me.
“But if you know of someone, slide me their info, and I’ll make sure they’re hooked up.” The Ladies League president doesn’t hate me.
“Did one of your group really send a freezer full of ice cream to her pen pal?”
Oh, I remember that story. “Yeah. That was a while back. Most of us stick to cookies or brownies when they’re stationed stateside and prepackaged stuff when they’re overseas.”
“What do you send?”
“Blondies.”
“They any good?”
I shouldn’t feel insulted. This guy is a total stranger. “They are passable.”
He chuckles again.
The rough sound makes me happy. Kindness is worth the effort. Maybe the two birds with one stone might work in this circumstance too. Viola said her grandson was having problems. A good role model here in rehab might help. “I made a batch this morning.”
“Oh, did you?”
“Sure did.” This sort of bribery is evil, but brilliant. “My friend’s grandson is here. The kid was really hurt in an accident. We made them to cheer him up. They’re back in his suite. If you want to say hello and snag one.”
“Kid? There aren’t any kids here.”
Oh, I was right in thinking he was older. “A teenager…maybe in his early twenties.”
“There aren’t any kids here. I do think they treat people of all ages here, but I haven’t seen anyone under, like, twenty-five-ish.”
That’s odd.
“Have you met this kid? You haven’t, have you?”
“It’s rude to read my mind.”
He laughs again. “Noticing things is kind of important in my line of work.”
“Wait, I thought Army guys were just used for target practice?”
“Feels like it sometimes.” He glares at his leg that’s wrapped and in a fancy-looking brace.
“Can they find the pieces of the other guy?”
He frowns. “Normally, I’d be able to reply to that with a resounding no, but sadly this was a friendly-fire situation.”
Oh…oh no. “So has the kid finished doing sit-ups?”
“Probably not.” A small smile eeks out of him.
“I’d say next time try to make yourself a smaller target, but it seems like you’re just trying to grow more muscles so the bullets bounce off next time.” That has to really mess with his head if he plans to return.
“That’s the plan.”
Does that mean there’s a path to full recovery for him? I hope so. He seems like a nice guy. “They keeping you here long?”
“We don’t have a set date, but it will be a while.”
“Do you need a pen pal while you’re here?” Why did I say that? Because he looked so determined and alone when I walked in.
“I wouldn’t say no.”
“Well then, be prepared to be entertained by my witty written banter and funny stories that shouldn’t be funny.” Should I send him my funny alien stories?
“Oh really? That funny?”
“Well, it all started with a one-eyed dog who was missing his front leg.” Tripod would make anyone smile.
“Sheridan, come on over and meet my grandson,” Viola shouts without raising her voice, as only mothers seem to be able to do.
Grandson? But that man is old.
“He isn’t the kid you thought he was.”
No. No, he isn’t. Why would Viola take me to meet a thirty-some-odd-year-old man…No. That’s devious. Impressive and devious. It’s not going to happen. There’s no way I’m going to date her grandson because he’s hurt and lonely.
Though I just agreed to write a total stranger. “Save me.”
“I don’t think I can do that. She looks pretty determined.”
Viola does. For a sweet grandma-type, there’s a look in her eye that makes me think I would lose in a battle of wills with her. “Come with me to say hello.”
“Are you trying to get me killed?”
“There are the best blondies in the world in it for you if you help save me.”
He chuckles. “What makes you think I can be bought?”
“Eh, you would have come anyway. That’s what heroes do. They risk their lives to save others. And for the best treats.”
“Fine. But if she chews me up and spits me out, tell my father I died with honor.”
It’s my turn to giggle. “What’s your name?”
“Deacon.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Deacon.”