“I know how it is,” Liam admits.
I suck in a sharp breath, my eyelid twitching in agitation. How is he going to know how it is? I shuffle from foot to foot, barely managing not to pace.
“Keenan,” Liam sighs resignedly, “you’re not the only one that struggled with recovery. I know how hard it can be. I’ve been shot in functionally compromising places too.”
“I don’t want your sympathy or you telling me youknow. . . I want to feel normal again.” Fuck, saying this doesn’t make me feel better. It reminds me I have no control over anything. Fuck, when I lift Delilah, I push through the pain. I’m always doing everything I can to seem stronger in front of her, but the reality is I feel nothing but weak.
“Well, I hate to break it to you, but therapy works at its own pace. It doesn’t care what your schedule is.” Chuckling lightly, Liam’s voice softens, and disgust claws up my throat. “You’ll be okay eventually. Even if it takes a while. I know you’re going to overcome this, cousin.”
I don’t say a thing and Liam continues to go on. “I know how much it sucks to have everyone only wanting to talk about it. The only thing anyone says is ‘how’s the arm’ or ‘if you need anything, let me know’, but they don’t really mean it, and they don’t really care. At least, it seems like that after a while. They say it to be polite, but we’re human. People like you and me, we know one only cares about the other.”
“I feel like I’m suddenly made of glass,” I admit ashamedly, and I sit down on the benchpress to hold my forehead in my free palm. “It’s awful. I can’t do anything without feeling this pain, and it’s all because of Asim. And for what?”
“Physical therapy can’t help with the trauma, that’s true. You’re gonna have to figure that part out on your own, since you’re so damn stubborn.” This time, I chuff a quiet laugh as Liam’s tone shifts. “If you ask me, that runs in the family. You could go to a different type of therapist, but I doubt you’d want to go that route.”
“I’d rather eat a fresh pile of hot shit.” Liam busts out into laughter at my admission.
“Humor must run thick in our family too. What’re you up to now?”
Home. Fuck, it still feels weird to refer to this mansion as my house. “I’m at home in the gym. I wanted to try a few machines out. Tried the elliptical, bike, even tried some leg workouts. Surprisingly enough, even that made my arm hurt somehow.”
“Okay. I’ll come pick you up. We have an appointment we can’t miss,” Liam says, and I sit up in alarm.
“What? No, I don’t.”
“Yeah, it’s a surprise,” he drawls, “you’ll love it. I’ll be there in a couple hours. I’ll be boarding the plane in a bit.” He hangs up before I can tell him to fuck off. Groaning, I duck my head in defeat.
I drop my phone carelessly onto the mat below. Pushing my palms into my eye sockets, I fling my head back and take a huge breath and hold it. Fuck! I’m not some pathetic idiot. He doesn’t have to hop on a flight to have some ‘surprise’ meeting, as he called it. To be honest, I’m not even in the fucking mood.
Shaking my head viciously, I snatch my phone and stand up. Pocketing my cell, I smack my cheeks and roll my shoulders. Pulling myself out of my pity party, I suck in a deep breath. Whatever it is, I can handle it. Today isn’t the day I give in.
Not when I have Delilah waiting for me. What a fucking asshole would I be, giving up after I finally have her in my life as my partner? I can’t have a bad day when she’s facing down her father. That’s just bad timing. She needs me here for her, so I’ll shove my shit down deep.
Walking out of the small gym in my house, I glance around the home. I’m still learning where everything is because it’s so massive.
As I make my way up to my room to take a quick shower before Liam arrives, I square my shoulders. No more wallowing. No more misery. I head into the ensuite bathroom, strip out of my sweat-ridden clothes and turn on the shower. As I wait for the steam to become visible, my thoughts drift to Delilah.
She’ll call me when she’s done. If I interrupt her meeting, she’ll never forgive me. Right now, at this moment, Delilah is fightingherfight, and I have to fight mine. Mine just happens to be a mental fight, whereas hers exists in the real world.
I’m quick to take a shower, change into fresh clothes, and I’ve even had a conversation with Eamon before Liam arrives at the house. He has a driver, who happens to be Luca, our cousin. His mother was Desmond Mackenzie’s full-blooded sister.
“Come on, cousin. Let’s go. We have somewhere to be,” Liam announces the second he opens the front door.
“Tell me where we’re going, and I’ll think about it,” I snipe back from the foyer, and Liam grumbles under his breath.
“Stop fucking around,” Liam groans, and I follow suit. The two of us walk out to the SUV, and while Liam sits on the passenger side, I hop in the back.
“Don’t worry, he’s not a therapist.” Still, distrust crinkles my nose even as I climb into the car. He grins in satisfaction at me. Luca backs the SUV up, and we’re passing through the gates in no time.
“Are you going to tell me what this surprise of yours is?” I cock a brow and look at Liam, waiting for him to answer.
An amused smirk crosses his face. “Nowhere special, just the range.”
“What?” I groan, a bit surprised even.
“You’re not getting over your fear unless you face it. And I know how tough it can be, especially the first time.” Liam sounds a bit more serious, and I settle back into my seat. He’s right. I know he’s fucking right.
“I don’t have the stamina I once did,” I admit, even though I’d rather not. I was one who set records when I went through Defence Forces training, and now I’m barely able to shoot a gun.
