Page 9 of A SEAL's Heart
“Can you try for me?”
He shakes his head.
Great. He’s been uncooperative, and all the good feelings of my teenage crush are fast dissolving. Ed’s deliberately not trying.
Maybe it’s more than his speech that the incident has affected. These guys come back and we treat the wounds we can see, but no one knows what’s going on inside.
I take a deep breath and draw on every ounce of compassion I can muster.
“I want to help you, Ed. I believe you can speak again. But that won’t happen unless you help yourself.”
He gazes at me intently, and I wish I could read his expression. But right now, all he’s giving me is Navy SEAL badass who doesn’t want to be here.
I glare back at him. He’s determined, but so am I. Ed is my first actual patient, and I’m not giving up on him because he’s a stubborn ass. I may not be able to heal whatever wounds he’s hiding on the inside, but I will help him speak again.
He was Jake’s best friend. It’s the least I can do.
If I end the session now, Maria will wonder why we’ve finished early. I need to keep him here for the full forty-five minutes. If it gets back to the VA that he’s not participating, they might cut his funding.
I spend the rest of the session going through simple exercises he can do at home. I have no idea if he’ll do them or not.
“Do you have the VA app?” He shakes his head.
“You should get it. It’s easy to keep up with your appointments, and I can load the exercises onto the app for you.”
He keeps staring at me the way he has for the entire session, intense and unwavering and giving away nothing.
I fire up the printer and print off a page of exercises for him. I’m not giving him any excuses for not practicing.
My eyes dart to the clock on the wall. It’s five minutes until the session is supposed to finish, but I can’t stand this any longer. I can’t stand him watching me but not participating.
“I’ll see you next week.”
My smile isn’t as bright as when he first arrived, but I plaster it on. Ed grunts as he leaves, which is the most sound he’s made since he came in.
I don’t walk him to the reception desk. That grumpy ass can see himself out.
I close the door behind me and lean on it, taking in a deep breath. My gaze goes to the table, and the printed exercises he left there. The man doesn’t even want to get better.
I squeeze my eyes shut and lean my head against the door. That was the worst first patient ever.
5
ED
The entire drive back to my cabin, all I can think about is Avery and her frustration at me for not participating in her exercises. She’s pissed at me. And I don’t blame her. I behaved like a stubborn ass. But fuck if I’m going to contort my face and drool all over myself in front of her. No fucking way.
I don’t want her to see me like that. I’ll do the exercises at home, but I will not drool in front of Avery Monroe.
My pickup bumps over the gravel road as I pull up in front of the cabin I’m staying at until the doctors finish with me.
I dodge the missing plank of wood on the decking to get to the door. My key sticks, and it takes a few turns to release the rusty lock. It creaks as the door opens, and a small animal scurries away into a hole in the floorboards.
I pull my sleeping bag up off the floor and shake it out, checking for droppings. If I was sticking around, I’d do some minor repairs to make this place more livable. But there’s no point when I’m only here until the doctor discharges me. Or until I learn to speak again. But when I’m out in the middle of the woods, I don’t have many good reasons to want to talk.
Especially with Avery Monroe doing the speech therapy. Damn that woman with her eager smile and hopeful eyes. She can’t be long in the job, and I’m the shittiest patient ever.
She’s got the same color eyes as Jake, green as emeralds and as observant as a hawk. Jake missed nothing, which is why I still can’t accept that he went the way he did.
