He studied it carefully, noting the chafed edges, the misalignment in the fitting.“Your stump’s shrunk,” he said softly.
Marsh snorted.“Well, thanks for that boost of self-esteem.”
Eli rolled his eyes.“I mean the swelling’s gone down.Healing’s changed your shape.This prosthetic doesn’t fit anymore, not properly.It’s no wonder it’s hurting you.”
Marsh said nothing.
Eli straightened up.“Come with me.Let’s get you scanned for a new one.”
Marsh hesitated.“They never get it right.”
Eli looked him dead in the eye.“I will.”
It took some convincing.And a fair amount of side-eye.But by the end of the day, they’d 3D scanned his limb, consulted with a specialist from a hospital Eli often worked with for prosthetics for his clients, and began designing a new, high-tech prototype Marsh could modify himself.One that could integrate sensory feedback and adaptive joint response—his eyes had lit up when he realized how much control he could have.
That was the first time Eli had seen him smile without it being tempered by pain.
Now, standing in the morning light, Eli let that memory warm him.Let it hold back the worry that was growing within him.
He was falling.Fast.Stupidly fast.And that terrified him.It wasn’t just the gravity of it—it was the weight of knowing what came after the fall.He’d seen it in others, seen it in himself, the way pain could masquerade as passion, the way trauma could weave itself into the edges of something that felt like love until you couldn’t tell them apart.
He didn’t know if he could let himself fall for Marsh given how broken they both were.He knew the signs.He could spot trauma bonding a mile away in his clients—two fractured people clinging to each other not because it was right, but because it was familiar.Comfortable, even in the discomfort.Codependency dressed up as connection.
He told himself this was different.That what they had was something else.Something real.
But doubt lingered.Was it healthy?Was it fair—to either of them?
He didn’t know.
All he knew was that when Marsh looked at him, he felt seen.Not pitied.Not tolerated.Seen.And when Marsh smiled, really smiled, it was like something inside Eli settled.Something quieted.
And maybe ...maybe that was enough.
He drained the rest of his coffee and turned back to his proposal.
For now, there was work to do.
****
Marsh didn’t know whyhe’d agreed to go into town with Eli.
Actually, that was a lie.
It was because Eli had looked at him with that lopsided smile, eyes dancing like Marsh wasn’t the worst thing to happen to breakfast, and said, “Come on.We’ll do something normal.Groceries.Fresh air.I’ll push, you roll, we’ll argue about cereal.”
So here he was, in the tiny grocery store on the edge of Pinedale, Wyoming, while Eli navigated the narrow aisles with a cart and he his wheelchair like they were running a tactical op.They were halfway down the breakfast aisle when Eli came to an abrupt halt, holding up two cereal boxes.
“Okay, important question,” Eli said, holding up a box of Froot Loops in one hand and Raisin Bran in the other.“Colorful sugar or heart-healthy?”
Marsh snorted.“One looks like a clown threw up and the other tastes like cardboard had a sad affair with raisins.”
Eli gave him a mock gasp.“Blasphemy.Raisin Bran is a classic.”
“So is polio.Doesn’t mean we want to keep it around.”Marsh said dryly.
Eli laughed, placing both boxes in the cart.“Compromise.I’ll mix ‘em together.”
Marsh slammed his hand against his chest with a mock gasp.“You’re a monster.”
