“No, you don’t need to bring anything,” Gianna says quietly. “Did you ever go to that acupuncturist I found?”
“No,” I answer bluntly.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t need some new age woman talking about my aura and claiming she’s rid me of the ghosts of my past while she jams needles into my body.”
“That’s not … well, I don’t think that’s what happens during acupuncture, but I honestly don’t know. So what if they do all of that, Leo? If it helps your headaches, does it matter?” Gia asks.
I shrug. “I don’t see how it’ll help. The military doctors said this is just who I am now. My head is fucked up even more than it was.”
“Have you been going to the therapist Dom recommended?” she asks, but I don’t answer. No. I’m not in a place to even think about therapy. I’m still too pissed off. I’m angry that I’m hurt and that the Army didn’t care. I’m angry that my career was taken from me in a split second. And I’m so fucking angry that I watched some of my best friends get blown up. So no, not ready for therapy.
“Leo,” Gianna whispers.
“Leave it alone, Gia.”
“No,” she snaps. I look down at her to see a murderous expression, hands on her hips in annoyance. “No, I will not leave youalone. I’ve walked on eggshells for too long, letting you traipse around like you’re in purgatory.”
“Maybe I am in purgatory! Maybe this is exactly what I’ve been given because I deserved it!” I shout, throwing up my arms in frustration. I lost everything. People have broken hearts because of me. Surely this is my penance.
I hate when my mind plays the “what if” game. What if I hadn’t turned right? What if I’d stopped twenty seconds prior? What if I hadn’t reenlisted? What if I’d proposed that night? What if she hadn’t moved on? What if I was still with her, and we were married today?
Ella Langley stole my heart from the moment I saw her in eighth grade. Wavy blonde hair that seemed to sparkle under the sun and crystal clear blue eyes that made my heart beat faster when they looked at me, I was a goner from the beginning. She’d been a transfer, immediately pulled into the popular crowd, far away from me. But I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Always the loner, I mostly kept to myself, or hung with Gia. I was always aware of Ella, feeling like the air shifted whenever she was near me. It only took six months before I spoke to her, courtesy of Gia befriending her, and I was even more captivated by her soft and steadfast personality. Ella pulled me out of my shell, but in a quiet and patient way, never making me feel like I wasn’t enough.
“I think we should talk about her,” Gia comments, reading my thoughts. Stupid twin thing.
“No.”
“Leo,” Gianna protests, but I throw up a hand to stop her from speaking.
“There’s nothing to talk about. She broke up with me. She moved on. That ship sailed, and I’ve come to terms with it,” I lie. I haven’t come to terms with jack shit.
I’d only been home in Eternity Springs for a few months when I ran into Ella. My mom had convinced me to go into town with her to pick up some baked goods at Bake, Batter, and Bowl, mysister Isabella’s bakery. Begrudgingly, I went, keeping my head down as I stiffly walked behind my mom. That’s probably why I didn’t see Ella until she was right in front of me. I didn’t have time to prepare myself. I saw her beautiful face, with an infant bundled up against the cold January temperatures, huddled against her chest, and I thought I was having a heart attack. She’d stammered my name, but I didn’t give her any time to continue. Rushing past her, I stalked into Isabella’s bakery, walking past the counter, and straight into the back.
I’ve always hated getting “the look” from people. For me, it comes for a variety of reasons, but it almost always comes quicker than I’d like. Hearing I was injured overseas, or that I lost many friends in our failed mission usually gets a gasp, a sympathetic hand on my arm, and the look of sadness. Explaining I had no intention of moving back to Eternity because I wanted to continue working in some capacity for the military gets a look of sympathy mixed with consternation, like they think I couldn’t possibly know what I want in my life. Finding out I have a traumatic brain injury because of my last mission makes people somehow feel guilty, and that look usually leads to them skedaddling pretty quickly. How my injuries in a war overseas becomes about them, I’ll never understand.
But when I got a mixture of the first and second look from Ella, I peaced out of there as fast as possible. I knew she didn’t want me to stay in the military. Our last fight, and subsequent breakup, had been about just that. I’d begged her to join me in North Carolina, but she’d refused. She begged me to move home, and I said no. We were in a stalemate, and she’d dropped the bomb on me about a breakup. I shouldn’t have agreed to it.
I went back to North Carolina an emotionally broken man, and threw myself into work to avoid thinking about her. Ella only reached out once, a few months after we broke up, but I’d been deployed and out of range. I didn’t get the message for a few weeks, and when I tried to return her call, she didn’t answer. Didshe regret the breakup? Was there something she’d needed from me? I never found out.
“… I don’t think it’s healthy for you to avoid everything having to do with Ella. You’re bound to run into her again,” Gianna says quietly, bringing me back to the present.
“Not if I never leave Everlasting’s property,” I mutter.
“Oh, that’s a super mature response,” Gia snaps.
I shrug. “There aren’t many reasons to leave. Anything I might need from town can be delivered these days, and I’m sure as hell not going to go hang out at bars to try and pick up women.”
“A date might do you some good, actually. When’s the last time you took someone out?”
An actual date? Ella. Eight years ago. “What the hell does that matter?”
Gia steps in front of me, lightly poking me in the stomach. “Look. I don’t like talking about this either, but maybe you need to find someone who can help you … loosen up a little bit.”
Jesus Christ. “Are you seriously suggesting I find a fuck buddy?”
She throws up her hands in frustration. “I don’t care what you call it, but you’re wound so damn tightly! There has to be a woman out there who you can enjoy for a night, without getting attached, and who doesn’t talk too much. I know you hate chatty people.”
