Arthur didn’t need to be involved in her problems.
Chapter 7
The next day, Arthur was up before Sam. He stretched, feeling good aside from a slight ache in his stump in response to the trotting yesterday. No pins and needles. That was a first. Maybe the light walking and short horse ride had helped. Or perhaps it was the fact he hadn’t dreamed, hadn’t woken sweating from flashbacks of the explosion and spent hours staring at the ceiling, unable to go back to sleep. For the first time since he’d originally been discharged, he felt revitalised, eager for the day. He couldn’t wait to read the journals again and sort through Amy’s detailed notes.
The new challenge added to the relief from his pain made him giddy as he rubbed the scars and reached for his crutches. He needed a break from the socks and liners.
He shouldn’t have ignored all his therapist’s directions to exercise.
Arthur had been stupid. If he’d continued wearing his prosthesis after he’d been discharged the first time, he might have less pain and irritation, but he hadn’t seen the point. He hadn’t left the house and crutches were easier. Now, after a few minutes without pain, he could see more clearly.
In the kitchen, he examined his options. Holding mugs and using his crutches at the same time would be a little tricky. He settled on leaning the crutches against the bench and hopping around to get the items he needed. He’d just finished the coffees when Sam walked in. “Morning.” He gestured to a mug. Better not to risk carrying it to him.
Sam’s eyes widened. “Thanks, mate. Didn’t you sleep well?”
Arthur shook his head. “I’m fine. I woke early.”
Sam studied him. Looking for a lie.
He deserved it. He’d have to earn Sam’s trust back. “Last night, I read the information Amy sent about the treasure. It’s got me thinking. I want to read the journal again today.”
“I’ve got a copy you can take on the boat. Just make sure you don’t leave it lying around for anyone to read.”
He worked better when he could write things down and see everything at once. He wouldn’t be able to spread out in the cabin, not without risking someone seeing what he was working on. “I thought I’d stay here.”
Sam shook his head. “You know the drill.”
“The overdose was an accident.”
His friend stared at him. “So you say, but the man I know doesn’t accidentally take more than he needs.”
Frustration filled him. “You don’t understand the pain I was in. I wanted it to go away.”
“How much pain are you in now?”
“Some.” An ache had returned, but it wasn’t the usual pins and needles.
“Then you’re coming with me.”
Arthur recognised the determination on Sam’s face. Still, he tried. “Mate, I’ve been out every day for over a week. I need a break.”
“Nope. Not until I see real progress.”
Forced to do someone’s will again. Though if he was honest, he’d made his choice both times. And he was grateful to Sam for not giving up on him. He rubbed the back of his head, unused to the length of his hair. “Listen, I ah, wanted to apologise.”
Sam’s eyebrows raised. “For?”
“For being such a dickhead to you. For shutting you out and ignoring you when you visited.”
“Why did you?”
He huffed. “Because I resented you. You had everything I wanted, and you chose to leave the army. And I felt your pity every time you came in.”
“It wasn’t pity, Sherlock. It was concern. You weren’t coping.”
Arthur nodded. “I wasn’t, but I treated you like shit, and I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath. “Thank you for what you’ve done for me.”
Sam slapped him on his shoulder, drawing him in for a brief hug. “That’s what friends do, Sherlock.” He smiled. “But you’re still coming out on the boat today.”
