1. Elliot #2
Slowly, so damn slowly, Brielle reaches out, hovering her hand over my busted-up thigh and knee.
Part of me wants to jerk away, to storm out of this office, this building, head straight up the mountain to my fellow ex-Army Rangers, and never leave again.
Another part, however, wants to stay. I'm frozen in place, watching this woman I barely know handle me with such care.
When her hand makes contact with my leg, a shiver runs down my spine. Even through the denim fabric of my jeans, I can feel that one touch everywhere. It doesn’t hurt, it’s… I feel… calmer. The racing thoughts and hammering self-hatred cease, and for one incredible moment, I can breathe again.
“None of this is fair,” Brielle whispers, answering my earlier question. “And you’re right, it must sound like an oxymoron for me to talk about good news when this injury took so much from you.”
I clear my throat and blink back what couldn't possibly be tears. Why is she doing this? Is this some kind of play on my emotions so I'll let her see my leg? I don't trust it, yet her words sink into my soul.
“I was going to be a career military man,” I say for some reason. “Like my father. But now what do I have?”
“Another chance to do something with your life. A change of plans. A new direction.”
“Easy for you to say,” I mumble under my breath. I’ve been an ass to everyone in my life who has tried to sympathize or help me since the incident. For the first time, however, I regret snapping at someone. Especially Brielle.
Her hand is still resting on my leg, but she removes it after a moment, leaving me bereft of her touch. The heaviness in my heart grows, the familiar feeling of a vice squeezing my lungs taking over once she’s not touching me anymore.
“I’d say we made a lot of progress today, don’t you?
” Brielle asks as she stands from the couch.
I stare at her blankly, not wanting to show any of the confusing emotions echoing in my head.
“We can work up to showing me your leg. For now, stretches three times a day will help keep the muscles from cramping.”
“That’s it?” I question, even though I should just let it go. She wants to send me away, that’s fine. It’s what I wanted, right? “You don’t want me to take my pants off?”
“Mr. Erickson, that’s indecent of you!” She clutches her proverbial pearls, her face so convincingly shocked that I think for a moment I made up the part where she said I had to strip down.
A second later, the room fills with a magical melody…
Brielle’s laughter. “Kidding, kidding,” she says after getting her giggling under control.
I want to bottle up that sound and carry it around with me.
What the hell are these thoughts? These urges? I’ve never felt this intensely about anyone or anything, short of the Army Rangers.
“Not today,” Brielle confirms. “We made some emotional progress, which is on par with physical progress as far as I’m concerned. Especially in traumatic events.” Again, I’m left speechless, though that’s not usually a problem for me. The fewer words I have to speak, the better.
“Great,” I manage to rasp out as I stand from my seat. “So, I’m done here?”
Brielle rolls her eyes but keeps that smile on her face. “Yes, Elliot. I’ll see you next week, where I hope to make more progress.”
I open my mouth, then close it again, not sure what to say. Brielle simply nods and opens the door of her office, ushering me out. When the door closes behind me with a click, I finally snap out of whatever trance I was in.
When I get out to my truck, I lean over the steering wheel and take a few breaths. While that was the least physically exhausting appointment I’ve been to, I somehow still feel like I was hit by a bus.
Shaking my head of those thoughts, I pull out my phone and give Cassian a call.
He, along with Huxley and Wilder were all there that fateful day the grenade nearly took our lives.
The three of them have been up here in the Smoky Mountains for months now, working on rebuilding an old mining town that was abandoned years ago.
They’ve made quite a bit of progress, and I must say I’m impressed.
I only wish I were in better physical condition so I could help out more.
“Elliot, aren’t you supposed to be in PT right now?” my friend asks as soon as he answers my call.
“Already done. New girl today. Didn’t make me do much.”
Cassian sighs. “I hope this one sticks,” he says, though his tone is filled with doubt.
“Just calling to see if we need any supplies while I’m here in town.”
“Ah. Um...” There’s a pause, and I know what he’s going to say before he even says it. “You should probably call Wilder and ask. He’d have a better idea of what we need.”
My stomach twists and then drops like a rock to the floor of my truck. Wilder.
“You can’t keep up the silent act forever,” Cassian says after a bit. “Okay, fine. Maybe you could. But then what’s the point of moving up here? You have to talk to him eventually. Why not now?”
I grunt, knowing he's right but not wanting to admit it. I guess today is a big day of firsts for me. First time being captivated by a woman, however off-limits and inappropriate it is, and the first time talking with Walker since everything went down.
“Fine,” I growl, hanging up the phone. I know my friend understands.
I hover my thumb over Wilder’s phone number, debating on whether to call him or not. “Stop being so weak,” I tell myself. Taking a deep breath, I press down on the phone screen and lift the phone to my ear, hoping he’s busy and doesn’t pick up.
“Elliot?” Wilder asks, trying to mask his surprise. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say before clearing my throat and trying again. “Just in town at the VA.”
Silence stretches between us as I try to think of anything to say.
I know Wilder thinks I’m mad at him or that I blame him for the trap we all walked into on that fateful day.
I don’t. Not at all. None of us could have guessed the enemy would sacrifice their own civilians to take out one of our units.
We were on what we thought was a rescue mission when…
“You there?” Wilder asks, making me wince.
I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t know how to talk to Wilder without having flashbacks of that day.
It’s hard seeing my friends move on and live their best lives when I’m still picking up the pieces of my shattered dreams. I’d never tell them that, of course.
Still, I’m now the odd man out in more ways than one. Not only did I return stateside with more damage than my friends, but all three of them also went and found women. I suppose that’s what I get for being a bitter asshole. Or, as Brielle put it, a grumpy butt.
“Yeah, sorry. I, uh, got done early with…” I trail off, not knowing if talking about my physical therapy will upset Wilder. “Well, anyway, I’m in town and getting ready to head up the mountain and wondered if we need any supplies while I’m here.”
“Oh. Uh, no, we’re good,” he replies, stuttering out his words. “Thanks, though,” he adds.
“Yup,” I acknowledge with a nod even though he can’t see me. “So, guess I’ll see you when I get up there.”
“Sure. Yeah. Sounds good.” Neither one of us says anything for a few seconds, then finally Wilder tells me goodbye.
Jesus, that was awkward.
As I lean back against the headrest and grip the steering wheel until my knuckles are numb, I can’t help but think this is going to be a long-ass healing process, both physically, and with the relationships I’ve let go in the last few months.
Even though I have at least a hundred other things to worry about and obsess over, my mind wanders back to one bright and bubbly Brielle. Lord, how am I going to get through this?