Page 5 of Show Me How to Heal
“Yeah. Sorry for being so grouchy. I’m just so damn tired.” Which was a part of the truth, but not the whole truth.
“No problem. If you need anything or have questions, feel free to call me or send me a message.” Mason grinned again. “You can even call me if it hasn’t got anything to do with your cabin. I’m a local and know the area pretty well, so if you need contractors or don’t know where to find something, just give me a shout.”
I nodded. “Thanks.” Was he just being nice or… did he know who I was? Maybe he’d googled me when I’d inquired about buying this cabin and now he wanted to befriend the rich guy. He wouldn’t be the first. Ever since my career had taken off, everyone I’d met had always wanted something from me.
Money, fame, connections.
“Anyway, I’ll be on my way.” Mason waved at me and walked over to the front door. I knew I was supposed to follow him and see him out — it was the polite thing to do — but my knee was throbbing, and my head was a jumbled mess.
What if he’d googled who I was and had told everyone? What if the whole town had seen the videos of my career ending injury? Of my break-down in a bar a couple of weeks later. Of me throwing my crutch at a journalist just to fall a second later because I’d fucking needed the stupid thing for support.
He probably hadn’t, right? I mean, why should he? He’d had no reason to. The bank had immediately cleared my request, and my lawyer had dealt with all the complicated shit I hadn’t had a clue about — and still didn’t. I just knew this fucking huge cabin was mine.
“Bye,” Mason said, waving one last time before stepping outside and firmly shutting the door behind him, leaving me alone in my new home. A couple of seconds later, I heard the door of a car slamming closed and then the engine starting before he drove off.
I was finally alone in my brand-new home.
Taking a deep breath, I got off my feet, dropping onto the couch that fortunately came with the place.
Yayfor furnished homes.
The quiet was calming my nerves, and my heartbeat slowed back to a normal pace. Mason probably hadn’t googled me, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have told anyone about me. Client confidentiality was a thing, after all. No. Everything was perfect. I had a beautiful new car, a beautiful new hometown, a beautiful new house…
The only problem was that I was still broken.
WHERE IS HE?
EXPERTS SAY FOOTBALL STAR LUKAS RICHTER LEFT THE REHABILITATION CENTER TOO SOON. IS HE RISKING HIS ABILITY TO WALK?
Chapter 2
Luke
When I’d imagined the way my life would go, I’d dreamed of many things. A career as a professional football player —soccerplayer; I really needed to start calling it soccer if I didn’t want to confuse everyone around me — or, if that hadn’t worked out, studying something, probably sports and English to become a teacher in those subjects. Maybe something different.
I’d imagined living in the same midsize town my parents came from, or maybe even in a bigger city because while playing football or studying, I’d fallen in love with the city and the people. I imagined the time after retiring from my active football —soccer— career. Finally being able to find a boyfriend. Go out on dates. Maybe start a career as a commentator or as a TV expert, or maybe I’d just start living a private life, enjoying my time and coaching kids. While becoming a teacher had always only ever been my plan B, I’d at least have been able to start dating sooner in life.
There’d been endless scenarios, endless dreams, yet I’d never imagined one of them to be driving into a small town in the middle of Colorado in order to purchase bear spray.
Yes,bear spray.
That was a thing here because there were actual black bears living in Colorado — though according to the internet, they didn’t actually have to be black. They could be blond or cinnamon colored.
Oh, and there weren’t that many black bears living here, only ten to twelve thousand — within Colorado, not the entire US.
How many cans of bear spray would I be able to buy without looking like a fool?
At least I’d already read those really ‘funny’ stories posted online about tourists confusing bear spray with bug spray and effectively pepper spraying themselves, so I wouldn’t be the next stupid guy accidently doing so.
The only question was: Where did I find bear spray?
The internet said Walmart. Or a camping store, but I highly doubted Juniper Creek had any of those.
I parked my car in one of the parking spots on Main Street, grabbed my crutches, and opened the car door, cursing internally for being stupid enough to buy a small, cute BMW without considering my new physical limitations. Getting out of a sports car with a busted knee was fucking exhausting.
I vaguely remembered Moritz, my twin brother, carefully mentioning something like that a month ago when I’d first started the process of buying a new car.
I hadn’t listened.
