“You’re just a big hunk of love, aren’t you, boy?”
Bones barks as if he agrees.
Watching them together eases something tight in my chest. I’m definitely glad I came. I need to talk to Ace.
We start toward the beach, the sand packed down from last night’s tide. It’s mostly empty thanks to the dreary overcast.
“There is nothing postcard-worthy about San Diego in the winter,” Ace says with a quiet chuckle.
“I kind of love it.”
He laughs. “You would.”
I take a deep breath, feel it burn in my lungs. It’s the kind of day that asks nothing from you. Doesn’t require energy. It just is.
Bones stays close at my side, alert but steady, matching my pace without pulling. I lean into him a little as the sand shifts beneath my feet.
Ace walks with his hands shoved into his hoodie, gaze forward. He gives me space for a few steps before turning to me.
“So,” he says carefully. “What did the doctor say?”
I shove one hand into my pocket, thumb rubbing against my knuckle until the skin feels raw. “A whole lot of everything and a whole lot of nothing.”
He hums as if that made any sense at all.
I tell him about the scans and the medication. The endless string of appointments I have over the next twelve months.
“And your legs?” he asks gently. “Any news there?”
I shrug. Ace knows that’s the biggest thing I worried about—how long I have before my life narrows to the seat of a wheelchair. It’s a fear he lived through, too, before he was fitted for his prosthetic.
“He can’t give me a definitive answer.”
The words land heavy between us, swallowed almost immediately by the sound of the surf.
Ace glances at me, really looking this time. “And I bet that’s driving you crazy, isn’t it?”
I grit my teeth, jaw tightening until it aches. He knows me well. “Yeah.”
He lets out a slow breath. “Maybe you need a different doctor.”
“No. I trust him. He’s good. I just…” I trail off, frustration curling tight in my chest. “I don’t know, Ace. He said it’s different for everyone, and we just need to take it as it comes.”
Ace laughs. “He clearly doesn’t know you like I do. Patience is not your best quality.”
“Fuck off.”
We walk in silence for a bit, the sand crunching softly under our weight. I try to line up the thoughts in my head, but they scatter every time I get close to saying them out loud.
“It’s not even the MS,” I admit finally. The words feel like a betrayal somehow. “I mean—it is. Obviously. But that’s not what’s eating at me.”
Ace nods slowly. “It’s all the unknown shit, isn’t it?”
My hand fists in my pocket. “If it was bad news with a timeline or something, at least I could plan around it. Adjust my expectations. Try to prepare. But this?” I gesture vaguely. “This limbo shit is brutal.”
Ace sucks in a breath, tossing a rock down the beach. “Yeah. Uncertainty’s a real bastard. I still think about those nights inAfghanistan, where we lost radio contact with the team. Do you remember that?”
How could I forget? It was two days of pure terror trying to reconnect.
