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They didn’t hide from their problems, they sucked it up and faced them head-on.
And being there for each other during the whole “not hiding from, sucking it up, and facing problems head-on” thing was what best friends did.
“What’s going on with you, with your leg?”
Mia scowled and avoided his gaze. “It’s nothing. A leg cramp, that’s all.”
“Bullshit. You used to get leg cramps all the time after track-and-field training, and they never looked anything like that. So what’s really going on? Does it have something to do with why you were discharged?”
Shifting in her seat and adjusting the heat pack again, Mia sat in silence and continued scowling at nothing in particular, so Oliver took a breath and tried a different tactic.
“Hey,” he said, gently bumping his shoulder against hers. “This is me you’re talking to. You always used to tell me everything.”
She snorted and shook her head. “That was a long time ago, Bennett.”
Ollie cocked one brow. “Bennett? Really? I’m not one of your little toy soldiers, Mia.”
“Of course not,” she said, looking mildly offended. “My diggers were better behaved and knew not to question me.”
“Noted,” Ollie replied, grinning. “But if you call me Bennett again, I will tickle you until you get the hiccoughs. Because I know how much youlovegetting the hiccoughs.”
Mia hated getting the hiccoughs.
Once, when they were fifteen, she’d gotten them so bad she’d actually thrown up. She’d then continued with a weird combination of hiccoughing and vomit-scented belching for another hour after that. To date, it was the most disgusting thing Oliver had ever seen. Even worse than the hot dog incident.
But at least his threat made her look at him. Glare at him, actually, but it was better than her avoiding him.
“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “You really want to know what’s going on with me?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
She stuck out her chin and forced a tight-lipped smile that made his balls shrink. “I have arthritis.”
Pretty sure he’d heard her wrong, Ollie frowned and said, “You’re only thirty-five years old. How the fuck do you have arthritis?”
“Because I do, that’s how,” she snapped, then looked away again. “And why do you even care?” Her hand tightened on the heat pack, her knuckles blanching with the effort.
“Because you’re my friend, Mia,” Ollie snapped back, his frustration getting the better of him. “A little fact you seem to have forgotten.” He shook his head. “I don’t care how long it’s been since we spoke last, you will always be my best friend. I will always want to know what’s going on with you. So stop being so bloody stubborn and let me in. Like you used to.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snarled.
Oliver’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl of his own, and he hissed out a frustrated breath. “Let me in, Mia.”
“You don’t want me to do that,” she said. “Not really.”
Turning his body to face her, he said, “Yeah, actually, I do.”
“No,” she said more forcefully, looking sideways at him. “You don’t. Because you won’t like what you find there.” Then she let out a breath and seemed to fold in on herself, her shoulders slumping and her head falling so far forwards that her chin almost rested on her chest. “I’m not the same girl you used to know, Ollie. I’m….”
“What?”
She lifted her head and stared out over the garden, then straightened her spine and hardened her voice. “Broken.”
He shouldn’t have been surprised by her attitude, not after the previous night. He’d seen how much it pained her to not be able to do something as simple as walk up a flight of stairs without help. Seen how she’d glared at the walking stick in her room when he’d woken her up that morning. Mia wasn’t just stubborn, she was proud too.
A challenging combination.
She’d spent her whole life training to follow in her father’s footsteps and join the army, and had earned the nickname Major Mia long before she’d actually achieved the rank. The last time Ollie checked up on her, he’d been told she was on the fast track to colonel.
