Page 4 of Perilous Healing

“Wanted to get a workout in before the meeting this morning.”

He arches a brow. “Wanna try that again?”

I should have known better. We served together overseas, with me as a medic who saved his life on more than one occasion. I know he struggles with the weight of his past, too, though I imagine being married to his high school sweetheart has lessened a bit of it.

The two of them are perfect for each other, and if I ever hoped for that kind of connection, I might be jealous. “I couldn’t sleep. But that’s nothing new.” Not one for vulnerability, I turn back toward the bag and slam my fist into it.

Michael comes around and holds the bag for me as I punch it, then spin and lands a kick. “If you want to talk about it we can.”

“Nope. Not interested. Thanks though.” With one final combination, I take off the gloves and grab my shaker bottle with the BCAA mixture I still haven’t finished drinking. Amino acids first thing in the morning is a necessity when I’m hitting the gym, but I’m more than ready for coffee.

“Bianca, you can’t keep it all bottled up.”

“It’s worked for me for the past thirty-five years,” I call back as I head toward the door.

He chuckles, clearly understanding that the conversation is over. “See you in a bit.”

“See you then!” I step out onto the street. The sky is darker than it should be, and I imagine it’s due to the hurricane that’s heading our way. The worst one Maine has seen in two decades, according to the newscasters.

Woohoo.

All around me, preparations are being made. Windows boarded up, furniture pulled from patios and hidden away inside. But I’m not worried. I’ve faced things far more terrifying than a hurricane and survived. And even if this is the thing that takes me out, well then, I guess I won’t have to worry about much of anything anymore.

Slinging my backpack over my shoulders, I grip my cup and take off on the run that will bring me home. Since Hope Springs, Maine, is a small town, I run to the gym every morning as a warm-up, then use the three miles back to unwind after my workout.

I’ve made it a habit to push my body to its limits each and every day, never again wanting to be found unable to protect myself. Besides, it helps keep my anxiety at bay.

As it does every single year on this specific day, the darkness ebbs closer in my mind, but I shove it back. I won’t let the past consume me. Never again. Especially not today.

My muscles are liquid by the time I reach the pier that sits beside Hope Springs’ church. While I don’t ever imagine I’ll find myself going in for a Sunday service, I do stop at the pier and stare out over the sunrise.

Pale blue waters crash against the light sand as the world is painted in rays of purple, orange, and gold.

It’s beautiful.

Even if I can’t make myself believe in anything, I can believe that.

“Morning, Bianca.” Pastor Redding comes to stand beside me. He’s dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, his gray hair sweaty at the temples.

“Morning. Coming back from a run?”

“What gave it away?” he asks with a laugh.

I smile. Even if I don’t occupy a pew every Sunday, I can appreciate the kindness of the man beside me. He’s a good man. Good as they come. And he and his wife are staples in this tiny town that I now call home.

“Are you doing okay today?” he asks.

“Why do you ask?”

His expression reflects curiosity rather than judgment. But there’s an understanding in his gaze that makes me feel…well, like he cares. Which is a new one for me. His wife has the exact same effect on me, and given that she owns the bakery in town, avoiding her is impossible.

I like cupcakes too much.

“God guided me to this pier this morning,” he says. “I felt like I needed to run back by here rather than my usual route, and I can’t help but believe that it’s because you were going to be here.”

“Listen, I appreciate you asking, but you know I’m not?—”

“I know,” he replies. “But even if you’re unsure, He still knows and loves you.”

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