Page 10 of Saving Grace

“What will physio be looking for?” I ask.

“They will assess your muscle and motor capacity, and then give you exercises and figure out how long your support devices will be in use.”

“Like a brace or something?” Laws asks.

“Yes, exactly. He will have a brace for the shoulder injury, a moon boot for the lower leg and ankle. I will be suggesting to them that you also have a support for your left hip and lower back. That should take care of keeping you aligned while you heal and regain muscle strength.”

“Oh, that all.” I close my eyes. So, I’m about to be bundled up like an Eskimo. Fuckin’ awesome.

As if he reads my mind, Lawson shoves my shoulder—the good one—and says, “Still alive, little bro, focus on that.”

“Yeah, how could I not?”

The minuscule sliver of joy I found having Laws here drains away as I remember I’m still breathing, still here.

Butters is not.

“Goddamn it, Laws, shit!” I stagger to the side. The foot of my crutch is stuck in a gap in the boards of my front porch. Fire streaks through my hip, and I slam my molars together to stifle the groan that rises with it. Lawson’s hand squeezes around my bicep, holding me steady as I find my feet. I wasn’t this useless at the rehab center of the hospital, but a four-hour flight and two-hour drive has all but seized up my body.

Porch – 1

Mack – 0

Jesus, I hate this.

Reed and Ruby walk inside, carrying the load of bags from the hospital and the one from base that the Sarge sent stateside after everything went to shit. Ruby chatters away, taking to tidying up the already spotless house. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she’s stress cleaning.

I do, and she is.

Gotta love her for that.

Adds has Huddo fixing a railing on the internal stairs. The parentals are stocking the fridge as we make our slow entrance into the ranch house I’ve called home for over a year now. The huge farmhouse always felt too big for one person. Right now, it’s full and loud.

All I want is to be left to my misery.

I wish they would let me wallow in peace.

“You’re stocked up with hot dishes and fruit, snacks, and some frozen meals, including soup,” Ma says as Laws guides me onto my own sofa like a carer does for their elderly patient.

“Your live-in nurse will be here tomorrow. That’s the earliest we could arrange one. They are hard to find in these parts. So, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me tonight, Mackie-boy.” Lawson’s face is all kindness and understanding, but I hate it when he calls me that.

I suppress a grunt as I bend and meet the soft seat. Reed appears in front of me and squats like you would to talk to a little kid with a scraped knee. “Anything you need?”

“Nah, I’m good, gunny.”

His face wrecks before me briefly, and he schools it back. “Sure, holler if that changes, okay?”

Swallowing, he rises and stands. I breathe through the burn behind my eyes and tighten my grip on the crutches I still cling to. Ruby melts into his side, sliding her hand into his. Reads that man like a book, she does. He swallows, pushing a small smile up for her.

“Help me with the linen, will you, Reedsy?” she says.

When she drags him from my orbit, I release a heavy sigh. I could cope a lot better with all this if I could nix all the pity company. They mean well, and I love them for it. Except, I can’t breathe with the smothering gestures and sympathetic looks. Hell, the look on my little brother’s face almost brought me to tears.

There’s been enough fuckin’ crying.

Ma crying that I got hurt.

Then again when I was discharged.

---