After the Fall

simmered below the surface, burning itself deeper beneath my skin while my leg healed.
    And it still needed to heal a little, I reminded myself. The connective tissue was stiff and the muscles were atrophied, and I couldn’t ride if I couldn’t use my leg. Or my hand, for that matter. I needed to let my leg heal a bit more. I needed a little more time.
    I needed to get the fuck out of here.

    Standing on the ground floor of my apartment building, I stared at the steps for a moment, psyching myself up. No crutch this time. No cast.
    I’ve got this.
    I took a deep breath and started upward. It was a slow process, my muscles getting exhausted after a few steps, but eventually, I made it to the top on my own.
    When I cleared the top step, the sense of triumph was short-lived. I caught myself searching for the person who’d helped me to the top, and though Ryan hadn’t been the only one to help me—hadn’t been there at all in the last week—I half expected to see him standing there.
    This was so weird. It wasn’t like I was incapable of being alone. I wasn’t solitary by nature, but I liked having some time to myself. I liked driving around alone. I didn’t need to have someone with me all the time.
    But Ryan’s absence was so conspicuous, I couldn’t avoid it. I couldn’t get used to it the way I had the casts I’d finally gotten rid of. Those had been annoyances whenever they’d gotten in my way, but I could forget about them from time to time when I wasn’t trying to move around.
    Ryan’s absence was more like a paper cut. Constantly there. Constantly stinging so I couldn’t ever be unaware of it.
    I blew out a breath and shook my head.
    I’d recovered from the broken leg and the broken hand, and I’d recover from this. Just because the wound was still fresh and still hurt didn’t mean it wouldn’t heal.
    As I let myself into the apartment, Brad looked up from the recliner where he sat.
    “Hey, hey!” He clicked off the TV and grinned broadly at me. “Not the bionic man anymore, eh?”
    “Bionic, my ass,” I grumbled. “I couldn’t move for shit.”
    “I think that’s the idea of a cast. You know, gives the bones a chance to heal before your dumb ass gets hurt again?”
    “True. But still.”
    “Well, glad to see you up and around now.”
    “Thanks.”
    He smiled, but then turned serious. “So, um, thought I should mention this sooner than later, but I’m probably going to be getting my own place pretty soon. Since I’ll be on my own for a while, I figured I should give you your space back.”
    My heart sank. “You and Jeff decided to call it quits?”
    “Well, not exactly.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “We’re going to start over. From the beginning. Start dating each other again, and see if we can work our way back to what it was before. You know, without fucking it up again.”
    “Good. Good to hear.” I forced a smile. “I hope you guys can get back on your feet.”
    “Me too. Scared the hell out of me there for a while. I thought things were going to fall apart completely.”
    “Yeah, I was worried about you guys.”
    “Well, we’re not out of the woods yet, but . . . I feel a lot better now that we’re trying again.”
    “I can imagine.”
    “Guess we’ll see how it goes.” He gestured at the kitchen. “I was going to make some chicken tonight. You want any?”
    “Sure, I could eat.”
    As we ate in front of the TV, I couldn’t follow the show. My mind kept wandering back to the barn, and to the empty, unsettling feeling that had followed me around since then. Truth be told, I’d been a space case ever since Ryan had left for the last time, but I’d convinced myself it was the same shit that had been distracting me for the last twelve weeks: trying to go about my business with heavy blocks of plaster impeding even the simplest tasks.
    But those blocks were gone now.
    And so was Ryan.
    Brad waved a hand in front of my face. “Hey. You all right?”
    I sighed. “I don’t think so.”
    He sat beside me on the couch. “What’s wrong?”
    “Ryan.” I took a deep breath, suddenly struggling to keep my composure. “I can’t stop thinking about him.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “I can’t sleep. I can’t think at work. Today I barely remembered how to drive. I’m . . . I’m a fucking mess.”
    “Think maybe that’s because calling it quits was a mistake?”
    I shook my head. “No. If it’s this bad now, think how bad it would be when he