He swallowed hard.Not fear.Just nerves.Or maybe the sting of leaving behind the wreckage of his old life.
As he stood, pain flared in his side, but he welcomed it.It grounded him.Reminded him that he was alive.
Eli Camino—licensed trauma therapist, aquatic rehab specialist, and once-upon-a-time competitive swimmer—was starting over.Heading into the wild spine of the country to help a soldier come to grips with the loss of his leg.The job description had been vague.“Amputee.Late thirties.Severe PTSD and probable survivor’s guilt.Ex-military.Limited verbal communication since injury.Needs someone patient, discreet, and resilient.”
Ezra hadn’t said more, and Eli hadn’t asked.
All he knew was that something in Ezra’s voice—a hint of worry, of hope, of deep respect—had told him this wouldn’t be an ordinary case.This wouldn’t be a clean line between therapist and patient.It would be messy, raw, real.
Eli liked real.Real was the only thing that had ever saved him.
As he made his way down the jet bridge, the shadows of the terminal fell away.Ahead of him, the promise of open skies and silence.A place with no skyscrapers.No locked doors.No fists in the night.
Just one man.A broken soldier.Someone who, if Eli did his job right, might come to believe he was still whole.
Eli didn’t know who the man was yet.
But in his heart, he already hoped—quietly, fiercely—that maybe Wyoming wouldn’t just be the veteran’s salvation.
Maybe it would be his, too.
The End
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