When I woke up the next morning, the pain in my leg had subsided for the most part. Sadie had been right the night before that I'd overworked myself the last couple of days, not lessening my workouts in the slightest as I threw the rest of my energy—mental and physical—into the Veteran Appreciation Night. Plus, being on my feet for the majority of the night had definitely been a change of routine for me as well. All of that had compounded together, resulting in a less than stellar evening.

Small pricks of pain had started rearing their ugly heads in the early afternoon, though they weren't unbearable. I'd simply popped a pain pill, taken off my prosthetic, and then sat in front of the television for a few hours with an ice pack, hoping that would put the aches to rest. But the discomfort started building once more after Sadie had arrived, and by the time our plates had been scraped clean, there was no hiding the agony I was in.

While I wished that she didn't have to see me like that—weak and in distress—I was also thankful that she'd been around to help. That she'd seen me trying to pull away and stayed. I hadn't expected it, but the way she didn't seem to mind just being there for support—caring for me right up until we'd laid down next to one another and fell asleep—meant more to me than she knew.

Thinking of Sadie, I rolled over under the covers and reached to the other side of the bed to pull her into my chest, though my hand met only the empty sheets. Opening my eyes, I saw that I was indeed alone, but from the strong smell of coffee drifting in through the bedroom door that'd been left slightly ajar, it was evident she hadn't gone far.

A low groan slipped out as I sat up and started stretching out my muscles, knowing I desperately needed it. Twenty minutes later, I'd finished stretching, had put my prosthetic back on, and had made a quick pit stop to the bathroom before I made my way down the hall towards the kitchen.

What greeted me was quite simply the most domestic scene I could imagine. Sadie had pulled an old t-shirt out of my closet and had donned it, not caring that it fell down to her mid-thigh, and she was leaning casually against the kitchen counter, her hands wrapped around a large coffee mug as her eyes slowly scanned the space.

"Redecorating in your mind?" I asked, arching my brow as I walked over to her.

"First of all, I think it would simply be considered decorating, because it doesn't really look like much was done to begin with," she replied teasingly, to which I rolled my eyes. Though she was right. Besides a few photos here and there, everything was much more practical than for aesthetic reasons. "And secondly, I can't help it. Especially with a canvas as blank as this." She gestured her hand out in front of her. "Ideas just start flashing through my mind."

Grabbing the coffee pot, I poured my own mug and situated myself next to her. "Go on then," I said, nudging her gently with my elbow. "Tell me what you would do with my house."

She quirked a brow as she glanced up to meet my gaze. "Really?"

I lifted a shoulder in a small shrug. "I'm curious."

"Okay," she said, pausing for a moment as she collected her thoughts. "I know color probably isn't your thing, but something like a navy blue or dark green statement wall could bring some contrast into the space while not veering so far away from the whole black and white aesthetic you have going on. Or you could add some wood into the mix—either on a wall or by replacing the countertops. Then I think the main thing would be bringing more you into the space. Hanging some more pictures or buying a piece of art. Adding a bookcase. Maybe even buying a large plant to add some greenery."

I hummed as I tried to picture what she was describing, and found myself not hating the image my mind conjured up. "Interesting."

"Interesting good, or interesting bad?"

"Leaning towards good," I drawled, taking a sip of coffee as I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into my side. "You really have me pegged, don't you?"

"I wouldn't say I have you fully figured out," she mused. "More like it's a work in progress."

"Makes sense," I replied, but not really having anywhere to take the conversation, I leaned down slightly to press my lips lightly against her neck. Then I did it again, slightly higher. And again, drawing a vague line up towards her earlobe, which I nipped before pulling back as she released a shaky breath.

"While it's obvious where your mind currently is," she teased, looking up to meet my eyes before they flitted down to the counter behind me, "my curiosity spiked when I saw this. And not that I'm prying, but I'm wondering who Courtney and Dan are?"

I tensed at the question, and when I turned to see her pointing to the stylized wedding invitation peeking out of the pile of mail on the counter, I held back a curse. The invite had come earlier in the week, and while I'd known about the engagement, I certainly hadn't expected an invitation to the wedding. Which was why I'd left it discarded with the rest of the junk mail, ready to toss when garbage day rolled around, because there was no way in hell I wanted anything to do with the wedding.

She lifted a brow, having not sensed the change in me. "Are they friends? Family?"

"Uh." I scratched my chin and took a step back from her. While her question had been innocent enough, there was no way she could've known it would spawn a series of intrusive thoughts surrounding the last times I'd seen Courtney. Which is exactly what was happening. "Neither actually," I said gruffly. "That would be my ex-girlfriend and her fiancé."

The very same one I'd been hopelessly in love with for years. Since high school. The one I'd thought about while overseas as my constant. Only to find out after the fact that she'd abandoned me long before my accident when she'd cheated on me, repeatedly, with a guy she'd run into at the grocery store one day named Dan.

A flicker of shock coated her features. "Your ex invited you to her wedding?"

"Apparently."

"Are you two still in contact, then, or...?" she asked, pushing further with a furrowed brow.

I huffed out a laugh. "That would be a no. I haven't seen or spoken with her since I broke up with her. Which was during the early days of my injury, when she thought it'd be a good time to let me know she hadn't exactly been faithful while I'd been deployed."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"Then why would she invite you to her wedding?"

"I don't know, Sadie. Maybe it's because we've known each other since high school. Maybe she wants to rub it in my face. Maybe she feels bad. I honestly have no fucking clue."

I hadn't meant to raise my voice as I spoke, but as more thoughts began to pile up inside my head, the more they stoked the anger and resentment that had long since been buried.

I was angry that I'd spent so much of my life loving her. Loving the way she balanced out my quiet nature and brought me out of my shell. Loving the way she was so supportive when I'd enlisted and loving the way she'd stayed. All the way up until she didn't. Until, somehow, she'd turned into a different person than the woman I'd fallen for, and I was left at rock bottom, picking up the pieces of my life alone.

The distress was clearly showing outwardly, as Sadie watched me with worried eyes for a moment before asking, "Are you okay?"

"No, I don't... I just—" I raked a hand through my hair, my chest tightening. "You don't understand."

"Then help me too," she pleaded softly, reaching out to touch me but I took a step back.

It was no use. Because not only was my train of thought already going off the rails, it was weaving Sadie into the narrative. Making my reaction one that was crazy and irrational, but one I couldn't seem to keep a lid on.

"It wouldn't do any good, because in some ways, I think you're a lot like her. You're happy—a ball of sunshine—but you also flip flop around, going in whatever direction life takes you. I can't do that. I don't want to do that. I want stability after what she put me through, breaking my heart when I needed her the most, and if you can't commit to a path in life, how can you see yourself committing to a relationship? You can't, and you'll leave just like how you left your finance job when it didn't suit your life anymore."

I knew as soon as the words were out in the open that I regretted them. That it was my fear and insecurities talking, but there was no taking them back. The damage was done.

"What. The. Fuck?" Sadie said, eyes wide and full of hurt.

"Sadie..."

"Don't." She shook her head, holding up a hand to keep the space between us. "I can understand how thinking about her—how thinking about the past—is hard for you, especially because that time of your life held so much pain." Her breath hitched, as though she was holding back tears, which made it feel like one thousand tiny knives were stabbing at my heart. "But there is no reason—no fucking reason—to tear me down because of that." Her eyes flared with rage. "I'm not Courtney. Did I leave my job back in Los Angeles? Yes, because I was unhappy and needed to pursue a different path. One that I'm proud of. But that decision wasn't made on a whim. I spent months contemplating if it was the right move for me. And while I may be a ball of sunshine, as you so eloquently put it, that's not a bad thing. That's just me. And if you have a problem with that... then you need to get over that yourself. I can't be the one to fix you."

It was clear she didn't want to be around me any more—not that I blamed her—when she turned on her heel and headed to my room, quickly changing back into the clothes she'd arrived in last night. In what felt like seconds, her footsteps grew louder but they were headed for the front door. It creaked open and then slammed shut, the sound echoing loudly through the house as I clenched my eyes shut and berated myself internally, wondering what the hell I'd just done.