Wade
Ember Ridge sat to the north of Firefly Cove, hidden among the sprawling landscape of the Georgia coast. It was another small town with nosy neighbors, few amenities, and a couple of hidden gems.
My buddy Sterling lived on the outskirts of the small town, having been raised on one of the largest ranches in the state. His father was a big-time bronc rider who had retired after a one-night stand dropped Sterling on his doorstep.
He went from riding broncs to roping a toddler in eight seconds, flat.
Their ranch, passed down from one generation to the next, embodied old money. They had state-of-the-art facilities, plenty of hired help, and one of the most successful breeding programs in the state.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t there to hang out and shoot the shit around a bonfire at the Morgen Ranch.
After a little over two hours of driving, I pulled into the parking lot of the Ember Ridge Recovery Center, idling my truck in one of the empty spaces near the back of the lot.
I’d made it this far, and I couldn’t back down now. I checked the clock, the LED lights glaring in the dark cab: two in the morning.
When I’d spoken to the intake coordinator on the phone, she had said they are open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. They knew that walking through those sliding glass doors was half the battle, so they made themselves available whenever the need arose.
With a heavy sigh, I cut the engine and unbuckled my seatbelt. One step at a time. I could do this if I took it one fucking baby step at a time.
I snagged my duffel bag from the back seat, slinging it over my shoulder as I locked the truck and walked slowly toward the front doors of the building.
It was quiet out. The same peaceful feeling of being on the ranch washed over my skin, giving me an added edge of confidence.
A stone walkway led to a massive overhang that shielded the front doors. Wooden benches lined its edges alongside planters filled with flowers.
I had expected it to feel more sterile, seeing how it was a medical treatment facility, but nothing about this building stood out as clinical. It felt oddly welcoming with each measured step I took closer to the entrance.
A large part of me was looking for something to be wrong with this situation. Each step of the way, I’d been met with perfect timing, calm surroundings, and an easy cadence to my breathing. I wanted a reason for me to get back in my truck and drive back to Firefly Cove, losing myself in Ray.
Yet, as if the stars were aligning, and Ma was whispering in my ear, I kept walking toward hopeful healing and growth. I couldn’t go back to Ray the same broken man I was when I left.
The automatic doors opened with a whoosh, and I stepped into the brightly lit foyer. It smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, a warm and welcoming hug of fragrance as I eased my way toward the front desk.
The middle-aged woman sitting behind the desk looked up with a wide smile, adjusting her glasses up on the bridge of her nose and standing to greet me.
“Welcome to Ember Ridge. You must be Wade,” she said sweetly as she rounded the edge of the desk with her hand outstretched. “I’m Lydia, one of the intake coordinators here. We’re happy to have you.”
I didn’t trust myself to speak, afraid of what might come out, but I took her small hand in mine and gave it a brief shake.
“Why don’t we head back to my office and go over a few things? Do you have everything with you that you’ll need?”
I nodded again, clearing my throat of the emotion that was bubbling up. “Yes, ma’am.”
Everything about this was beginning to feel real, and I could feel the tightness of anxiety clawing at my chest with each step we took away from the front doors.
She led me down a series of hallways, stopping outside of a wooden door while she found the key and unlocked it.
She motioned for me to enter; I stepped around her and placed my duffel bag down on one of the plush chairs in the corner.
I lowered myself into one of the chairs in front of her desk but was surprised when she didn’t take the seat opposite me.
Instead, she sat down in the chair beside me and crossed one of her legs over the other.
“I’m sure this has to be exceptionally overwhelming,” she said, grabbing a notebook and pen off the top of her desk and setting them in her lap.
“We try to make the process here at ERRC as painless as possible, but unfortunately, healing isn’t linear, and I can’t promise that any part of your journey will be easy. ”
I scrubbed my sweaty palms down the thighs of my jeans, once again clearing my throat before speaking. “Yes, ma’am. I understand.”
She nodded once, uncapped the pen, and opened the notebook to a blank page.
“I want to start with gathering some basic information about you, Wade. I’m going to be writing things down so that I can input them after we get you settled.
We try to keep things as nonclinical as possible because we’ve seen that it helps with a patient’s trust in us.
This whole facility is built on a high level of trust. We aren’t here to lock you in, take away all of your rights to the outside world, and beat happiness back into your body. ”
Somehow, a chuckle passed my lips, and I watched as the corners of Lydia’s mouth turned up in another gentle smile.
“So, Wade. In your own words, why are you here?”
I thought about the anger, the snippiness, the nightmares, the pain. All of that paled in comparison to the shame I felt when I looked in the mirror and saw the pathetic man looking back at me.
“I look in the mirror, and I hate the man I see.” I watched as Lydia wrote down what I said, a look of determination marring her features.
“And when did this start, or has it been a constant feeling?”
A rush of anxious adrenaline coursed through my body, and I felt my hands begin to shake.
I tried to avoid thinking about the incident in the light of day.
It could stay in the recesses of my mind, coming out to haunt me in my dreams, but thinking about it when the world was moving around me made it feel too real.
I wished more than anything that I could just forget it had happened.
“I can tell that this is a sensitive topic for you. So, please take your time.”
I leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees, running my fingers through my hair and bringing my hands to the back of my neck, lacing my fingers together. Looking down at my boots, I sighed.
“I wasn’t always this way.” I picked at the skin around my nails, not able to look the coordinator in the eyes.
“I used to laugh, joke, and live life to its fullest. I was the fun one in our group. Last year, my brother’s girlfriend and her daughter were kidnapped.
Well, I guess Charlie was kidnapped, and Stella couldn’t wait for the damn police to do their jobs, so she went after her.
My brother, Max, and I went into the warehouse after we realized Stella had run after Charlie.
When we arrived at the building, we heard gunshots.
Stella had managed to shoot the guy holding her hostage, and Max went on to rescue her daughter from the tweaked-out crackhead keeping her locked up in another room.
As Stella and I were leaving, the stupid fucker—” I paused. “Sorry about my language, ma’am.”
Lydia laughed, putting her pen down to rest on top of her notebook. “Wade, I’ve seen and heard the worst demons in people’s lives. A little brash language isn’t going to scare me. You say what you need to say, in whatever way you need to say it. I’m here to listen, not to judge.”
Nodding, I continued, “As Stella and I were leaving, the guy who had been holding her hostage, the one she’d managed to shoot in the leg, hobbled his way out behind us.
He was able to fire one shot from his handgun before the sheriff shot back.
Unfortunately, that fucking bullet went right in my back.
I know I should feel grateful that I’m alive, and don’t get me wrong, I am. But the bullet managed to graze my spine, missing my spinal cord and nicking some of the bone. According to the doctors, because of a previous rodeo injury, I’m at greater risk for paralysis if I were to go back to riding.”
“Were you able to get a second opinion about that diagnosis?” she asked, scribbling furiously to keep up with my rambling. “That’s a very drastic change to your lifestyle; I can only imagine how hard that must have been for you.”
I thought about that question for a second. I hadn’t sought a second opinion on what the surgeon had said. I’d taken what he’d said at face value and changed the course of my entire life.
What if there were a chance I could ride again? Hope flooded my system as I sat straighter, thoughts and plans swirling around in my head.
“I’m going to take that as a no, you didn’t get a second opinion.” Lydia chuckled, setting the pen and notebook down on her desk.
“Here’s what I think, Wade.” She turned toward me, giving me her full attention.
“I think you’ve been through something exceptionally traumatic that changed the trajectory of your entire life, causing you to question who you are at your core.
I think you’re a man who puts everyone else’s needs above his own, often to your own detriment.
But I also think that with some group and individual therapy and maybe a second opinion on your medical diagnosis, we can work together to focus on healing and getting that spark of joy back. What do you think?”
An overwhelming surge of emotion caused prickles to erupt along my skin, and I felt the pressure of tears threatening to fall from my lower lashes. Afraid to speak for fear of completely breaking down, I nodded.
“The man looking back at you in the mirror is the same man, regardless of how your mind tricks you into thinking he’s not. You are still you at the end of the day.”
I continued nodding, the dam holding the tears back breaking as they coasted down my cheeks.
“Welcome to Ember Ridge Recovery Center, Wade Daniels. I am proud of you for making the choice to become the best version of yourself, and I can’t wait to see the true man underneath the weight of all of this pain you’re holding onto.”