Dev tightened his grip on his fork and stabbed at the mound of mashed potatoes on his plate, but kept his tone light as he shot Tanya a quick wink from his side of the booth. “Well, I’m a little out of practice. Don’t worry, it’ll come back to me.”
She rewarded him with the beginnings of a smile, but he still read concern—no, more like pity, in her gaze. “I’m talking about your physical therapy session this morning.”
Yeah, he knew that.
Despite the fact he’d just about passed out watching her stick his buddy with a dozen or so needles, he’d told her he still wanted to work with her. But she’d insisted on meeting with Pete, his physical therapist, first, so she’d gone with him to a session today.
“And you pretty much glossed over what happened after the accident and how hurt you really were. Pete filled in the details for me.”
Dev shrugged and tried not to grimace at the soreness radiating through his shoulders and back. Hell, he was one giant wall of hurt after being stretched, pulled and twisted for sixty agonizing minutes.
Great way to start a Monday morning.
Not to mention the ride back to Destiny. He probably should’ve taken her up on her offer to grab lunch while they were in Laramie, but he’d figured the stretch behind the wheel would give his body more time to recover. Yeah, bad decision. He was stiff as a board.
And not in a good way.
“After eight months, it’s been talked about enough.”
She leaned forward, keeping her voice low despite the fact that Sherry’s Diner, a popular place to eat in Destiny, was pretty much empty. “What you went through was horrible, but you’ve come such a long way since last summer. Why are you giving up now?”
Refusing to give that question any serious consideration, Dev mimicked her posture, bringing their faces close together over their half-eaten meals. He threw in one of his famous grins for good measure. “Who said anything about giving up? Maybe I was just waiting for you to come to the rescue.”
“Except you’re not interested in anything I specialize in.” Tanya straightened and reached for her iced tea. “Other than a massage, of course.”
Hmm, strike one for charm. “Couldn’t be any worse than the beating I took today.”
“Considering it’s the first therapy appointment you’ve kept in the past three weeks, I’d say you’re lucky you walked out of the clinic at all.”
She was right on both counts. If he tried to stand up now he’d probably fall flat on his face. As it was, he’d had to use to the cane just to keep upright in the parking lot.
“Pete also said you refuse to take any pain medication.”
Now it was Dev’s turn to sit back, his gaze glued to the table, certain he’d failed in keeping his discomfort off his face as the fire raced from his hip to his knee. “That’s right.”
“At all?”
He nodded, then looked up at her, not surprised by the disbelief in her eyes.
Giving the green light for Pete to share his medical records with Tanya had meant she’d learn that little tidbit about him, and he’d been waiting for her to bring it up. He figured now was as good a time as any for a discussion he’d had too many times to count in the past eight months with everyone from doctors to his folks.
“But why?”
Dev was glad they had scored one of the booths in the far corner of the diner. Not that it had prevented a few people from stopping by to say hello, lie to him that he looked good and force him to introduce Tanya.
Now he was glad for another reason, even though what he was about to say was certainly no secret in town.
“Because I’m an alcoholic.”
Her eyebrows rose even higher until they disappeared beneath the fringe of bangs, her doubtful expression replaced with a look of pure surprise.
She didn’t know.
He hadn’t been sure if Mac had told her how the two of them had met and become friends since Dev had run out on the old man’s pincushion session last Wednesday.
“I was twenty-seven when I finally got sick and tired of being a highly functioning drunk and joined AA,” he continued. “Eight years ago this summer.”
“Is that where you met Mac?”
“At the very first meeting. Of course, it took me almost a year of still being stupid and denying I actually had a drinking problem before I finally got with the program. Mac was always there for me. Still is.”
Tanya’s gaze dropped to her plate. She suddenly seemed very interested in her ketchup-laden fries. “It took Mac...my grandfather years to admit he had a problem.”
“Didn’t you say you once lived with him?”
“I was just a baby when my father took off and my mom and I had to move in with Mac. They used to have some real knock-down, drag-out fights about his drinking.”
Trying to imagine a child living in that type of environment had Dev reaching for his ice water, his throat suddenly tight. “Is that why you moved when you were eight?”
She jerked her head up.
“Yeah, I’ve got a pretty good memory.”
Tanya stared at him for a moment, and then gave in with a soft humph and looked away. Before he could ask her about it, she shook her head.
“One night my mom just threw everything we had into a couple of suitcases and we took off. I guess she couldn’t take it anymore. I remember her saying Mac probably wouldn’t even notice we were gone for at least a week.”
“And you stayed gone for twenty-three years.”
Tanya pulled in a deep breath then slowly released it. “Yes, we did. Thankfully, Mac finally got the help he needed, even though it took him another ten years. He found my mom not long after that—something to do with making amends—but it wasn’t until last year we reconnected as a family.”
“I think Mac’s pretty happy about that and the fact you’re here,” Dev said, then grinned. “And not just so you can practice your voodoo magic on him.”
“Ah, which brings us back to working together and my original question about why you aren’t taking any pain medication during your recovery.”
She was a smart woman. At least he’d thought so. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Tanya stared at him for a moment, tilting her head to one side. The action caused her straight, shiny hair, pulled back into a high ponytail, to slide over one shoulder. Damn, that was sexy. “You were afraid of your addiction finding a new vice.”
Like he thought, smart. “Scared more of that than the possibility of losing a limb. Although that idea scared the crap out of me at the time, as well.”
“When did you make this decision? If you don’t mind me asking.”
He didn’t mind. Why should he? Lord knew, he’d been asked that question many times. “I don’t remember being rescued. Okay, that’s not exactly true. I do remember when the search team found me and my brother. Lucid moments were few and far between for me during the time we were lost, but I knew I’d been busted up pretty bad.”
This was where the memories collided with reality.
“I thought... I could’ve sworn I told the EMTs I didn’t want to be drugged, but I learned later I’d been in and out of consciousness most of that day. The next thing I knew I woke up in a hospital and had already had the first surgery to repair my leg. It was then I made it clear I wanted nothing that would take away the pain. The nurses thought I was nuts.”