The Road Back From Broken

Chapter 1

Why is the light so goddamn loud?

Jacob Fitzgerald leaned against the doorway and squinted at the daylight streaming into the kitchen from the living room window.

What the fuck did I do last night?

Pain speared through his left shoulder when he reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes. Every muscle in his body was stiff and sore.

Then he remembered why.

His left hand was wrapped in a neoprene splint that ran from the middle of his forearm down to his knuckles and covered his entire thumb except for the pad and thumbnail. Wiggling his swollen fingers, snippets of the night before flickered vaguely in his mind. His body slamming forward. The loud crunch of twisting metal. The hood buckling and curling against the shattered windshield.

"Fuck."

Shielding his eyes from the sun with his splinted arm, he pushed himself away from the wall and saw his wife sitting at the kitchen table.

Jenn sat her mug down and looked up from the Denver Post as he stumbled toward the refrigerator.

"You're up early." He jerked the door open with a wince.

"It's quarter to eleven, Fitz."

He slammed the fridge door shut and turned around, clutching two bottles of water against his chest with his splinted hand. Ignoring her, he twisted the cap off one of the bottles then downed half its contents in three swallows before setting both bottles on the counter. He opened the cupboard and, after a moment of dazed searching, grabbed a bottle of Advil, thumbed it open, and shook out three tablets. Stuffing the pills in his mouth, he drained the rest of the water in two gulps and tossed the empty bottle into the sink.

Fitz searched the kitchen and the living room, his brows furrowed as he tried to discern what seemed off.

"Where's Ryan?" he asked.

Jenn rolled her eyes and watched as he tore a banana off the bunch and poured a cup of coffee. He walked slowly, grimacing in obvious discomfort before collapsing into his chair with an awkward fwump.

"Ryan's where he always is at ten o'clock on Saturday mornings."

Fitz's glassy eyes blinked back at her blankly.

"He's got a hockey game, Fitz. Brandon's mom swung by 'bout two hours ago so Ryan could fetch his gear."

His jaw clenched as he silently cursed himself.

Jenn read the confusion on his face but turned away before their eyes could meet. Just one look from him could charm a smile or a laugh from her and she wanted to stay angry. After what happened, she was entitled.

"You don't actually think I let him stay here alone last night while I was dealing with ..."

Jenn had sat at his bedside while the ER staff put a butterfly bandage over the cut on his brow and a temporary Neoprene splint on his broken wrist. She'd stared at the uninjured wrist that was handcuffed to the bed rail. Not that the cuffs were really necessary. He'd succumbed to his drunken haze and passed out a few minutes after arriving at the ER.

Fitz picked up his mug and stared into its dark steamy depths. He held the hot brew in his mouth for a second before swallowing, then took another sip.

"The Jeep is-?"

"Junkyard. Insurance company hasn't called back yet, but it's totaled." I hope you're happy, she thought, squeezing the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, hoping to hold off the headache she felt coming on. She knew from experience that readjusting after a deployment was never easy, but this was different. It was never supposed to be this hard.