Page 99 of Hearts on the Mend

“But?”

“There you go, guessing before it happens. You were tired before the accident last season.”

I can’t look Lethbridge in the eye. “Been at this twenty years, and I know I could do another twenty. Be a lifer like you.”

But Lethbridge goes home alone, to an empty bed each night. His life is this base; this job is his wife and family.

“And you’re thinking…”

I nod, not giving voice to the doubt eating me up since I’ve returned.

“I’m proud of you either way. Now get cleaned up; you fucking smell. See you for beers in a bit.”

Later, when I’m stuffed into the tiny, crowded bar crawling with locals and the tourists, it’s Lethbridge who stands and raises his shot glass. “That was a fucking gnarly fire, and I really thought we were fucked with Devin tangled in that tree from the jump.”

I wink at Devin, raising my glass.

“I cut myself out,” he says defensively.

“Right, right,” Lethbridge says, waving his hands to hush us all down. “Anyway, I think we need to thank one of the best squad leaders this unit’s ever had for getting us all out of there alive. To Murphy!”

They all raise their glasses in a toast, and I suck down the whiskey until the burn sinks into my stomach. I’ve had a little too much tonight, exhausted as I am.

And then my phone buzzes with a text.

Cassie: I’m glad you’re safe. Missed your voice.

My brain is already whirling into overdrive as soon as I read it, then again to make sure I’m not imagining it. I’ve been awake for almost seventy hours at this point.

My fingers hover over my phone, unsure of what to type.

Nolan: Miss you so fucking bad, Cass.

Nolan: Sorry, shouldn’t say that. Not fair.

It’s not until I finally crawl into my empty bed after my third shower of the night that I reach for my phone and find one last text.

Cassie: This was never going to be easy. Don’t be sorry. I’m not.

Chapter 32

Nolan

Sorry isn’t the right word. Sorry is much too small for what I feel. Another week passes, and I’m stuck in therapy, which isn’t helping me shake that feeling.

Crude as it is, the confession rips out of me. “It’s not like I can fuck myself whole again.”

My therapist in Montana is older. Her office isn’t a jungle, and there’s no penguin pillows or fountains. Just a beige room that makes me feel on edge, a weird, lingering smell from her lunch that she heated up in the microwave in the corner, and a grouping of wooden mallards along the top of her bookcase.

“We’re all a collection of pieces, Nolan. We break a thousand different ways before we die. That’s what it means to live. Rough, but resilient. We need hope and cling to the little joy we can find in the battle of it all. And in the meantime, you have a lot of people who love you, who will stand by you until you feel better.”

“What if I don’t?”

Setting down her pen, she leans forward on her desk. “Haven’t you? That’s what we live for. The hope. The possibility. You’ll be surprised at how the smallest things can heal your heart.”

I set down Ruby’s pebble on the arm of my chair. I can’t seem to put it away since I’ve driven out here.

They were a surprise. Hell, Cassie did turn my life upside down a thousand different ways. But I’d always find center again with her.