The Fundamental Theory of Us by Alyse Raines Read Free Book Online Page A

jump the distances he used to. He made jumps a high priority, and thankfully there were a couple creeks and felled trees he could practice with.
    Rosie stood behind him, ready for anything. She spotted a squirrel and followed it with her eyes. Her training meant she stuck by him, until he let her go. Andrew gave the command and Rosie hesitated a moment before shooting off into the trees. She might be his support dog, but Rosie was still a dog, and needed the chase-and-catch game like any other. Besides, he didn’t own her—they were equals. Friends.
    Andrew went to the beginning of the course and readjusted his prosthesis, checked his laces, and mentally prepared for the task ahead. He set a timer on his phone, strapped to his bicep, and held his thumb over the button as he got into position.
    Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Go.
    No hesitation. He shoved through the foliage, running his hardest to the first obstacle: a felled tree with a little dip of leaf-strewn ground underneath. His muscles protested. He hadn’t pushed himself this hard in months. Giving up wasn’t an option. He pushed on, dropping to his stomach to crawl under the tree, squeezing and pulling, until his feet cleared. Then he was up again, running to the first tree with a rope ladder. He climbed up, pulling his body higher. At the first branch, he hoisted up onto it and stood for a second, knees bent. Then he jumped down into the pile of leaves, the shock of hitting the ground jolting through his missing leg.
    Ignore it. Not real.
    He pushed on, hitting the first speed bag. The second. His lungs burned, a welcome sensation. Muscles worked, rusty at first, then remembered the way they used to push and strain, until a welcome heat filled his body. Another obstacle—this one a felled tree. He jumped over, fumbling a little, barely clearing the other side and landing the jump. Andrew swore but kept going. The last speed bag. His knuckles slipped and hit the tree.
    “Fuck.”
    He kept on pushing himself to the last obstacle, another tree and rope ladder, the climb made slippery from blood running down his knuckles. He took breaths he didn’t have to take. Forced his body over the final hurtle. One last jump, one last jarring shock to the bones, and he raced for the finish line. Rosie was there to greet him with an enthusiastic bark, her tail wagging. Bits of debris clung to her golden coat, her tongue hung out one side of her mouth. Her eyes were clear. He could swear she was smiling.
    Andrew dropped his hands on his knees and sucked in breath after breath, his throat on fire. He hadn’t pushed himself that hard in a while. The burn felt good. Reminded him that he was alive. A momentary pang knifed his chest. He pushed it back. Not your fault . Repeating his therapist’s assigned mantra helped—a little. The memory was always there.
    “Holy shit, dude.”
    Andrew lifted his head. Sweat dripped in his eyes. He blinked it away and saw a guy and a girl in high tech running gear watching him.
    “That was amazing,” the girl said, her eyes wide. She was blonde and pale, like Sawyer, but didn’t have the same effect on him. “We saw you from the start, and I thought ‘what’s he doing?’ Then you just … tore it up.”
    “Yeah,” the guy put in. “How’d you do that?”
    Andrew found his pack—he’d left it here, knowing he’d need some water when he finished and didn’t want to traipse all the way back to the start—and dug out a bottle of water. After downing half, he poured the rest in a small bowl for Rosie. She lapped it up greedily.
    “Marines.” Andrew swiped a hand across his brow and it came back wet.
    “Jesus, you’re bleeding.” The guy pulled a tissue from his pocket and handed it over.
    “Thanks.” Andrew nodded, wiped his brow and sure enough, it came back red.
    “I think it’s just your hand,” the blonde said.
    “Yeah, I hit the bag too hard.”
    The woman laughed and smiled at the guy. They shared a private