Page 2 of Healing Love

Once we’re both seated in her office, Brielle opens my file and reads a few lines to herself. I swear I try looking away from her, but my eyes won’t obey my command. Instead, I’m left staring at her rounded cheeks, her button nose, and full, pouty lips that I notice she nibbles on from time to time. I get the insane urge to devour her lips as well, but I shove that thought way down deep. I won’t be acting on that, of course, and not just because I’m certain Brielle would punch me in the dick if I tried to make a move.

“...So how does that sound? A few additional stretches throughout the day instead of all at night. I’m not sure what Jared was thinking when he told you that. Probably knew morning stretches would suck and didn’t want to make you mad.” She says the last part to herself, but I hear it loud and clear. She’s not wrong. I yelled at Jared for making me do painful stretches in the morning, so he switched it to before bed.

I grunt, causing Brielle to look up from the file and lock eyes with me. She gives me a stern look, and I give her one right back.

“I’m going to assume that grunt meant yes, I understand, Brielle, and I will stick to the stretch schedule you made for me so that I can heal instead of being a grumpy butt with a sore leg my whole life.”

Once again, I'm caught off-guard by this surprising woman. Did she just call me a grumpy butt?

“I, uh…” I stammer out before closing my mouth. The self-satisfied smirk spreading across her face has no business being as sexy and seductive as it is.

“Great. Now that we have that covered, go ahead and take off your pants.”

This causes me to choke out a cough, my eyes bugging out of my head. “Excuse me?” I rasp.

“Aw, the first polite thing you’ve said all day!” Brielle says, her voice somehow equal parts playful and sarcastic. After continuing to stare at her, she narrows her eyes at me. “This is my job, remember? Don’t make it weird. I just need to see your leg and how the muscle is doing. If you want, we can also discuss scar creams or even skin grafts if that’s the direction you want to go. Of course, all that is just aesthetics. The good news is, your leg will heal, the muscle will regenerate, and with the help of some all-natural supplements, we can build your bone and muscle strength.”

“The good news?” I snarl. “What part of this is good? What part of this is fair?”

Brielle doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I wonder if I finally crossed a line. I look up at her, those blue eyes reaching down into the depths of whatever is left of my soul. I don’t see hurt or anger in her gaze, nor do I see pity. I can’t quite place the emotion swimming in her sparkling eyes, but I know I’ve never seen it before.

The gorgeous, confusing, and off-limits woman stands from her desk and walks toward me slowly as if I'm a feral animal. I suppose I feel like one in this moment. She sits on the couch next to me, close enough for me to smell her sweet, citrusy scent.

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.

---