Page 3 of Hell on Wheels

I couldn’t afford to think that way.

Hope never entered my realm of possibility.

My vision blurred slightly, and then tried to refocus. Little flashes of light blasted off in my peripheral, and I ignored them, not wanting to reveal that I was having any problems. I’d fought hard to be able to keep my driver’s license. No way was I losing my Harley now.

That bike was the only thing that kept me going besides Kane. I couldn’t live without either one of them.

“Detached retina injuries take time to heal, Flint. You’ve been through a lot in the last few months. It’s still raw, especially all the loss you suffered. Emotionally and physically. I’d like you to tell me about the journal you’re keeping by your bedside. Have you been writing in it?”

Shit. I didn’t use the damn thing, and she knew it.

“Not so much.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t had as many nightmares lately.” The lie was easy to tell, and I didn’t care if she knew it.

“I see.” Joan folded her hands primly in her lap. “You know you’re not fooling anyone, right? I’m not here to judge you, Flint. You’ve got to be ready and willing to make changes for the nightmares and pain to get better.”

“I know,” I admitted. Why was this so fucking hard?

She glanced at the clock on the wall. “I think that ends our session for this week.”

Nodding, I stood, careful to keep my balance and stop squinting.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?”

“I ride, not drive. My Harley has never failed me.” Neither had my quick reflexes or gut instincts. You were born with them, or you weren’t. I guess I could say I was lucky enough to have them both.

She tilted her head to the side, studying me as if I was an anomaly. “Alright then. See you next week, Flint.”

“Sure,” I drawled, heading for the door as fast as I could. Once I was out of her office, I began to relax. My shoulders eased back a little, and I took a deep breath.

Those appointments always made me feel anxious and tense. I never knew what she would ask or what memory would pop up. In the early weeks, I brought Kane with me to almost every session. He was the only thing that provided comfort and prevented the episodes I used to have.

Didn’t like to think about that now. Memories weren’t always my friend.

The Nevada skyline was bright and clear as I exited the Medical Center. Cerulean blue stretched as far as I could imagine without hardly a cloud in the Las Vegas sky. I missed the days when I could see the details, but I wasn’t about to feel sorry for myself. Years as a Marine brought discipline and the hard acceptance that life often didn’t work out the way you expected.

I wasn’t lying when I told the shrink it was a good sight day. Particles and floaters were almost nonexistent, and the blur wasn’t bad. Light still bothered my eyes, so I always wore sunglasses, even indoors. The only exception was night. As long as I was home, I skipped the sunglasses on occasion when my eyes weren’t hurting.

Rumbling down the busy road, I couldn’t help thinking of the visit to the VA. I saw several acquaintances but didn’t stop to chat. On instinct, I tended to stay guarded now. Wasn’t much I could say that wouldn’t end in awkward pauses. I got asked too often how I was doing or adjusting to life back in the states. Not a subject I liked to dwell on.

It wasn’t long before I rode into my neighborhood and a few streets from my house. My bike rolled to a stop at the nearest intersection as I balanced her out, sitting comfortably in the saddle as I waited for the light to change. I lifted my head, scanning the area before turning right.

As I rounded the corner, I caught sight of a man and a young woman arguing. She had her hands in the air, animatedly waving them around in frustration. I was all set to keep riding when he lifted a hand and cracked her hard across the face. The girl, who couldn’t have been older than her late teen years, crumpled to the sidewalk as I stopped, dropping the kickstand and hopping off my bike.

There were two things I didn’t condone. Bullies were one. Men who hurt women were another.

This motherfucker was about to learn a hard lesson.

And I always enjoyed a good beatdown.

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