Page 16 of All Along

A friend.

Chapter 7

“Whoever said pain is just weakness leaving the body is an asshole who doesn’t know shit.” ~ Caleb

Caleb

Igroan as the muscles in my left leg protest my movement with stabs of pain but I don’t stop. I don’t quit. I can’t. I need to heal from this injury to prove I’m worthy. I lower myself in a squat.

“Hold for five seconds,” Hazel orders.

I glare at her as she counts.

“Five, four, three, two, one. And slowly stand.”

My body protests as I raise myself into a standing position.

“And again.”

“Are you kidding me?”

It feels as if we’ve been doing therapy for hours. My physical therapist is a sadist.

Hazel bats her eyelashes. “Don’t tell me the big bad military hero is tired and needs a rest.”

“Not a military hero,” I grit out as I lower myself into yet another squat.

“Dude, a bullet shattered your femur during active duty while you were in some godforsaken country you can’t talk about. Pretty sure that’s the definition of hero.”

She doesn’t know the whole truth. She doesn’t know why I took the bullet. Why I’m not a hero. How I messed up. How I’m a failure. How I battle the guilt every day.

“Not a hero,” I grumble.

“Whatever. You can slowly stand now.”

My thigh spasms as I push to stand. I grit my teeth and ignore it. It’s a squat. I’ve done a million of these. I can do this. I will do this.

The spasms worsen to convulsions and I lose control of my leg.

“Fuck,” I mutter as Hazel wraps an arm around me before I fall.

“I got you, big guy.” She helps me to the treatment table and I gladly sit down. “I think you’ve had enough strength training for the day.”

I scowl at her. “You said I could try jogging on the treadmill today.”

She wags a finger at me. “No. I said it was a slight possibility. Which I only said because you were super pushy.”

“I wasn’t pushy.”

She giggles. “You haven’t changed a bit since high school.”

I lift an eyebrow. Granted I was already six foot tall in high school but my frame was lean back then. Now, it’s all muscle.

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. You’ve got all these muscles now.” She motions to my body as if working my ass off to keep myselfin optimum shape is no big deal. “But up here.” She taps her temple. “You’re the same.”

I growl. I am not the same. I was an idiot in high school who thought it was fun to get chased by the cops. It wasn’t fun when the principal threatened to fail me if I didn’t straighten up.

I’m not an idiot anymore. I have skills. Skills I’ve honed over twelve years of active duty. Skills that didn’t help me when I needed them the most.

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