“Thanks for coming,” Annalise said, leading the way through the door into a space with padded tables and cardio machines. Exercise balls, wooden benches in varying sizes, and even a small trampoline were neatly organized on the beige carpet. The dreaded bridge of steps was sequestered in the corner next to a stack of exercise mats. It was half gym, half daycare. “It’s important for family to be involved in recovery.”

“We’re just friends,” Aldo mumbled.

“Well, it always helps to have another pair of eyes and hands,” Silver Lining Annalise told him. She pointed to a pair of chairs next to a set of parallel bars. “Let me get these set to your height, and the doctor will be here shortly.”

God, he hated these bars. He’d fallen from them about a dozen times in Germany and once or twice at Walter Reed Medical Center, his arms too weak to hold his body weight. And when he wasn’t falling, he was sweating and swearing and hating his own weakness.

Harper was silent for once next to him, and the look on her face told him she was worried about him.

“Lieutenant.” A slim man in a white coat and thick-rimmed glasses approached with a clipboard and a half-drunk green smoothie. “I’m Dr. Steers. I’ve heard a lot about you.” The introductions were made while Aldo felt a surge of anxiety rush through his system. Part of the “healing” process apparently involved facing his own failings again and again and again. It would either break him, or he’d crawl through it half the man he’d been.

“Let’s get started, shall we? lieutenant, Walter Reed gave me your file, and you already have our staff impressed. To be where you are right now, barely a month from the injury, is almost superhuman.”

Superhuman, huh? That sounded more like the old Aldo. He hoped to God the doc wasn’t blowing smoke up his ass. This was the first scrap of hope he’d felt since… Dust. Red. Silence.

Since.

“He is pretty awesome, isn’t he?” Harper insisted.

“We can understand the lieutenant’s frustration with the pace of therapy, and we’ll do our best to write a program that challenges him at his level. We just need to make sure we’re not asking too much of your body while you’re still so early in the recovery process. Okay?”

Aldo nodded. He’d heard the bullshit before. Rest. Slow. Incremental progress. Blah blah blah. Never be who he used to be. That last one was part of his own internal monologue.

“So let’s get you up.” Dr. Steers pointed at the bars. “You know the drill.”

Aldo stood and handed his crutches to Annalise. He gripped the ends of the bars and walked, one foot in front of the other, moving one trembling muscle at a time, toward Dr. Steers who paced him backward on a wheeled stool.