Page 19 of Holding the Line
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Marsh had been sittingin the makeshift therapy room for all of five minutes and already wanted to punch a wall.
Not because the room was terrible—actually, it was the opposite.Ezra had insisted the infirmary be comfortable, warm, not the kind of place that screamed hospital.There were soft leather chairs, framed photos of landscapes and abstract art, even a wall of windows with a view of the trees that lined the eastern perimeter.The air smelled like clean pine and cinnamon tea.
It was everything Marsh hated about therapy.
Too nice.Too soft.Too quiet.
He shifted in his chair, adjusting the weight on his one good leg and glancing toward the door.Eli was late.Not by much, but enough that Marsh started to think maybe he wasn’t coming.That maybe yesterday’s clearing of the air and the deal that the two of them had struck had been a blip.That maybe he’d seen too much.
Or maybe Marsh had scared him off, just like he’d done with every other therapist Ezra had brought in.
He dragged a hand over his face and cursed softly.His palms were already sweaty, the collar of his t-shirt clinging to the back of his neck.His stump itched and ached where it met the socket of the prosthetic he still refused to wear for more than ten minutes at a time.
He was not in the mood for this shit.
Then the door opened.
Eli stepped in, bright-eyed and casual, like he hadn’t almost drowned the day before.Like Marsh hadn’t pulled him out of the pool and held him while he coughed and gasped and trembled.
“Morning,” Eli said cheerfully, shutting the door behind him and walking over to the chair across from Marsh.“You look like you want to bolt.”
“Not far,” Marsh muttered.“Just into traffic.The heavier the better.”
Eli chuckled.“Well, fortunately for both of us, the Ridge is too remote for a good dramatic traffic exit.”
He dropped into the chair, legs crossed, notebook resting on one thigh.He didn’t open it.Just watched Marsh with those eyes that missed nothing.
“So,” Eli said.“This is the part where I ask you how you feel about being here, and you tell me to go screw myself, and then we maybe talk about something real.”
Marsh scowled, but he couldn’t stop the flicker of amusement behind it.“You always this chipper when your clients hate you and therapy and everything that goes with it?”
“Only the hot ones.”
That earned him a grunt.Marsh looked away, jaw tight.
The silence stretched, but not uncomfortably.At least not, it seemed, for Eli, who still looked relaxed and calm, but for Marsh it grated a little.
Finally, Marsh said what had been on his mind for a while now.“You’re not like the others.”
Eli tilted his head.“The other therapists?”
Marsh nodded.“Yeah.The others who come in here thinking they’re gonna fix me with breathing exercises and inspirational quotes.”
Eli made a show of checking the pockets of his cargo pants.“Damn, I left my book of inspirational quotes in my other pants.”
Marsh huffed a laugh.Just a breath.But it was something, and for Marsh it felt genuine.His first genuine slice of amusement in months that didn’t have anything to do with the kids at the Ridge.
“I don’t want to talk about feelings,” he felt he had to say.He was not an emotional kinda guy
“Then let’s not.” Eli surprised him by saying.“Tell me about the lab.What are you working on?”
Marsh blinked.“You’re serious.”
Eli nodded.
Marsh hesitated, then shrugged.“Comms project.Real-time translation overlays for field work.Earbud tech with adaptive AI parsing for dialect and inflection.”