Page 4 of Lines We Cross
“What in God’s green earth is that man doing on my schedule?” I said out loud to my empty office. The walls didn’t answer, so I was left to pure speculation. The appointment was for a full hour, which indicated a full evaluation.
Most PTs would be psyched to work with a professional athlete, and I did get amped up when that happened. Usually. Just not when said athlete was a jerk face who grew up in Nickel Bay and then ran away and never looked back.
My gaze caught on the one and only picture on my desk, a quick selfie I’d taken a few years back. In it, my beaming face was smashed up against an equally beaming face. My brother, Emerson.
We had the same light brown hair with a decidedly red tint to it that really shined in the sunlight. Matching brown eyes hinted strongly that we were brother and sister, but the similarities ended there. I had dimples, he had beard scruff. I had perfectly straight teeth, while his were slightly crooked due to refusing all orthodontic care, much to Mom’s irritation. He had his fingers up in the peace sign behind my head, giving me rabbit ears like the lovable goof he was. I smiled dutifully at the camera, always following the rules.
Emerson and Max had been best friends.
Probably because they were both class clowns. I hadn’t told a soul about the massive crush I’d had on Max growing up, but I could guess it was partly due to the fact he reminded me so much of my beloved big brother.
It had been an exquisite form of torture that Max had been at our house so much growing up. I tagged along with my brother and his friends when I was little, worshiping them and delighting when they included me. Around middle school that all changed. They ran the other way when they saw me, took every opportunity to tease me, and made my life a living hell at home and at school. Max had been the worst of them all. His sense of humor turned dark and just plain mean. All the while, like a lovesick fool, I’d sneak glances at Max and wish he’d see me as more than Emerson’s little sister.
I shook my head to clear the memories and stood back up, defiance giving my knees a backbone again. Max Duke didn’t deserve my time or worry. He was a client on my schedule just like everyone else. I’d evaluate his injury, work up a plan, and then hand him off to my assistant like the professional I was. I’d give him all the concern he’d shown my family the last ten years. In other words: zero.
Grabbing my things, I gave one last glance at the picture, silently promising my brother I’d make Mom and Dad proud enough for the both of us. The same tidal wave of grief hit my chest and threatened to pull me under. The wave was familiar having battered me for over a year now. They said time heals all wounds, but this didn’t feel like healing. More like groundhog’s day, grief edition.
I left the room, turning off the lights and flipping the switch in my head. In order to survive I’d learned to turn my emotions on and off. When I flicked that switch to on, they poured out of me so swiftly and completely, I feared them. So I learned to flip everything to off most of the time. I could operate from this place, carry on conversation, and even build a life without ever turning those emotions back on. It was cleaner, less messy, more predictable, and Lord knew it hurt less.
I was sure some psychologist would suggest it wasn’t healthy, but walk a day in my shoes and they’d see why I did it.
“Don’t get sloppy, work harder,” I mumbled to myself, locking the door to the clinic and finding my little sedan in the dark parking lot.
As soon as I closed the door and started the car, my phone started ringing in my bag. I fished it out and put my earbuds in to answer while I drove.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Did you hear the news?” she asked without preamble.
I rolled my eyes and cranked the heater. Evenings still got cold in Nickel Bay during the springtime. The sun went down and all you were left with was the cool wind off the ocean.
“I had a great day at work, thank you for asking,” I teased.
“Oh, you quit it. I know you had a good day because you always have a good day. If a day tries to turn bad on you, you’d wrestle it to the ground and beat the living daylights out of it until it turned good. Just the way you are, Skylar Rae.”
I chuckled, liking that she knew that about me. I wasn’t fragile, that was for sure.
“So, what’s the big juicy news?”
She squealed and my eyes glazed over.Here we go again.
“Max is back in town!” Mom shouted so loud I cringed from the pain in my ears.
“Jesus, Mom. Calm down and lower your voice. I think the whole state heard you.”
“Who peed in your lemonade, dear? Max is a wonderful boy. If I don’t see him in town tomorrow, I’ll bake those brownies he always loved and go see him at Galina’s house.”
I shook my head. “Yeah, you do that.”
There was no way I’d tell her he’d be coming into my clinic tomorrow. She’d be there bright and early with the welcome gang, parading him around like he was some kind of small-town hero.
Mom signed heavily. “Why are you like that about him, Skylar Rae? You know he was Emerson’s best friend.”
I nearly snorted, turning onto my street. “Best friend? What kind of best friend doesn’t even come to your funeral?”
“Honey. He’s a professional athlete. He can’t just drop everything and come home anytime he wants. You know he cares. He sent all that money to help us bury your brother.”
I sucked in air through my nose and prayed for peace. “Sending money and giving of your time and presence are two very different things in my book.”
