Page 14 of Warrior's Walk

My cell phone rings and I grab it from my tray table and answer, “Hello?”

“Are you there, baby?” my mama asks. She always sounds worried and concerned. It’s hard for her, knowing I’m so far away and hurting and there’s nothing she can do for me.

“Yeah, Mama, I’m here.” Where else would I be?

I stand outsidehis door for the umpteenth time, and as soon as Liza walks out, I grab her clipboard from her med cart.

“Hey,” she barks, trying to take it back. “That’s private information.”

“I work here. Don’t give me that HIPAA bullshit.”

“You know, you could just go in and ask him how he’s doing. You don’t have to stalk him.”

That word makes my body heat with awareness. “I’m not stalking him,” I insist.

Her raised eyebrow says she thinks I’m full of shit. Iamfull of shit. I’m totally stalking him. I’ve already seen his x-rays and Tony’s patient notes on his progress. Basically, he hasn’t done jack shit in the way of therapy yet. But what I want to know isn’t in his chart. I want to know how he’s doing—mentally, emotionally. How he’s holding up.

The last leg of my deployment felt like the longest I’ve ever served. There wasn’t a single night I fell asleep without him on my mind, wondering how he was adjusting, how his leg had healed. I even wondered whether he ever thought of me.

No, I squashed those thoughts immediately. I had no business thinking thoughts like that. Rhett was my patient,however briefly, and I did my best to save his life. That’s it. That’s all there was to it. The fact he stayed with me, that I can’t shake him from my mind? That’s all on me, not him.

Liza glares at me with her hand on her hip. “Did you find what you’re looking for?”

“No.”

“That’s because it’s not in the file.”

With a huff, I drop the chart on her cart and meet her accusing eyes. “How’s he holding up?”

“He’s not,” she says bluntly. “He’s miserable and depressed and he passes his time making animals out of brochures.” Liza plucks a crane from her med cart and drops it in my hand.

Rhett made this? This is what he’s been reduced to? A brave warrior who now folds paper to keep his mind from imploding? My heart bleeds for him. I know how much he’s lost. Not just his career or his mobility, but his best friend. His entire life as he knew it is over. The problem is that he has nothing to replace it with. Not yet, at least.

“Go in there, talk to him,” she urges for the hundredth time.

“He’s not my patient.”

“But is he your friend?” she asks.

No, he’s not even my friend. Not really. He’s just… someone I can’t stop thinking about. Someone I connected with instantly. Someone I have no business asking after.

Instead, I say, “If you order from that Greek place for lunch, let me know. I’m in.” And then I leave her standing there, staring after me as I walk away. Because that’s all she’s going to get from me, my lunch order. I know she’s burning with curiosity about how I know Rhett and why I care so much. I certainly don’t show that level of interest in any of my other patients beyond the progress they’re making in my gym. So why Rhett?

Liza hasn’t asked me outright yet, but she will eventually, and when she does? I have no idea what I’ll say.

“That’s it, push a little harder. Just a little more. You’re almost there.”

Rhett’s grunts echo loudly in the silent room. They filter through the partially open door out into the hall where I’m standing, stalking himagain.

“You can do it. Don’t give up,” Tony encourages.

His positivity and soft touch make my teeth grind together, and I can only imagine how it must make Rhett feel. I respect my colleague, but right now, I feel like his methods are shit. Rhett is a soldier. He’s not used to being treated with kid gloves. Tony is doing him a disservice with his cheerleader act. If he were my patient, I’d…He’s not your patient. You don’t get to have an opinion about his recovery.

“Tomorrow, you start the hard work in the gym. We’ll stand you up and see how much weight you can bear on your leg. Are you excited?” Tony asks.

“Fuckin’ thrilled,” Rhett deadpans, and I cover my snicker with my hand.

I love his thinly veiled sarcasm. If I can’t get a patient to be excited about their recovery, I’ll take anger as a close second favorite emotion. Anger means they still feel something, and I can turn it and twist it to motivate them, but I worry Rhett is becoming passive and disinterested, which scares me because that means he’s given up. Disinterested means that you have to motivate them or make them angry to get them to start cooperating and caring again, and I just don’t think Tony has the capability to do that with Rhett.

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