Chapter Two
Derek
“I don’t know why the hell I’m here.”
I balled up my hands into fists, feeling the muscles of my arms bunch. My eyes were riveted on the faded pink rose woven into the rug on the floor. I wasn’t going to look up and meet the eyes of the chick across from me, the one who looked like she didn’t weight ninety pounds soaking wet. How anyone could think someone like her could make a difference for someone like me was ludicrous.
“Well.” Her voice was soft, too, like the rest of her, and she spoke in a measured tone, like most fucking doctors did. I was damned sick of them all. “I can’t give you the existentialist answer to that question, but from where I sit, you’re here because you have a group of friends who care about you, maybe more than you deserve, and who don’t want to see you get pushed out of the Army on a medical discharge. Because of that, they’ve taken it upon themselves to make sure you get to these appointments with me.”
“They’re fucking interfering morons. If I want to sit in my house until I die, it’s none of their fucking business. There’s such a thing as freedom, you know.” I flickered my gaze up to her for a nanosecond. “Which means that I’m free to sit here and ignore you until that asshole Kincaid comes back to pick me up.”
“Hey, it also means you’re free to get your ass up out of my office and leave at any time you like.” She leaned down, moving into my line of vision until I didn’t have any choice but to see her. The bright red hair was cut short, and as I watched, she ran her hand through it. “Keep in mind that I’m getting paid whether or not you cooperate. But if you don’t, you’re only hurting yourself.”
My left leg throbbed, and I told myself that was the only reason I didn’t do as she’d suggested and get the hell out of here. Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest and glowered at her.
“Oh, please.” She waved one small hand in the air, laughing. “Do you seriously think you scare me, Captain McTavis? I’ve been stared down by better men than you, I can promise. You don’t frighten me, you don’t intimidate me, and I’m not going to back down from what I said earlier. You need me. If I don’t sign off that you’re showing up for these appointments, your battalion commander is going to start the process for your discharge.”
I dropped my eyes again and set my jaw. “Maybe she should. Maybe Colonel Debbings should have drummed my ass out months ago. I’m only taking up space. I’m not any use to anyone. It would have been better if I’d died that day in Kentucky. Would have saved everyone a shit load of trouble.”
She was quiet for a few minutes, so much so that I finally looked up again, just to see if she’d fallen asleep or slipped out or gone comatose. But she was still there, those enormous green eyes staring at me, her rosebud lips pursed.
“Is this where I’m supposed to feel sorry for you or something? Because I’m not. Whether you want to know it or not, Captain McTavis, you’re a damn lucky guy. You’ve got a successful career, friends who care about you, and a body that can recover, if you let it happen. And what’s more, you’ve been given a second chance. Do you know how rare that is? Do you know how often it doesn’t happen? But you got it. You can heal and grow strong again. You can reclaim your job and your relationships.”
She stood up suddenly, startling me with the rapid movement, and walked over to stand next to my chair, pointing at me with one small finger.
“But you have to choose to take that second chance. You have to decide to do the work and make it happen. Your friends can drive you here, they can cheer you on, but they can’t do it for you. I’m here to help you get your body back, to be able to go on with less pain—but I can’t do it for you, either.
“You have to choose to live again.”
* * *
“So. How was it?”
Shaw was tentative, casting me a cautious side-glance as he rolled the Jeep out of the parking lot of the Probert Holistic Clinic. He’d shown up two hours after he’d left me there, and I’d stumbled my way from the office to the passenger seat, thinking that I’d never been so relieved to see Kincaid’s vehicle. My shirt was soaked with sweat. I could even feel rivulets of perspiration trickling down my thighs, between my legs. I knew I stank even before Shaw not-so-subtly rolled down the windows.
I grunted in answer to his question, turning my head away from him. “How do you think it was? A fucking walk in the park? Wait, scratch that. I couldn’t manage to walk in any park.” Running a hand over my face, I exhaled. “It was . . . I don’t know. Painful. Hard.”
All of that was true, and yet . . . it had been different, too. I didn’t know exactly why, but for some reason, when the steely-eyed Ms. O’Hare had run me through the movements and exercises, I’d actually made a decent attempt at them. I’d worn a scowl the whole time, sure, and I’d snapped her head off when she’d tried to give me corrections, but still—I’d followed directions. I wasn’t sure if it was that this woman simply wouldn’t take no for an answer or if it was that her approach was different, but whatever, I’d suffered through the session.
I’d been flat on my back, the supine position excruciatingly painful, when she’d taken hold of my ankles and gently manipulated my legs back toward me until my thighs were pressed into my abdomen. As she’d done it, suddenly the back pain disappeared. My leg still hurt, but it wasn’t quite as intense as it had been.
“Did anyone give you this exercise?” She’d been leaning over me, her small face near my bent knees as she tilted her head inquiringly. “It’s fairly simple, but it’s also very effective for easing strain, unlocking your vertebrae and relaxing tensed muscles.”
“I—I don’t remember.” I’d hardly been able to speak between the amazing feeling of not hurting for the first time in months and the fact that a woman was crouching next to me, her hands warm on my legs—the first time that had happened in months, too. I’d been working hard not to pop a boner, which would have been just the humiliation I’d needed to cap off this fucker of a day.
“Well, you should try to do to it at least three to four times a day—more if you can. Do you have a yoga mat at home?”
I’d shaken my head. “Yoga is for pussies.”
“Well, isn’t that a coincidence, because yoga is part of the plan I’m making up for your treatment. So I guess you better invest in a mat pretty soon, pussy cat.” She’d smirked, and for the first time in my memory, I kind of wanted to hit a girl. Unfortunately, the relief I was experiencing was making me a little too Zen to move at all. Instead I made a noise deep in my throat. Whether she took that for consent or disagreement didn’t matter much to me.
And then her face had softened for just a split second. It wasn’t pity, and it wasn’t sympathy. I thought what I saw might have been understanding. Some kind of empathy. Before I could figure it out, it was gone, replaced by professional curiosity.
“Are you sleeping okay?” The question was so abrupt, so far from the trail down which my own thoughts were wandering that I took a minute to translate it.
“Uh . . .”
“Hmmm. I’m going to take that as a no. Is it onset or maintenance?” When I looked at her blankly, she clarified, “Do you have trouble falling asleep or staying asleep?”
The truth was both, but I’d decided to err on the side of caution. “Falling asleep.”
Ms. O’Hare had nodded. “What are you doing to solve that problem?”
I’d turned my face away. “Most nights, I have a long conversation with my buddy Jack Daniels until I finally drop off.”
If I’d thought she was going to pass judgement on that choice, I’d have been wrong. “Yeah, that’s fairly typical. But it’s not something you can keep doing without some pretty shitty side effects. I can give you some tools to deal with insomnia, but I have a hunch it’s a temporary situation, possibly exacerbated by your lack of movement during the day. I assume you used to be fairly active, yes?”
I’d winced. The used to be was what hurt; it struck at the heart of my deepest fear. “Yeah.”
“Your body is used to that activity level, and it’s learned to need rest in equal measure to the energy expended. Now that you’re not using up the energy, everything is thrown off. Once you’re working as hard as I’m going to require, I think falling asleep at night is going to be the least of our worries. But until then, I have a couple of things that will help.”
“Drugs? Because I don’t want drugs.” I was adamant about that.
“No, not drugs.” She’d imitated my way of saying the word, and again, I was tempted to swat at her, like I used to with my kid brother. “I’m going to give you some very basic movements, some breathing exercises, and some essential oils. It’s all natural stuff.”
And she had. I’d left the clinic with a folder full of papers and a bag of tiny glass bottles that clinked together as I lurched forward. Thinking of them now, I opened the bag and peered inside.
“What’s that, man? The doc give you some good pharmaceuticals?” I knew Shaw was making a joke, but I didn’t find it amusing.
“No. I can’t handle those. She gave me some kind of hippie oils.” I used two fingers to pick up one of the bottles. “This one’s lavender.”
“Oh, essential oils? Yeah, Dee uses those. I think Samantha does, too.” He chuckled. “The other day, I was standing next to Max at the start of PT, and dude smelled like a fucking flower bush. He said it was something Sam was rubbing on his chest, because he had a cough.”
“Huh.” I opened the miniscule cap and took a sniff. “This doesn’t smell too bad. Kind of like my grandma.”
“What’s it for?” Shaw cast me a curious glance.
“I guess it’s supposed to help me sleep.” I set my lips together, unwilling to say anything more.
“Huh.” My buddy was silent for a few minutes. “Hey, Mac. I know you were pissed at me today for dragging you to that clinic. I get that.”
“Pissed isn’t exactly the word I’d use.” I gritted my back teeth.
“Yeah, duly noted. But the thing is . . . you got to do something here. You’ve been back for months now. We all miss you. There’s, like, a hole in our group where you should be. And I get that it’s been hard on you and that you’re dealing with shit we can’t even begin to understand. But we want you back. We want to be there for you. If that means doing stuff you don’t like, well . . . so be it. We’re not giving you up without a fight. You matter, Derek. You’re one of us.”
Fuck it all, now I had a lump in my throat. I wasn’t the kind of guy who liked to sit around sharing my feelings. I didn’t know any man who enjoyed that. But hearing Shaw open up, I couldn’t stay silent. He’d been by my side during the worst of this whole shit-show, and I owed him something.
“I know that. I guess I do, anyway. It’s not that I don’t appreciate it—all of it. The dinners you guys bring by, the times you just come hang out, even if I’m rude and shit. You haven’t given up on me. But maybe I’m giving up on myself. I hear what everyone says about needing to keep the appointments and make some kind of effort, so that I don’t get kicked out of the Army. At first, that idea scared the hell out of me. But then I started thinking . . . maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe this is the point where my life changes. Everything happens for a reason, right?”
“Derek, that’s crap. And you know it.” Shaw took the corner adjacent to my house and slowed to a stop at the curb. “You love this life more than anyone I know—except maybe Max, and since Samantha came along, you might even beat him. This isn’t the end of the road for you—it’s just a bump. It was one you didn’t anticipate, but it’s not one you can’t get over.” He was quiet for a second, staring at his hands as they gripped the wheel. “That day, at Fort Campbell . . . it was scary as fuck, seeing what happened to you. I thought at first that you weren’t going to make it. And then later, in the hospital, we weren’t sure you’d walk again. But you did it. I know this process hasn’t been easy, but dammit, man, you’re so close to being back to where you were.”
I swallowed, the sound loud in the confines of his car. “I don’t know that I’m ever going to get back there, Shaw. The doctors made that clear. They said I might never fully regain everything I’ve lost. And I don’t think I can handle being the guy who’s not quite up to the rest of you. I don’t want to be Derek, the dude who you all feel sorry for. I want to be like the rest of you. I want everything to be exactly the way it was before, or else I don’t want any part of it all. Can you understand that? Can’t you see what it’s like to be almost back? To be almost whole? It’s friggin’ hell.”
“But sitting in your house drinking yourself to death isn’t going to get you from almost back to completely.” He sounded so sure, so confident, that I wanted to puke. “Keeping your appointments with the cute red-headed chick—that’s what’s going to move you to where you want to be.”
I snorted. “Yeah, sure. Stretches, exercises, affirming thoughts and essential oils are going to make me a man again. You really buy that?”
Shaw pinned me with a glare. “If that’s what she says, then hell, yeah, I believe it. It’s a step, at least. Even if it isn’t the last step, it’s one that’s taking you closer to where you need to be.” He unbuckled his seat belt. “All righty, then. Enough of the pep talk for today. You look worn out. Need me to help you inside?”
I shot him the bird. “No, I don’t need you to help me into my own damn house. What’s next? You going to tuck me in and kiss me on the forehead?”
“No way, man. You need that kind of TLC, you better find yourself a woman. I got my own waiting for me.” His eyes lit up. “Hey, that reminds me. You haven’t really gotten to know Dee very well, since she and I didn’t get serious until after you were hurt. Why don’t you come over some night and have dinner with us? She’s a damn good cook. We could even invite one of her friends over. Make it like a double date.”
I took off my seat belt, too, and reached for the door handle. “No, thanks. I don’t need anyone to set me up. God almighty, Kincaid, I just told you I’m not sure what the rest of my life is going to look like, and you think it’s a good time for me to get involved with a woman?”
“I didn’t say you had to marry anyone. It might be fun to meet someone. Maybe just be friendly, you know? Or more than friendly . . . have a one-night hook-up, for God’s sake. I don’t care. But do something to get out of this rut.”
“I don’t think fucking a random woman is going to do the trick.” As I spoke, an image of Ms. O’Hare, her eyes luminous as they gazed down at me, flashed across my mind. I gave my head a little shake. She wasn’t my type, and besides, she was annoying as hell. I pushed the thought away. “Uh, but maybe dinner would be okay.” I didn’t want to get to know his new girl. I didn’t want to start living again, not if I couldn’t have my old life back. But I owed it to my buddy to make the attempt, at least.
“Awesome. I’ll make it happen.” He hooked a thumb toward my townhouse. “Now get the hell out of my Jeep. I have to get back to the office now before Colonel Debbings sends out the MPs.”
I opened the door and eased my body down until I was standing. Pausing for a moment, I glanced over my shoulder. “Thanks for showing up today and making me go to the appointment. I’m still not sure it’s going to do any good, but I know you have good intentions. I . . . appreciate it.”
Shaw rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. Be at Delia’s Sunday afternoon for dinner. I’ll text you the address. That’s how you can show me how grateful you are.”
I heaved a long sigh. “Sure. Why not? No surprise dates, though, or I’ll turn around and leave.”
“Got it.” He inclined his head before I slammed shut the door and began hobbling up my front walk. I ached all over, I was tired enough to lie down on my neglected lawn and sleep for a week, but even so, I sensed an unfamiliar feeling that I’d been missing for a long time: hope.