been diligent with my physical therapy. I was hoping I’d get credit for time served.
I wasn’t sure what Dr. Bridget was looking for with the poking and prodding, but she found it. Or didn’t find it. Whichever one was the good one.
With a sigh, she stood up and leaned against the counter. “You know I’m not in favor of this trip, right?”
“You may have mentioned it once or a thousand times.” I put on my best begging eyes. Hey, it works on Mira. Sometimes. “C’mon, Doc, please? Pleeeeeeease?”
She tried real hard not to laugh, and finally managed to keep it to an exasperated chuckle. “You have no shame, do you?”
“None.”
“Yeah, I guess you can go. Just make sure you pay attention, and if it starts hurting, take it easy. Go get dressed.”
I gave a little “woo-hoo!” of celebration, and ducked into the tiny curtained alcove to get my pants back on. I expected to hear the door open and close as the good doctor left the room, and when that didn’t happen, I knew she wasn’t done with me. “Something on your mind, Bridge?”
“Mira says you’re still not sleeping well.”
“Why is it that I always seem to come up in conversation between you two?” Annoyance made the words a bit sharper than I’d meant. But dammit, why was my business everyone’s business? Deep breath, Jess. No reason to rip her head off, she’s just doing her job .
“She’s worried about you.” Even without seeing her, I could hear the frown in her voice. Part of it was the doctor in her, being irritated at a stubborn patient. Part of it was my wife’s best friend, being pissed at me for upsetting said wife. “Are those sleeping pills not helping?”
Fully clothed, I pulled the curtain aside so I could at least look at her while we were talking. “Wouldn’t know, I didn’t take them.”
She sighed again. “Jess—”
“No. Just, no. I’m not going to drug myself out of my gourd. It’s not that bad.” Truth was, I hated the fog the sleeping pills caused. I was still very aware that someone had tried to run me off the road last March. That person was still out there. I couldn’t afford to be anything less than alert.
Of course, the lack of sleep wasn’t helping that cause either. I always dreamed about my fights. It’s just the way my brain processes my bizarre excuse for a life. But in the past few months, the nightmares were getting worse. One of them was being particularly persistent, and when that one ripped and clawed its way through my head, there was no sleeping for the rest of the night. I called him the Yeti. It was almost four years ago that I’d faced him, and while he hadn’t killed me, I sure as hell hadn’t gotten out unscathed. There wasn’t a single night in the past month that I hadn’t woken up in a panic, flailing against something that wasn’t even there. In general, I was averaging about five hours a night. On a good night.
And doctor or not, it was none of her damn business. “Am I cleared for the trip?”
She eyed me for long moments, pursing her lips like she really wanted to say no, but eventually she nodded. “Yeah. Knock yourself out.” With one last scribble in my file, we were done.
I was bending to lace up my combat boots when she paused again. “Hey, Jesse?” There was a change in her voice. Hard to describe, but in my mind it always signaled her change from Dr. Bridget, to just plain Bridge. I looked up. “Thanks for taking Cam along. It’s been hard for him to meet folks here.”
This was the moment in those strained conversations where you either continued the argument, or let it go. I took a deep breath and opted to let it go. Part of me was absurdly proud of myself over that. I offered her a small smile, showing her I had no hard feelings, before turning back to my bootlaces. “He met you, didn’t he? How’d that happen?”
“Church.” That made me chuckle, though I carefully hid it. I was not surprised at all.
Finished with my boots, I