long past when exhaustion told him to quit. The ache was still there, and he’d keep going until it became bearable.
It didn’t.
He fell asleep in the chair, the axe balanced on his lap. He hadn’t worn gloves, so the blisters had formed and broken. He embraced the pain.
He didn’t rouse until he felt a hand on his shoulder, a shaking that became more insistent as he didn’t immediately care to respond. “Rory.”
Johnny’s voice, sharp. Rory raised his head, blinked. It was past sunrise. Well past. Fuck. “Hey, Johnny.” He coughed, straightened. “Hell, sorry. What time is it?”
“Nine-thirty.” His friend’s bearded face was grave. “I would have been here earlier, but Tim brought that grain delivery and we had those orders to fill. You left a note that you might be in late, but I thought I’d come by anyway.”
Rory managed a smile. “I looked that bad yesterday, did I?” He coughed again, shifted. Shit. The autumn chill had gotten to him. Big surprise, with him sweating through his shirt, then sitting out here all damn night, hunched over.
“You’ve looked better.” Johnny peered at him. “You been burning it at both ends, and pushing yourself on your workouts. The other night, you didn’t even hear me honk when I passed you on Gordon Road.” He sobered. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but we know it’s tough on you, being without her.”
Rory gazed at him distantly. Yeah, that was a word for it. Tough. He shouldn’t be letting it knock him down like this, though.
“I’ll go get a shower. Then I’ll get to the store.” He coughed again.
Johnny looked at him dubiously. “Okay. But if you change your mind and want to take a day, just text me, all right? We’ll cover you.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
Rory pushed himself into the house. Handled the bathroom stuff, then pushed himself over to the shower. He sat there for a while, looking at it, imagining the effort to slide himself onto the shower chair, bathe, get back out.
Slowly he turned, went back to his room. He transferred himself into the bed, sent Johnny that text. Then he rolled over, not caring about putting a pillow between his knees like he usually did. He probably had pressure sores forming on his ass and backs of his legs, because he hadn’t been keeping to his regimen of shifting and lifting his weight throughout the day like he was supposed to. He needed to pay attention to that.
He needed her.
Maybe if he went to sleep long enough, he’d figure out a way to bring her back to him. Or maybe he’d sleep long enough she’d come back to him on her own. He just wanted to talk to her. Hear her voice, know she was okay. Know that he hadn’t done this. Making her feel like she’d let him down, when he was pretty sure the opposite was true.
Especially right now. Why was it so hard to think? Every day since she’d gone, as the feelings had expanded like an aggressive cancer, he’d tried to shame himself out of acting this way. Telling himself he was acting like a damn two-year-old who’d had a favorite toy taken away.
The truth was, he was a man in his twenties with half a body, who felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest.
The truth was—just like for Daralyn—even his best day meant a bigger effort to do what everyone else did without a second thought. He had to talk himself through things, over things, around things. There was a millstone always waiting, eager to yoke itself back around his neck, tell him what he’d lost. And losing her meant that millstone had doubled in size and taken him back down, even deeper than before.
The truth was, suddenly those things he was so proud of himself for proving he could do, embrace a good life, take stock of his blessings, didn’t seem to mean much.
The truth was, he couldn’t handle losing something again that meant as much to him—more, even—than his legs.
Ever since she’d left, that was the feeling that had been growing inside him, taking up every spot until he had nowhere else to contain it.
Fuck, he needed her so much. But he couldn’t reach out to her, couldn’t do that to her.
If you tell her not to go, she won’t.
He was afraid he’d have to live up to what he’d promised himself. He’d have to let her go permanently so she could be happy,