Page 21 of Healing Love

"I don't remember much after that. I woke up in several different hospitals across the world until I found myself back in the good ol' US of A. Wilder was with me for the first few surgeries, then I told him to leave. I didn't want him to see me like that. I didn't want anyone to see my weakness. My shame."

“Elliot, no. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You were injured in the line of duty. You sacrificed your health and put your life on the line in service of others. That’s the greatest thing anyone can do, whether in the military or not.”

I worry for a moment that I overstepped, but one look in Elliot’s eyes and I see that he’s soaking up every word.

“I won’t pretend to relate to what you’re going through,” I continue, noticing the little spark in his eyes at the reminder of one of our first sessions together. “All I can say is that from what you’ve told me, Wilder doesn’t know what you need, and you don’t know how to ask for what you need. At the end of the day though, he wants what’s best for you.”

“I know. I just… I can’t stand the pity in his eyes. I don’t want him to only see me as the dying man out in the field or the pathetic excuse for a human I was while recovering from surgery.”

“So, tell him that,” I suggest.

Elliot blinks at me, then slowly smiles, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “You make everything seem so easy,” he says, nuzzling into the side of my neck. “You forget that not all of us have social skills like you do.”

“It’s not easy,” I correct him. “It might be the hardest conversation you ever have. But it’s simple. Talk. Tell Wilder what you told me, and then trust that your friend, who sat with you through surgery and invited you to live on this mountain with him will hear you out.”

“You’re right,” Elliot sighs.

“I know,” I tell him with a cheeky grin.

Elliot tickles my sides, making me collapse on his chest in a fit of giggles. He wraps his arms around me once more, holding me close. “You’re too good to me,” he whispers.

“We’re good to each other,” I reply.

Elliot hums in agreement. “I like the sound of that.”

7

ELLIOT

Idropped Brielle off at work, though I tried my best to get her to call in sick so she could spend all day in bed with me. Alas, my girl has clients who depend on her, and I’m damn proud of Brielle for all the hard work she does. Knowing she got her degree while dealing with her alcoholic mother shows what kind of strength she has.

After doing my second round of stretches for the day and cleaning up my cabin a bit, I head out to the worksite to find some odd jobs to do. Until I get the all-clear from Brielle and my doctor at the VA, I’m not supposed to operate heavy machinery or lift anything over twenty pounds, so it’s mostly cleaning shit up and organizing receipts.

I smirk to myself as I think about all the extracurricular physical activities Brielle and I were engaging in over the weekend. I’m not sure I was approved for everything we did, but it was with my physical therapist, so… does that make it better, or worse?

Better. Definitely better. Everything is better with Brielle in my life.

As I round the southeastern corner of the work site, I see Wilder up ahead with his arms crossed over his chest. He's staring off into the distance, his mind a million miles away. I know that look. Even after all the shit we've been through this last year, I can tell when my friend is in distress. Not that Wilder would ever admit to being anxious or anything, but I see it all the same.

Now or never, I tell myself. Brielle’s words from yesterday filter through my mind, calming me and encouraging me to do the right thing.

It’s not easy, but it’s simple. Just talk.

Just talk, I repeat in my head as I walk over to Wilder.

I approach slowly, though it doesn’t do much good. Wilder jumps when he realizes I’m next to him. I get it. I never used to be claustrophobic or skittish, but this last year has taken its toll on all of us.

“Sorry,” I tell him, holding my hands out, palms up, in front of me.

“Oh. Elliot.” He seems genuinely surprised that I’m approaching him on my own, which is fair. Still, it stings to see how much damage I’ve done by not talking to him earlier. “No need to apologize. Really.”

I sigh, wiping a hand down my face. This is part of why it’s so hard to talk to Wilder. He takes responsibility for every bad thing, yet refuses to see any of the good he’s done. Maybe his girl, Ari, has helped with that.

“Actually, I do,” I say, clearing my throat. I glance over at my friend, watching as he turns to face me. He furrows his brow in question, and I decide to just blurt everything out. Just talk. “I’m sorry I’ve been an ass,” I start, looking away from him. “I don’t blame you for what happened overseas, and certainly not the injuries I sustained. Wilder, you saved my life and I never even thanked you. I guess…” I pause, taking a deep breath and letting it all go. “I guess there were a lot of days I wasn’t thankful to be alive,” I finally say.

Wilder is silent for a few moments, letting my words sink in. No matter his response, Brielle was right, as per usual. I feel better just getting it off my chest.

“I understand that more than you know,” he finally says, his voice quiet but firm. I take another glance at Wilder, who is staring right at me. “We all have trauma from that day.”

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