FOUR YEARS LATER
The blistering desert sun beat down on Scott’s skin. For eighteen months, he’d been in this hellhole—his second tour in Afghanistan. He longed for home but knew once he got there, the desert would only beckon him back again—the dark, sick, seductive mistress it was.
He had been out in the field for days, filthy, dusty and so used to his own stench he couldn’t even smell himself anymore. He was nearly too tired to drag himself into the shower. Sleep would be good. But not before a quick stop to check his email. He was in desperate need of contact from the outside world, some bit of good news, something reminding him of home.
Scott sat in the small communications trailer, booted up the computer, and waited for the page to load, his tired eyes blinking to stay awake. He admittedly was looking for an email from her.
Scott tried not to get too hung up on Tori, but that girl had a hold on him he couldn’t shake. He refused to try and have a long-distance relationship. In his line of work, it only brought heartache, and Tori’d made it clear she was not the type of girl that would sit and wait around for him. Thankfully, she’d remained single through the years. She always cleared her schedule for a good fuck between deployments.
He’d last heard from her six months ago, when she was busy finishing her senior year, gearing up for graduation and applying to graduate school.
He’d shot her an email a few days ago, letting her know his tour was almost up. He and his cock were hoping her schedule was free. He needed to get laid, whacking off in the shitter wasn’t cutting it anymore.
As luck would have it, she wrote back.
Scott,
Glad to hear you will be home soon. Seems I’m missing something of mine that you have. My bottom is quite cold without them.
XOXO,
Tori
Her and those panties. Every. Goddamn. Time.
Attached to the email was a photo of her naked ass. There was a new addition of red lips tattooed with the words “kiss it” scrolled above it that made him laugh out loud. It was new ink, but it was definitely her, and that was definitely something she would say. He’d know that perky ass anywhere.
Scott shut down the computer and headed back outside into the blistering heat. He squinted his eyes and pulled his sunglasses down, placed a cigarette between his lips, and lit it. God, I need to quit this shit. He took a long drag and watched as the men jumped back into the Humvee and hollered for him.
“Harris! SP in fifteen minutes. Let’s go!” Jones yelled from the HMMWV.
So much for sleep.
“Shit.” Scott dropped his cigarette on the ground, stomped it out, and trotted over to the vehicle.
It was like being underwater. Scott could hear muffled voices but couldn’t make out any of the words. In the forefront of all that was a deafening ringing.
He slowly opened his eyes and blinked. The light in the room was so bright it was like daggers piercing his skull. He immediately closed them tight in hopes to shut out the pain. Sounds slowly became more distinct, and he could make out commotion in the room.
“Close the blinds!” came a southern, female cry in a hurried panic.
Mom?
“Scott?” The soothing voice sounded so far away, as if shouting through a tunnel. A light hand touched his arm. “Scott?” The words grew clearer as he willed his eyes to open, slowly this time. A flash of red poked through the haze. Red hair? Mom?
A few more blinks and his vision focused. He saw his mother standing over him, calling his name again and again. Her green eyes were clouded with tears, and a strained smile stretched her face. Scott tried to speak and gagged. Something was blocking his throat. His eyes widened, and he groped to yank out whatever it was choking him.
His father’s large frame pressed him down to the bed. “You have a breathing tube in. You can’t pull it out son. You’re going to be ok.” His dad’s reassuring, dark gaze the only thing that could calm him. His dad, Wayne, flashed him an admiring grin. He patted Scott’s shoulder and crossed his arms, puffing out his large chest. “Still have the fight in you, I see. That’s my boy.” He nodded to his mother.
What the hell happened? His body tingled, struggling to catch up to his jumbled brain. He gathered he was injured and in the hospital as his eyes darted the room.
His mother sat on the bed and stroked his head. “You’re in the Naval Medical Center. Been here for two days.” His parents went on to explain he’d been moved from the field to Germany, then to Maryland once his internal injuries had stabilized. His brow furrowed. How long was he out? How could he not remember?
Scott motioned with his hand for something to write with.
“I’ll go get a pad and pen,” the nurse said then darted out of the room.
“You’ve been unconscious, Scotty,” Wayne explained.
He searched his thoughts, trying to bring to the front of his mind the last thing he could remember. As the fog lifted, the pain hit, and he longed for the numbness to come back.
His dad continued to speak, but his ears just rang as flashes of memories played like a movie reel in his head. The firefight, followed by the blast that catapulted him, looking over and seeing Jones’s face burnt to a crisp, missing the lower half of his body, his insides hanging on the outside. Blinding, hot rage coursed through his veins seeing his brother blown to pieces. Scott stood, limping across the sand, struggling for air, he shouldered his weapon. Boom! boom! boom! Three insurgents fell one right after another.
He remembered the world closing in on him. The loud, whirling blades of the chopper, voices, and the burning pain in his lungs as he gasped for air. Get a fucking tourniquet on that god damn leg so he doesn’t bleed out…fucking stay with us, Harris! The medic had yelled and slapped his face right before he lost consciousness.
“Scott, did you hear me?” His dad touched his shoulder.
His eyes were drawn like a magnet toward the foot of the bed. Under the stark, white sheet lay one mound instead of two.
Well fuck.
The doctor stood over his bed as Scott tried to wrap his brain around everything they were telling him in his doped-up state. For the past three weeks, they’d been moving him around like he was some pod person from a sci-fi movie. He was completely unaware of his travels—unconscious, sedated, and intubated from Afghanistan, to Germany, to Delaware, and finally, to Bethesda.
They’d tried to save the leg, but once he got to the Naval Hospital, they decided to take it once the infection had spread to his bloodstream.
“You wouldn’t have got much use of it anyway, and probably would’ve opted to amputate down the road for your own sanity,” his doctor explained. “Also, your lungs took a nasty beating.”
The doctor pulled back the sheets, exposing what was left of Scott’s leg. Scott cringed and grew dizzy at the sight. That’s gonna take some time to get used to. His stomach lurched, and he fought the urge to vomit. His mother darted her eyes out the window to avoid having the tears start flowing again.
“Mom, stoooppp…” Scott groaned hoarsely. His throat hurt like hell, but he was glad the damn tube was out, and he could speak. “You made the right call. I’ll be walking on a peg in no time.” He gave her a lopsided grin of reassurance. “Right, Doc?”
The doctor nodded. Scott knew he was damn lucky this was not done in the field, otherwise, a prosthetic may have not been an option.
“What about my hearing?” Scott asked, pointing to his left ear. He couldn’t hear anything out of it, and the ringing in his head was driving him crazy.
“Most perforations heal, but only time will tell.”
“When can I get out of bed?” Translation, when can I wheel my ass downstairs for a smoke? Because I’m dying.
The doctor laughed and Scott’s father gave a proud smile. “That damn grit of yours, Son…just be patient.” Wayne patted Scott on the shoulder.
“We’re still monitoring the effects of the infection in your bloodstream and your lung injury, but I think you’re out of the woods now. You have a road to recovery ahead of you, but you’re one of the lucky ones.”
Scott jerked the sheet back over his leg. The muscles in his neck tensed, and his chest grew tight as the weight of those words set in. The image of Jones flashed in his head—his friend, his brother, gone.
“Three…two…one…drink.” Keith hollered as Tori downed the shot of tequila and let out a breath as it burned her chest. They were in full celebration mode. Her acceptance letter from Georgetown grad school came today, and in the fall, she would be starting her M.A. degree program in Art and Museum studies.
Tori smiled at Keith as he flashed her a grin. “Now only to land that internship at the Smithsonian.”
Keith waived his hand flippantly. “Honey, I’ve put in the word for you. You’ll be fine. Now shut up about work, down that drink, and start scouting for hot men for us to dance with.”
“You got it.” Tori nodded at him, scanning the bar. A guy in drag sang show tunes on the stage as she peered over her options. She locked eyes on a tall, attractive male in a sport coat. His dark locks were well styled and peppered with grey around the temples. “What about him?” Tori pointed.
“Ugh.” Keith made a vomit noise, and his freckled nose wrinkled. “Too scholarly and too old. Look at the elbow patches on the coat. I don’t want to sip brandy and smoke cigars in bathrobes. What is it with you and older men?”
Tori let out a breath and kept scanning the crowd. Her eyes stopped on a muscular, hottie with sandy-haired locks flowing to his waist. “Him. The waiter.” She pointed toward the table a few rows over.
“You mean Tarzan?” Keith sighed. “It’s like you don’t know me at all, Vicky.”
Keith was the only one she’d ever let get away calling her Vicky. She typically went by Victoria, and he’d shortened it to Vicky the night they met, and it stuck. Victoria or Tori she allowed, but never Vicky, except for Keith.
“What’s wrong with him?” she protested. “He’s hot if you ask me.” If they weren’t in a gay bar, Tori may have done some flirting with him herself. It was going to be a dry night for her tonight, she realized as she peered over the sea of attractive, young men.
“Too muscular for my taste.” Keith snarled and stuck out his tongue. “I prefer a runner’s body and a nice, tailored suit.”
Shauna came in a few moments later and slumped into their booth. She was still wearing her work scrubs. “What about a suit?” She looked to Keith.
“Vicky is trying to pick me out a date for the night. Maybe you can be a better wingman than her, but I doubt you’ll be much help wearing that.” His pointed nose curled, looking at her scrubs.
“Shut it, asshole. I worked a double.” She let out a huge sigh and ruffled her auburn hair. “Been on my feet all day long in surgeries, then fought an hour of traffic. I’m beat.”
Shauna was a scrub nurse at the Naval hospital in Bethesda. She and Tori met her freshman year at Georgetown as roommates. She’d finished her bachelor’s a year early and had recently landed the job.
“Anything gory and interesting today?” Keith asked, sipping his martini. Shauna always shared some of the grossest medical stories with them.
“Actually, it was great. Had my first time assisting on an amputation.” She grinned as if she’d hit the jackpot in the lottery.
Tori cringed. “Gross.” She took a sip of her drink. “I don’t know how you find enjoyment in that kind of stuff.”
Shauna rolled her tongue across her top lip. “Because even on the bad days, there are days when I get to give sponge baths to hunky, muscular Navy men.”
“Well, I guess that evens it out,” Keith agreed. “Speaking of hunky, muscular Navy men, Vicky, I thought you said your fuck buddy, Scott, was coming back to town to screw your brains out?” His blue eyes sparkled mischievously.
Tori took a sip of her drink and shrugged. “I haven’t heard from him since his email a month ago. He knows the drill. He comes to me. I don’t chase after him.”
“You and your silly games.” Keith paused for a moment. “Do you think he’s ok?” Keith asked. “I mean, he’s in a goddamned war zone, right? God, I hope he’s not dead. That would be awful. Your pussy would be so disappointed.”
“Ha ha. Very funny.” Tori sighed and rolled her eyes, covering her unease. I already lost one man in my life. I don’t want to think about losing another. Her father’s death had been the most difficult thing she’d ever gone through. That’s why Tori and Scott were better as friends who occasionally fucked. His job was far too risky to ever entertain more.
Shauna cocked her head to the side. “Afghanistan?”
Tori nodded. “Yeah, Middle East somewhere. He never gave me too many details.” Tori took another sip of her drink. “So how about another shot?” Tori raised her arm, trying to flag down the waiter. She didn’t want to think about Scott now. Also, she wanted to shut Keith up before he started getting political. Tori despised talking about politics.
“Was Scott the tall, muscular, dark-haired beast you banged freshman year, or the thicker, short, blond wrestler?” Shauna asked. “Or was he the sandy-haired boy with the emerald eyes?”
Keith coughed out the words, “Vicky is a ho.”
Tori brushed off Keith’s comment. “I’m surprised you don’t remember him after how much you drooled over him.” Tori giggled, recalling how Shauna reacted the one night she’d caught a glimpse of them fucking in Tori’s room.
“It’s difficult to keep track of all your men.” Shauna shook her head as the bartender came over. They ordered more shots and another round of drinks. Thankfully, the dude singing the horrible rendition of Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” finished up, and they all gave their sympathy claps.
“Tall, muscular, dark-haired, with the deep brown, brooding eyes.” Tori grinned sheepishly. “Come on, you walked in on us one night doing it. You were all pissed when we flung everything off your desk.”
Tori looked at Shauna, who was biting her nail. Shauna sucked in a breath to speak, then released it.
“What?” Tori curled her nose.
Shauna shook her head. “Nothing. Just curious.” Obviously, a lie.
Tori’s brow raised. “What?” she growled.
“Is his last name Harris?” Shawna’s blue eyes narrowed.
All the air left Tori’s lungs and she sat there, blinking. Finally, she swallowed the lump in her throat and muttered, “Y-yes.”
Shauna didn’t need to say anything to Tori, because Shauna’s morose expression showed it all.
“How bad?” Tori looked down at her drink, tracing the rim of her empty glass with her fingertip.
She braced herself. Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.
“He’ll make it.”
“That’s it?” Tori’s head snapped up.
“I’ve already said too much,” she croaked.
“Really?” Tori shot her a look that said you have to be kidding me. “You’re the one who kept asking me the questions. You could’ve kept your damn mouth shut.”
“Vicky’s right. You have to spill it now,” Keith chimed in.
“Dammit. Ok,” Shauna relented. “You didn’t hear this from me. It’s against HIPAA regulations for me to say anything. Seriously, I could get fired and lose my license.”
Keith made a zipping motion across his lips and glanced to Tori, who nodded in agreement.
Shauna looked around then leaned in closer to them. “From what I know, he was hit by an explosion several weeks ago and had a lot of blast injuries. Was sent to us yesterday.”
“What type of blast injuries?” Tori’s stomach twisted as horrifying images of IED explosions flashed through her mind.
“Ruptured eardrum, pulmonary contusion—”
“Pulmonary what?” Tori rolled her eyes and slapped her hand on the table. “English, please.”
“Lung,” Shawna snapped. “God. Let me finish! Fractured ribs and such caused lung issues. He wasn’t breathing well, and they put him on a ventilator.” Shawna took a breath. “When he got to us, he was unconscious and fighting an infection that was spreading too quick from a nasty leg wound. Our only choice was to amputate.”
“So that was your procedure today?” Keith shrieked. “Holy shit. You cut off Vic’s lover’s leg?”
“Not the whole leg, just below the knee,” Shauna said, as if that made it so much better.
Keith and Shauna stared at Tori, who was donning her best poker face. “God dammit. Where’s the waiter with our drinks?” Tori darted her eyes across the room.
“Vicky?” Keith reached for her hand. “You ok?”
Tori shook off his hand and smiled sweetly as the server came over. “I’m fine.” The waiter placed the drinks on the table, and Tori passed out the shots to everyone. He was alive. That’s all that mattered. “He’s fine. I’m fine.” Tori raised her glass, and they looked at her with questionable expressions.
Tori let out a grunt and placed her shot glass down, rolling her eyes. They were still sitting there, flabbergasted at her response. “His cock still works, right?” She flashed a roguish grin.
Keith snickered a bit as Shauna gave a slow, slight nod. “I presume so.” Shauna’s mouth hung open like a goldfish.
“Well, I fucked him with two legs. I’ll fuck him with one.” Tori laughed a little too loud and picked up her shot. “To Scott.”
Shauna and Keith exchanged a side-eye then lifted their glasses. “To Scott.”
“My favorite little, hot, redheaded nurse.” Scott grinned at Shauna as she came into his room. “Please tell me you’re getting me outside today.” Scott was going stir-crazy being cooped up in the room.
“You with your impish grin, always flirting with me. You know I can’t date a patient, so you need to stop, mister.” She gave him a sweet smile. “Your lab work looks good. Infection is gone, oxygen levels are steadily increasing.”
“All right, then get me up. Throw my ass in a wheelchair and let me go to the gym.” This whole bed-to-the-bathroom-back-to-the-bed-in-the-walker was getting mundane. He needed to do more, even if it zapped his energy. He pulled the oxygen tube out of his nose, pushed his arms up underneath him, and shifted his weight, sitting up more, which caused him to wheeze and cough.
She placed her hand on his shoulder. “You’re crazy. I said your levels are increasing. You still have a while before you’re off it.” She folded her clipboard to her chest. She placed the oxygen tube back in his nose and fiddled with the machines around his bed.
“Come on, pull some strings. I’ll make it worth your while.” He flashed her a wolfish grin that usually got him what he wanted with women.
“You’re too much. Let me see what I can find out.” Shauna turned to leave.
Scott watched as she walked away, admiring her curves. He noticed the shape of her thong underneath her scrubs, which he appreciated. The door shut, and he turned to the TV.
Several moments later, Shauna came back in with the doctor. “I hear you’re bribing my nursing staff with sexual favors, trying to get out of this bed.” The doctor glanced at Shauna and back to Scott.
Scott gave a cocky smile. “Come on, Shauna, that was supposed to be our little secret.” Scott held his arms up and feigned innocence.
“How’s your pain?” the doctor asked.
“Manageable,” Scott said with a fixed expression that didn’t let them know how much he was hurting. He tried to keep the medication to a minimum because he didn’t like being doped up—it dulled his senses too much—but last night, he’d hit the pump several times.
“And your sleeping?” His doctor raised a questionable brow as if he wasn’t buying the bullshit Scott was feeding him.
The nerve pain had been an absolute bitch, especially at night. His body was still sending signals to the brain that the foot was there, and it was like hot pokers to his nerves. The nightmares also didn’t give him much rest. “More sleep here than in the field, I suppose.” Not a lie.
The doctor turned to Shauna. “Has psych been in to see him?”
Scott groaned as Shauna nodded. PTSD was a huge concern. “They’ve been in a few times,” she said.
The last thing Scott wanted to do right now was talk about what he’d experienced with the military head shrinks. He would carry the burden of that day the rest of his life. It’s not something he wanted to let go of. Jones was dead, he had a wife and a child on the way, and Scott couldn’t save him. It should have been me.
“Well, I can’t have you going around here flirting with the entire staff. Better get you busy before you start making trouble.” He uncrossed his arms and pulled the blanket off Scott. “Let’s unwrap the leg, at least, continue to wean you off the oxygen. PT can come in with a chair later and let you get some sunshine, but I don’t want you trying the walker outside this room, understood?”
“Understood.” Scott nodded.
After some time, Shawna and the doctor got down to the last layer of the dressing. Scott stared at the wall until she was done. The doctor touched what was left of his leg, and it was unsettling. “You’re healing well. Still a lot of swelling, which is normal.”
Scott knew he’d have to look at his naked leg eventually, so he bit the bullet, turning his head downward. His stomach tightened, and he dizzied at the sight, feeling detached from his own body. That can’t be me. I can still feel my toes. They felt curled and balled up; he had the urge to move and stretch them, but all that was there was a fat, ugly stump with a nasty drain tube coming out of it.
His throat grew tight. Don’t be a pussy. Keep it together.
“It looks bad now, but the swelling will go down,” Shauna reassured him.
He cleared his throat, composing himself, trying not to think about the fact that his military career, everything he worked for his entire life was over, and one more of his brothers was now dead. “How long until I can get a peg?”
“Case-by-case basis. Shauna will place it under compression to bring the swelling down. Once the stump is shrunk enough, you will get a temporary prosthetic. It’ll be several months before your residual leg will shrink enough for a permanent one.” He patted him on the shoulder. “You’re healing well. I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow.” He left the room.
Shauna pulled over a cart and started wrapping him back up. “So, you haven’t had many visitors. Did your folks leave?” Her blue eyes looked up at him from behind her auburn bangs, curiously.
“Yeah, they went ahead and headed back home to Austin.” Scott felt her questionable look needed explanation. “They have a ranch there. They needed to get back to the livestock.” His parents didn’t abandon him. They stuck around for the first two weeks, but Scott finally insisted they leave.
“Texas. Southern boy? You don’t have much of an accent.”
“We moved around a lot. Military family. Didn’t settle in Texas until I was a teenager.”
“Followed in your father’s footsteps?”
“It’s was in my blood, I suppose.” He shrugged.
“Siblings?”
“Older brother and sister. They chose a different path.” He was the only sibling that opted for a military career. His older brother and sister had been rebellious, causing his parents to nearly pull their hair out. Scott tended to stay on the straight and narrow path. His sister finally married and settled down, but his brother was still a mess, unable to hold a steady job for too long, in and out of rehab.
“No girlfriend, I assume from the way you enjoy flirting with the nursing staff,” she teased.
“Nah,” was all he offered.
“I’m surprised a good-looking guy like you hasn’t been snagged up yet.”
“Relationships in my job bring complications. I prefer to keep things casual.”
Shauna made a slight smirk. “You sound like my artsy roommate from college. She’s a hot-blooded, bleached blonde mess. Relationships are too complicated, she says, fucking is so much more fun.” Shauna gestured a flippant hand wave and raised brow.
The way she said that eerily reminded him of Tori, who’d muttered those words to him a thousand times. Shauna looked Scott square in the eye.
“You seem familiar,” his eyes narrowed. “Have we met before?”
Her mouth quirked up. “Possibly.” She finished and placed a rigid compression dressing on the stump. “This will be tight but it’ll keep your knee from flexing.” She cleaned and re-bandaged the other wounds from shrapnel on his upper thigh and hip, cleaned the smaller cuts on his face, gathered her cart to leave. “I’ll be back to check on you in a few hours, before shift change.”
“Shauna, where did you go to college at, out of curiosity?” Scott cocked his head to the side.
She stopped, turned, and her lips curled into a knowing grin. “Georgetown.”
He raised his brow and scratched the thick hair growing on his face. His suspicion of where he knew Shawna from was growing clearer. A memory flashed in his head of him fucking Tori on a desk in her dorm as a redhead came into the room, yelled at them, then stormed out.
“You know, it’s not good to be all alone in here. If you like, I can add some friends to your visitation list.” She smiled sweetly and walked out the door.
Scott was lonesome; he chewed on that for a moment. He rolled his tray over and grabbed his phone, staring at it. He didn’t want to look needy, but the thought of Tori curled next to him brought comfort. He didn’t need her, and she damn well never seemed to need him. She was not his girlfriend—she made that abundantly clear—but the two of them had a lot of fun and unbelievable sexual chemistry. Tori, underneath her tough facade and behind the walls she’d built, was all heart. What if they could be more? He’d thought about that a lot, but it would be like taming a wild beast, at best.
But hell, I can at least have fun trying.
Scott picked up the phone and dialed Tori.
Tori’s heart pounded nervously as she walked down the hall toward Scott’s room. She may have gone home from the bar a week ago and cried herself to sleep worrying about him. She may have lied to Keith when he’d walked in that night and caught her sobbing. She may have spent the last week checking her phone every five minutes. She may have texted Shauna and asked her to drop some hints to Scott.
She quietly cracked open the door to his room. The blinds were drawn shut, and he lay sleeping in the darkened room. She shut the door gently behind her. It had been almost two years since she’d laid eyes on him. She crept closer to the bed, glancing him over. Slightly leaner, but still in impeccable shape. His facial hair was thick and unkempt, framed by a tube giving him oxygen.
He had some bruising and stitched cuts, but it didn’t detract from his looks at all, and she ashamedly thanked God the explosion spared his beautiful face; many of the men she’d passed in the hall were not as fortunate. She could see under the loose sheet where the mound of his left leg stopped and was missing.
An IV bag was hooked to his arm, which donned a new tattoo of what looked like a Spartan with some lettering on his forearm extending below the tribal on his bicep she was familiar with. She lightly touched his fingertips, leaned closer, squinting in the dark room to make out the words. It looked like Latin or Greek, but she wasn’t sure.
His hand gripped her wrist, yanking her down. Tori gasped, and her eyes bulged. He studied her for a moment. Gradually, his dark, cold expression disappeared, his grip loosened, and those soulful brown eyes softened. Her unease faded as a slight smile crept across his face.
They locked eyes, neither of them saying a word, barely breathing. He pulled her in close by the back of her neck and kissed her sweetly. Familiarity washed over her as his lips touched hers, and a soft moan escaped her mouth.
“Hey, you,” Scott said, his voice hoarse. He had the sultriest look in his eyes, slightly tainted with the weight of all he’d endured. He kissed her gently once more and caressed her cheek.
“Hey, Sailor.” She pulled back and studied him.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” His eyes raked her up and down. “You cut off your hair?” He tugged a strand of her blonde waves between his fingertips.
She tucked it behind her ear and fiddled with her earrings. Her mouth quirked up as her eyes darted to the mound under the sheet. “You cut off your leg.”
His face broke into a wide grin, and he laughed loudly, which made him cough and wheeze. “Touché.”
Tori loved the way his eyes creased in the corners when he was amused. He carried a perpetually pissed off look that some would be intimidated by, but it was that impish grin that brought out the playful Scott, the Scott she’d met that night in the bar. God, he looks good.
“Sorry I startled you, was checking out the new ink.” She nodded to his arm. “I like it. It’s sexy,” she added with a playful wink. “Although I have no idea what it says.”
“Molṑn Labé,” Scott replied. “It means ‘come and take them’,” he explained further. “Legend is that Xerxes, king of Persia, demanded the Spartans surrender their weapons, and King Leonidas responded with this phrase.”
“Defiant.” Tori wrinkled her nose. “I like it.”
He chuckled. “Speaking of ink, I noticed from your photo you had some yourself.”
“Yeah.” She turned and lifted her little blue casual dress, exposing a purple, lacy thong with the red lips on her right cheek at the hip. “Got this and another one I like even more.” She traced the lines of her tattoo.
“Another?” His brow arched. “I’m not sure what can top saying kiss my ass.”
She smiled. “You’ll see it sooner or later,” she said coyly. “When you’re up to it.”
“Now you have me intrigued.”
“Good.” She grinned.
Tori pulled up a chair and sat next to his bed, kicking her feet up on the side lazily. She folded her arms across her chest, heaving a big sigh. He looked down at her sandaled feet, fiddled with her toe rings, and traced his fingers over the feathered tattoo wrapping her ankle.
“So how have you been?” He rubbed her calf with his rough hand.
“Better than you, I presume,” she said kindly with a long breath. “I’ve been good. Got into grad school at Georgetown next fall. Getting ready to move in with my friend Keith after graduation. He’s got a kicking job at the Smithsonian and has a small place in Georgetown. He’s renting me his spare room. I’m hoping he can put in a good word. My degree requires an internship at a museum next summer, right after I finish spring semester, either in London or New York.”
“Look at you, all grown up, going legit. I had no idea you had it in your bohemian blood. I’m impressed.”
“You should be. I’m kinda a big deal.” She made a silly face, crinkling her nose.
“So, who’s this Keith dude you’re moving in with?” His brow wrinkled.
Tori tilted her head to the side, and a calm smile fell over her face. “Is someone jealous?” She let out a huge laugh as Scott rolled his eyes. “Keith is as gay as a row of pink tents.”
Scott laughed loudly, which made him cough again.
“Hungry?” she asked.
“Very. Food here sucks.”
“I figured.” She bent over and grabbed her suede purse with the fringes on it, digging through it.
“Fringes?” he teased her about her purse, as he did about most of her clothing all the time. “You’re such a freaking hippie, Tori.”
“And you’re a wounded vet. Look how stereotypical 1960s we are.” She stuck her tongue out at him.
“Sneak in any cigarettes in there?” He nodded to her purse.
“You know I don’t smoke,” she smirked and added, “not cigarettes, at least. That shit will kill you.”
“So will explosions, but I’m still here.” He raised his palms.
She pursed her lips into a displeased scowl. From the sound of his lungs, the last thing he needed was a cigarette. She pulled out a large bag of chips. “Brought you some non-hospital food, Lieutenant Dan.” She tossed him the bag.
“Haha. Very funny.” Scott caught the bag. “Funyans. Fancy.” He opened the bag and popped one into his mouth.
“Oh, don’t act like they aren’t your favorite. I remember.”
“That you did.” He grinned smugly. “Burgers are also my favorite.”
“Hey! I’m a poor, starving artist living off my meager earnings from selling my paintings.” She leaned over and grabbed a chip from the bag and tossed it into her mouth. “That bag of chips was the last few dollars in my wallet”—she crunched on the chip—“and out of the goodness of my heart, I spent it on you. I probably won’t eat the rest of the week now.” She licked her fingers clean.
“Well, I guess I better share. I can’t have you starving all week. Get over here, beautiful.” He patted the mattress next to him.
She uncrossed her legs off the bed and stood. He put down the bag of chips, pushed his bottom up, and shifted over on the bed, making room for her. She noticed his face wince in pain as he made the maneuver. She sat gently and tried to lean back as carefully as she could, but she accidentally sat on his oxygen tube, which caused it to pull, yanking his head downward.
“Oh, my God. I’m sorry!” She sat up quickly, turning and looking at him.
“It’s fine.” He smiled and laughed as he took it, wrapped it around her chest, and put it back on.
She cringed, feeling like a dumbass.
“It’s ok,” he urged. He pulled her in close and she rested her head on his chest.
They lay there for a long time, not saying much, just watching some reruns of Friends on TV. She was better than a warm blanket wrapped in his arms or any therapist they could bring in. Her hand drifted to his upper left thigh. She didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it, even though he was. He moved her hand higher to his chest.
“Am I hurting you?” she asked.
“Nah, it’s just…”
“Oh, stop it, it doesn’t bother me, Scott.” She moved her hand back. He grunted but didn’t protest.
He shifted uncomfortably. God, not now.
“I am hurting you, you liar.” Tori sat up and looked at him.
He squirmed. “Nah, that’s not it. I…” I need to piss like a damn racehorse.
“What?” She cocked her head to the side.
“I need to piss.” He winced.
“Well then piss.” She hopped off the bed.
He frowned. “It’s just kind of a chore. I’ll call the nurse.”
He had to remove the oxygen to get to the bathroom, which caused him to breathe heavier, and he’d get dizzy. They didn’t like him making the trek on the walker by himself in case he was to pass out. His ego didn’t want her to see him in such a weakened state.
“What, you don’t want me helping you or something?” Her brow tightened.
He looked down, not meeting her gaze.
“If I can bend over and let you pound my ass, I’m pretty sure you can let me help you piss, Scott.” She crossed her arms.
He let out a breath, threw out his man card, and sat up, yanking off his covers. “Grab the walker.” He nodded toward it, and he pulled the tube out of his nose and tossed it on the pillow.
She placed the walker next to the bed as he swung himself over the edge and, placing his hands on the sides, he hoisted himself up. “Just stand behind me. My breath gets short, and I sometimes get dizzy.”
“So, catch you if you start to go down?” Tori asked.
“Yeah, and don’t forget the IV.” His brow furrowed into a questionable stare as he looked at her small frame. This was a stupid idea. She could never support his weight.
“I’m stronger than I look,” she assured him.
His forehead went into a deep crease. Scott easily weighed double what she did. Tori had about five inches more height than his GI Jane physical therapist, Nicole, but not near the muscle.
She rounded behind him as he inched the walker forward slowly, one swing of his leg at a time.
“I like your outfit.” Tori snickered as she pulled open the back of the gown. A draft hit his bare cheeks. “Shows off one of your best assets.” She copped a feel.
He shook his head and smiled, finally making it to the bathroom. He was sweaty and out of breath. God, his lungs were fucked. He gripped to the railing, and Tori grabbed him under the arms. He stood there for several minutes. Nothing came out.
“I don’t hear anything,” she said. “You got stage fright?”
“Yes.” He chuckled.
Tori reached over and turned on the water to the sink and hummed. Finally, the stream of urine flowed.
She got him back into the bed and tucked his covers around him. “See, was that so bad?”
If you call totally humiliating and emasculating not bad, sure.
He put his oxygen back in and sucked in a breath, coughing, unable to catch his air. She grabbed her purse. “You leaving?” He frowned.
She gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “I’m gonna let you rest.”
Getting in and out of the bed zapped every ounce of his energy, but he didn’t want her to go. He tugged on the back of her neck, pulling her close for one more kiss. His tongue slid between her luscious lips.
She rubbed her fingers gently over the stitched cuts on his face.
“Those are gonna leave a mark.” He chuckled wryly.
“Scars are sexy.” Her mouth wrinkled into a slight smile. Lord, if her blue eyes weren’t the warmest thing he’d ever seen…
“Not all of them are.” He glanced at his stump under the sheet and rolled his eyes.
“Says who?” She furrowed her brow. “Society? Fuck ‘em. Own that shit.” She nodded to the sheet. “You, Scott Harris, can make anything sexy.” She kissed him again.
His heart warmed. God, she’s incredible. He’d watched other women in here run away after seeing their men’s injuries. “I’ve missed you, Tori.” He gazed into her clear blue eyes.
“I’ve missed you, too, Scott.”
She had the same fiery look that she would get right before she was about to undress. That look drove him wild, and even in his physically and emotionally beat-up state, he could feel his body respond to that thought, and he adjusted himself quickly.
“I see you're in working order.” Tori took notice of his slight erection. She slid her hand under the sheet grabbed his cock and gave it a tug.
He grinned sheepishly, scratched his temple and looked downward, but didn’t protest. The more she stroked, the more he became aroused. His pain, both internal and external, faded with her touch. He slid his hand over her dress. She was wearing no bra under it, and he could see her nipple poking through. She pulled the strap off her shoulder, letting the strap drop to one side. Her ample breast fell out and he cupped it.
“God damn, you're fucking hot.” He pulled her in and kissed her again, groping her ass.
She rubbed her hand over his stubble. “I like your beard. It’s rugged and sexy.” Her hands went under his gown, down his torso, tracing the line of his abs. Carefully and gradually, she pulled the sheet lower, grabbing his cock and parting her lips.
“Wait.” He stopped her, and her eyes widened. He smiled boyishly to ease her concern. “Go over there for a second and open the right-side pocket of my backpack.” He pointed to a chair in the corner with a camouflage bag lying on it.
“Ok,” she said curiously, but obliged. As she walked over, holding her dress, it slid off her back. He saw a scrolled cross tattoo between her shoulder blades.
“Now I see the other ink. Damn, that’s sexy,” he remarked.
She turned and looked at him and gave him a wide, toothy grin as she unzipped the side pocket. She reached her hand in, pulling out her red, lacy thong she’d left him last time. Her head rocked back with that loud, obnoxious laugh of hers. “I forgot all about these. You almost got a freebie.” She winked, palmed them in her hand, and tucked them into her purse.
“Now get over here, beautiful, and finish what you started,” he ordered.