Page 42 of Hearts on the Mend

My therapist nods, hiding behind her pillow for a moment.

“I can see your smile.”

She shrugs. “Fine. Cassie isn’t a friend. We don’t need to talk any more about her today.”

“Good.”

“But you are going to have to talk about something at some point. You only have a few months before you head back to Montana if you’re going to join for another fire season.”

“I know.”

I know, because I wake up with the constant reminder that this is all temporary.

This was all supposed to be temporary.

Jack stepped up and helped with my transfer from Seattle to Boston once I was stabilized so I could continue care with family nearby. I’m biding my time, waiting until I can return to the life I was ripped away from. The only one I’ve known for the past nineteen years.

When I slept with Cassie almost a year ago, it was only ever going to be a one-night stand. But, fuck, life is funny. Not sure I believe in fate or God, but our paths crossed again, and this time, it’s not as uncomplicated. I swear I hate every fucking minute of fixing the house, but I also… well, I kind of like it. But they’re building a home, and I’m just passing through. And I don’t deserve them. Not by a long shot.

It’s selfish to want her, but it’s all I can think about.

“The house is a good distraction,” my therapist says.

“I thought you said I need to sit with my feelings.”

“It’s keeping your hands busy, your body moving. You’re working hard to fix something, and you’re being rewarded for that work. PT is going well, I assume?”

“Yeah,” I say, as if it’s not the most painful thing ever. “I hate PT, but I’ll do whatever it takes to get back.”

“Have you considered work, even on a part-time basis, at the local fire department if you don’t want to work on the house?”

My throat tightens, my pulse drums. “Work at the house is… fine. I don’t mind it.”

“It seems overwhelming. A much bigger commitment than you’re ready for.”

“Weren’t you the one who told me everything falls apart before it gets better? That I need to fight for it?”

“I guess it depends on what you’re talking about,” she says. “Specifically.”

I blow out a frustrated exhale, my patience long gone. I wish I could wriggle that stupid penguin pillow out of her hands and fling it out the window. It just sits there in her lap with big eyes, mocking me. Dumb fucking penguin.

I don’t need any of this. I don’t. I can finish PT and therapy, can pass whatever test I need to so I can join the rest of my team in time for fire season in the spring. I can fix the house and ignore the fact that I’m not walking around with a giant hole in my chest because my roommate, the woman who hired me, kissed me yesterday, and it’s not enough.

I want more.

After my session ends, I drive home, park the truck behind the Jeep, and I’m about to head inside when I hear a squeak.

At first, I think maybe I stepped on a toy that Ruby dropped mistakenly in the driveway, but there’s nothing.

Cassie opens the door, standing there with her arms crossed, swimming in that giant smiley face sweatshirt. “Everything okay?”

“Nothing, I⁠—”

There it is. That sound again. I adjust my hat, shrug my shoulders, trying to keep my cool, but maybe this is it. Maybe I’m finally cracking under the pressure. “Do you hear that?”

“Yeah.” She nods, stepping fully out onto the porch. “What is it? Man, it’s cold.” She shivers.

“Get inside. I’ll figure it out.”