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“You sure?” Lyric nudged his shoulder. “I could drive you to the city for an X-ray right now.”
“That would be a waste of time,” he assured her. “I’m feeling better already.”
The two women shared an exasperated look.
“I can give you a prescription for a pain med, if you’d like,” Kyra offered.
“Nah. I’ll tough it out.” He didn’t like any of those meds messing with his mind, and he never remembered to take pills anyway. He needed to be fully alert and aware right now.
“You Navy SEALs.” Kyra shook her head. “It’s like they don’t feel pain. But I guess when you’ve been shot in the leg, suffering from a few bruises is kind of a walk in the park.”
Lyric whirled to gape at him. “You got shot in the leg?”
“They’ve all been shot.” Kyra gave her a funny look. “Aiden in the hand, Silas in the shoulder, and Thatch in the leg. I’m surprised he hasn’t told you all his war stories.”
“He has told me,” Lyric said quickly. “I mean, some of them. Maybe not all of them.” Her eyes were silently questioning his.
“If I gave up all my secrets, I’d lose my sense of mystery.” That sounded better than saying he didn’t exactly like talking about his past either. Being a soldier meant he’d lived in a different world. A world no one else could understand unless they’d been there. Maybe that was why relationships had eluded him. “Thanks again, Doc.” He headed for the door before they could try to unpack any more of his baggage.
“I’m not a doctor,” Kyra reminded him. “And you’re welcome. I’d advise you to rest for a few weeks. No hiking. And be careful at work.”
“Sure thing.” He grinned. She hadn’t said anything about staying off the back of a bronc.
He’d made it into the reception area of the clinic before Lyric caught up to him. “Do you have time for a few gentle stretches?” Her hands were fidgeting with the zipper on her fleece vest. “That might help you loosen up a little.”
Thatch checked his watch. Aiden and Silas likely wouldn’t miss him at work for a while. They’d all agreed to get in a little overtime today, but those two were always taking off for secret rendezvous with their significant others, so why couldn’t he? “Sure. I’ve got some time.”
“Go easy.” Kyra breezed out the door with some folders and started to file them in the reception desk. “No overdoing anything because you’re trying to impress your girlfriend.”
“I think I’m past that.” He couldn’t impress Lyric if he tried. And he had. Plenty of times.
Thatch followed his fictitious girlfriend down the hall to her studio.
“I need to know all your war stories.” Lyric closed the door behind him.
Ah.And there was the reason she’d randomly wanted him to do some stretching. “That would be a lot of ground to cover.” He sat on the bench and took off his boots so he wouldn’t scuff up her fancy bamboo floor. “It would take me more than a quick yoga session to tell you everything.” Yes, he was stalling, but he didn’t have war stories. He had tattered memories. Painful memories. Horrific things he’d witnessed and experienced.
Thanks to the movies and television, people tended to forget that those scenes in his head weren’t images of glorified violence where the good guys always won. His flashbacks were ugly and real. He didn’t only remember the victories they’d had. He remembered every impossible life-or-death choice he’d made, every selfless soldier he’d watched die, every person he couldn’t save on both sides of the war. And while he’d dealt with most of those things over the last few years, they were still a lot to carry.
“You can start by telling me about when you got shot.” Lyric took two mats off the shelf and unrolled them on the floor side by side.
He dragged himself to the mat and stood the way she showed him—feet hip distance apart, spine straight.
“Now raise your right arm out to the side, and I’ll carefully pull you into a stretch.” She pressed on his arm. “Keep your chest open, and tell me if it’s too much.”
All of this was too much. Spending time alone with Lyric, feeling her hands on him, sharing all his secrets with her.
“So?” she prompted. “Did you get shot on a mission?”
“Yeah.” At least he could face the windows and not her. “It was on our third mission as SEALs. We were going in to take out a target.” In trying to separate himself from the memory, he probably sounded like a robot. “We thought it would be a surprise ambush in the compound during the middle of the night, but somehow they were tipped off and ready for us.”
“That’s frightening.” Lyric pressed his arm another centimeter back while he fought a groan.
“Anyway, there were three terrorists waiting for us outside the gate. One of them got me before we could get them.”
She seemed to wait for him to continue, but he didn’t have a whole lot more to say on the subject.
“You must’ve been so scared,” she half whispered.
