By the end of the session, we’ve practiced with clamps, scissors, forceps. We’ve tied a dozen knots. Blake critiques each pair with clinical detachment. When he passes me, he only says “Good” before moving on.
I gather my things slowly, giving myself time to steady my breath. Eli lingers, leaning against the desk.
“You did great,” he says.
“Thanks.”
“You’re thinking about him, though.”
I stiffen. “About whom?” I ask, as if there’s any question.
“Henry,” he says softly. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
I swallow. My throat feels like it’s lined with sandpaper. “He told me we had no future,” I say again.
“And you believed him?”
“I had to,” I whisper. “Because if I didn’t, I’d be there right now instead of here.”
Eli studies me for a moment. Then he nods. “Then be here. All the way. This isn’t a half measure.”
The words settle in my chest like a weight and a relief at once. This isn’t a half measure.
This is your life. Your chosen career.
This isn’t a half measure.
When I step outside, the heat hits me like a wall. I sling my backpack higher on my shoulder and walk toward the library instead of toward my place. Work, I tell myself. Read. Review. Learn the names, the uses, the knots until they’re muscle memory.
Because if I let myself think too long about Henry, I’ll break.
And I can’t break. Not now.
Not when I’ve chosen.
I keep walking.
Twelve
Henry
A week later…
I’m back in my old room.
The rest of the week passed in pieces. Hours stitched together by pills, ice packs, check-ins from the doctor, and my mother’s hovering. I’m not supposed to bend, lift, or push anything. No ranch work. No projects at my half-finished house. No driving. No work at the foundation.
Just rest.
Shelves lining the wall still hold my baseball trophies. I trace a finger over the tallest one, the state championship. My name is etched on a little brass plate at the bottom.
Henry Simpson, MVP
Once upon a time, that meant something.
Now I’m standing here with a scar on my scalp and orders not to exert myself.
I ease down onto the bed, and Zach snuggles next to me.
