So now I’m a charity case.
Anger simmers in my chest. It’s a good thing I can’t speak, or I’d tell Joel to fuck off. I’m a SEAL. I don’t need his help, and I sure as hell don’t need his pity.
I pick up my pen and write one word on the notepad.
No.
I spin the notepad around, and Joel nods slowly as he reads it.
“Okay, I expected this.”
He’s not fazed by my anger, and that makes some of it dissipate. Joel knows me too well.
“You come see me when you’re ready. Clearing the land begins this week. If that’s all you want to sign up for, fine. I need men who are willing to work. You don’t need to talk, just work.”
He folds his arms and stares at me.
I guess working is better than not working. I shrug my shoulders.
Joel grins. “Perfect. I’ll text you the address.”
I scowl at Joel, but he’s right. There’s nothing wrong with my body, just a scar on my cheek and the inability to talk. I may as well work.
3
AVERY
Sunshine shimmers through the floor to ceiling windows of the medical center atrium as I walk through with a coffee in my hand. It’s busy with the usual bustle of a mid-week morning.
“Good morning.” I smile at a nurse as she passes.
It’s been two months since I started at the clinic, and I still get a rush every morning when I walk into work.
After six years of study and hours of placements, it’s a thrill to have my first proper job. Not that I’ve had patients of my own yet. I’m still on probation, and Maria, the clinic manager, is easing me into the job. She may be a little too cautious. I’ve had patients where she’s sat in with me, but I’m ready to take on someone on my own.
I pause before a trestle table displaying knitted baby clothes. The pastel colors fan out over the table, which is presided over by a large woman who rests her dark-skinned hands on her substantial stomach.
“Morning Avery.”
I finger one of the pastel-colored cardigans. “It’s so tiny.” My heart squeezes thinking about the tiny baby that would fit into something so small.
A matching knitted hat and booties are on display next to it, and I pick up the set.
“I’ll take this one.”
Gina raises an eyebrow at me and peers at me with dark chocolate eyes. “Who you buying all these for, honey?”
I pull a twenty out of my purse and hand it over. “The same babies you’re knitting them for.”
She takes the money, and a deep smile creases her lined face. “God bless you, Avery.”
I fold the knitted outfit into my purse and continue to the clinic. I’ll run it up to the NICU on my break.
Gina and her knitting circle knit the baby outfits for free, and all proceeds go to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit and the families whose babies end up there.
I don’t know why they don’t cut out the middleman and give the outfits straight to the babies who need them most. But I guess Gina enjoys coming to the Medical Center every day.
I take the corridor that leads to my clinic and use my keycard to get through the doors.
