The words take me back to another time, when hot Louisiana winds swirled around me and another voice scolded me.
Push through, Mercer. You don’t stop because you’re tired. You don’t stop because it hurts. You stop when you’re done and not a second before! Grit your teeth and do your job.
I hated my drill sergeant for pushing us past the point of exhaustion, yet his words branded themselves into my bones and carved me into exactly the soldier they needed me to be. It’s been my mindset ever since: push through and don’t stop. Whether it’s on the battlefield or in my job, I keep going. Always.
But it’s becoming harder and harder to live by.
This isn’t another training mission or another battlefield. This isn’t some wound I can tape up or a cramp I can run off. This battle isinsideme—my own body turning into my enemy.
The tingling. The weakness. The unpredictability. It’s all I know now. All I can focus on.
How the hell am I supposed to push through when the minutes feel like hours and the hours feel like torture? Will it really be three months before I find some relief? Or longer?If I find any relief at all.
If my primary doctor was right about my symptoms, if his initial diagnosis is true… then there won’t be a cure. The pain won’t go away.
I want to deny that reality. Reject it with every cell in my being. It can’t be real. Thiscan’tbe my life now.
Voices echo on the other side of the door, snapping me to attention. I force myself to straighten up and shake out my arm. I can do this. I’ve trained for this. No one needs to see me break. Not Declan. Not Piper. Certainly not our customers.
Not anyone.
I just need to keep pushing through.
Taking a deep breath, I return to my post by the front door and flinch when I find River there checking IDs as people enter—doingmyjob. When he locks eyes with me, his expression is full of something I can’t read.
Shame curls in my stomach as I take his place.
River steps aside but doesn’t leave. He looks over my shoulder, at the storage closet, then raises a brow as if to say,“What was that about?”
I pretend not to notice.
He waits, blue eyes piercing, like he thinks he’s earned some sort of explanation. This isn’t the first time he’s covered for me.
When I don’t give him one, he frowns. “Look, I’m not the prying type—”
“Then don’t,” I cut in, louder than I intended. “I’m fine, okay? I can do my job.”
His gaze never wavers. “Can you, though? This is the second time I’ve covered for you tonight.”
His blunt observation only agitates me further.
“Look, I know we don’t know each other since I’m the new guy and all, but clearly something’s going on with you. And if I can see it, you better believe our boss sees it.”
My attention flicks to the bar, where Declan is talking to a customer. A sharp, cold sensation trickles down my back.
“I’m fine,” I say again, through gritted teeth.
“Then get it together, Vince,” River mutters before walking away.
I tug at my shirt, skin hot. Once again, it feels like I’m under a spotlight. So many people have commented on my behavior lately—customers and co-workers alike.
The mask is slipping.
My stomach sinks when I see River walking straight toward Declan.Shit. Is he going to say something? I don’t know the guy at all. He’s worked here all of what, four days? He might not have patience for flailing co-workers.
I hold my breath as I watch the two men talk, waiting for my boss to turn in my direction. But to my surprise, he never does. After five minutes, Declan throws his head back in a laugh and claps River on the shoulder before walking away.
River sees me staring. He points to me, then to Declan, delivering a clear message.Next time, I’ll tell him.
