Page 3 of Healing Love

“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?

2

BRIELLE

“Seriously? He still didn’t like the property? It seemed like it had everything he listed off,” I tell my friend, Calista, over the phone. We usually call each other on our lunch breaks or spend the time sending each other funny memes and TikToks. Today, she needed to vent.

“It was perfect," she says with an exasperated sigh. "An old warehouse that had been converted into a dance studio. Obviously, he wants a motorcycle club instead of a dance studio, but with all the wide open spaces, construction would be so easy and cheap! Comparatively, of course. There was a huge lot out back with plenty of parking, and the whole thing was sitting on six acres of land ready to be developed into anything he could want."

My friend takes a breath after her rant, then crinkles what I assume is a bag of her favorite chips. A second later when I hear her crunching away on the other line, I know I was right. Smiling to myself, I’m reassured that some things never change. Calista may be across the country, all the way down in Texas, but dill pickle-flavored chips and iced tea are still her favorites.

“So, what went wrong?” I ask.

Another dramatic sigh echoes through the other end of the line, making me smile even wider at my friend. She’s always had a bit of a flare for theatrics, which is one of many reasons why I love her. And why I miss her now that she’s officially living in Texas and has her first real estate client.

"He said the gravel lot wasn't done correctly and the bigger rocks would ruin his motorcycle. I told him he might want to go ahead and put an offer in on this place and then start looking for a new bike."

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