“No, but fuck, man, I tell ya, I’ve never received so many hugs from so many women in such a short time before. Some of them were even in fucking tears over what happened to Abbey, and they all kept asking how Taylor was doing and wanted to know if I needed any help.”
“What’d you tell ‘em?”
“Just that I had it covered.”
“Any lookers?” Cael asked, but in all honesty, he really didn’t want to know.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t looking.” A moment of silence followed, then Zach asked, “How’s your schedule look today?”
“Not bad. My first client’s in twenty.”
“You want to grab lunch later.”
Zach’s question caught Cael by surprise. “Uh, yeah. I can squeeze about forty-five minutes. What are you thinking?”
“How ‘bout I grab some sandwiches from The Hat and swing by?”
“Um, yeah. Twelve-thirty good?”
“Yep.”
“Cool. See you then.”
“See ya.”
Cael pressed the button on his earpiece to end the call, then pulled it out of his ear and switched it off. After putting it in the small outer pocket of his duffel along with his wallet and keys, he shoved the bag into his designated locker and slammed it shut, then spun the dial. As he headed out to the reception desk to wait for his first client, Cael pulled his phone from his pocket and set it to vibrate.
“Hi, Cael.”
Cael spun toward the familiar, kind voice of their scheduler. “Hey, Sammie.”
“How was your weekend?” she asked, her big, toothy grin as bright as ever.
“Sorta sucked,” he deadpanned.
Sammie’s smile dropped. “Why? What happened?”
“You remember my friend Zach, right?”
“Yeah,” she said, concern marring her face.
“His sister was in a rollover accident Saturday morning. She’s in a coma, and doctors don’t know when, or evenif, she’ll come out of it.”
“Oh my God, that’s terrible.”
“Yeah,” he sighed, pausing for a breath. “Zach’s taking care of her daughter for now, so after spending most of Saturday at the hospital, I spent the rest of the weekend just trying to help him out.”
“How’s he taking it?”
“Eh. As best he can, I guess.” Cael didn’t really want to talk about it. “Speaking of Zach, he’s gonna come by on my lunch break, so will you do me a favor and keep my schedule clear from twelve-forty-five to one-thirty?”
“Sure thing.” Sammie pushed open the half door leading to the area behind the counter and plopped down at her computer. “Let me just block it now for you.”
“Thanks.”
Cael’s first patient, Will Pratt, showed on time for his nine-thirty appointment. Will was a young guy. Practically a kid. Barely two years into his first term of service, a roadside bomb blew off half his leg while on tour in Afghanistan.
Cael remembered when he’d first met Will. About six months ago, after completing the first phase of his recovery, Will had come to start physical therapy. His first few weeks had been rough. Wrung out emotionally and still trying to deal with the loss of two guys in his unit, Will had spent most of the first couple weeks just talking with Cael. The first couple visits, Cael had taken the time to get to know Will and explain the therapy process. Soon after, Will had told him about some of his military buddies and eventually, described in every horrific detail the day he thought he’d died only to wake up several days later with half his leg missing. Something about sharing that information had seemed to be a release for him. Three weekly sessions six months later, and Cael still remembered the exact words Will said to him after a long pause at the end of that story.
