Page 57 of Firefly Embers

My eyes shot up to hers, and I swear I saw a hint of a smile playing on her lips. A subtle challenge.

Something good to come out of getting shot in the back? What the fuck good could have come out of that?

This wasn’t something I’d had to share before in group therapy, so I didn’t have a canned response at the ready like every question before.

I took a minute to think, picking at the skin around my thumbs as I batted around ideas in my head. Finding something good that came out of trauma seemed like an oxymoron.

As I sat surrounded by peers who’d gone through similar or more excruciating traumatic events, the only face I saw was Ray’s.

She was the best thing that had come out of all of this. The ache of unspoken love had lingered for what felt like forever. The reason for finally surrendering to it could always be traced back to the sharp, sudden sting of that gunshot.

If I hadn’t been shot, I would still be able to ride. I wouldn’t have turned into the grumpy asshole who snapped at anyone with a pulse. I would have continued using humor to hide the gnawing feeling of regret each time I neglected the swirl of emotions that surged when Ray was near.

If I hadn’t been shot, I wouldn’t have pushed her against that brick wall outside of Jack’s and tasted her perfect lips, heard her needy moans, or felt how responsive she was to my touch.

Just thinking about her made me smile, and I looked up at Leslie, her smile now wide. I could see the lightbulb turn on in her head as she and I both realized the small breakthrough I was having.

At the end of the day, if I hadn’t been shot, I wouldn’t have Ray the way I’d been dreaming about for years.

Before I could answer her, one of the meeting room doors opened up and Dr. Langford came in, striding over to stand behind Leslie, whispering something in her ear. Both of their eyes flicked to me, and I felt my heart begin to race.

What had I done?

Was I in some sort of trouble?

“Wade, do you mind coming with me?” Dr. Langford asked, extending her arm toward the meeting room door. I could sense everyone’s curiosity as to what was going on, but none of them dared speak.

I nodded silently, standing and following my therapist into the hall. She stopped right outside ‌the door as it clicked shut behind us, putting her hand gently on my forearm.

“You’re not in trouble,” she said, and I felt my anxiety relax marginally.

Memories of being called to the principal’s office briefly floated through my mind, and hearing that I wasn’t in trouble quelled a bit of the terrible scenarios I’d been conjuring.

“Is everyone at home okay?” I asked breathlessly, my body doing its best to catch up with my mind as my panic receded.

Had something happened to Pops?

Were Stella and the baby okay?

I closed my eyes, leaning into the box breathing that Dr. Langford had taught me in one of our first sessions.

Breathe in for four seconds.

Hold for four seconds.

Release for four seconds.

Hold for four seconds.

With each repeat of the breathing exercise, I willed my heart to beat regularly, slowing its rapid pace. Dr. Langford stood silently, letting me regulate my emotions. The knowledge that she was beside me was comforting as my heartbeat slowed.

“Yes, everyone’s fine. I’m sorry to have scared you. We got the results of your diagnostics, and the panel wanted to meet with you to discuss them. The only time that worked for everyone was right now, hence my pulling you out of an important therapy session.”

The results were in?

Fuck, I had just done my testing and scans yesterday. How had they gotten the results and come up with a diagnosis so fast? Surely that meant that the original doctor’s suggestion stood, and they had been right in keeping me from riding.

Coming out of the swirling haze of thoughts clouding my mind, I noticed Dr. Langford was walking down the hallway toward one of the small conference rooms.