Page 8 of Show Me How to Heal
I followed him towards the camping gear where he bent over and retrieved a can from the bottom shelf before extending his hand. He paused, his eyes wandering toward my crutches and back to my face.
“I can take it to the register for you.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. You chose the color for me. I’ve been trying to decide which one to use for half an hour. Just so you know, if my sister hates it, I’m blaming you.”
“Since I don’t know your sister, that’s okay,” I said.
Look at that, I was talking to a stranger.Take that, Moritz. He’d worried that such a small town had a very close-knit community I’d never get accepted into.
“She’s a teacher at J. Creek elementary. If you’ve got kids, you’ll get to know her eventually.”
“No kids.”
“Girlfriend or wife?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Up until a year ago, I was too busy working all the time, following too crazy a schedule to even attempt being in a relationship, and afterward, I had to focus on me. The whole moving to another continent thing didn’t help.”
Corbyn nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing over his face before he started smiling again. “So, you basically don’t know anyone here?”
“That about sums it up.”
“Damn.” He raked his hand through his hair. “Well, if you want to meet new people, my friends and I will be meeting up at The Bar tonight. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Which bar?”
“The Bar.”Corbyn laughed. “There’s only one in town, and Chris isn’t the most creative guy in the world.”
We reached the register, interrupting our conversation for a couple of minutes until I’d paid for my bear spray and Corbyn had placed an order for the sage green — I still needed to google what sage was — wall color, and we left the shop.
Corbyn carried my can of emergency bear repellant for me to my car.
When I unlocked it, he whistled.
“Nice car,” he said admiringly, yet at the same time, he furrowed his brows. “But a little impractical, don’t you think?”
I bit my lip.
“I didn’t think so until two days ago.”
“Dude. If you live outside of town, you need a truck.”
“We’ll see.” To be fair, he was probably right. The BMW wasn’t made for unpaved, private driveways that were basically one pothole after the other.
Maybe a truck wasn’t the worst idea ever.
“Your choice. And hey, don’t forget about The Bar.The offer still stands. Raphael is a pretty cool guy, and I’m not so bad myself.”
I forced a smile onto my face. It felt weird. Unfamiliar. Like I hadn’t used the muscles needed to smile in a really long time. “I’ll be there.”
PSYCHOLOGICAL PROBLEMS?
DID A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN LEAD FORMER FOOTBALL PLAYER LUKAS RICHTER TO END HIS STAY AT THE REHABILITATION CLINIC PREMATURELY?
Chapter 3
Luke
