“You’re overdoing it, O’Connor.”

Luke opened his eyes at the sound of the physical therapist’s shoes hitting the tiled floor. “How exactly am I overdoing it when I’m strapped to a machine?” He wasn’t exactly strapped, but it felt that way. Square, gel-based pads were suctioned to his bad hip like stickers. Wires ran from the pads to the machine, which then, from Luke’s understanding of it all, pumped electrical currents into his hip to lessen the pain. “I’m getting massaged, for fuck’s sake.”

The therapist, Robb, flicked a switch and the gentle humming of the machine quieted. “You’re already three months into therapy. For someone your age and body type, we should have progressed past the pool and electrode stimulation.”

For weeks now, Luke had suspected that he’d been falling behind schedule. Instead of growing more limber, it’d become harder to walk, harder to stand after sitting. Luke didn’t scare easily, but seeing the strength in his body deteriorate was enough to keep him up with night terrors.

Night terrors that had nothing to do with Trinket the Hip-killing Asshole, and everything to do with missions gone wrong and the victims of war whose faces were emblazoned in his memory.

The constant dose of pain was wearing on him and tearing down his defenses.

“I’ve done exactly what I’ve been told,” Luke said, back on the conversation of his bum hip. “Short of never moving from my bed again I haven’t been stupid.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Shit.

“Can we get me unhooked here? Maybe sit me upright?” Luke placed his hands on either sides of his hips and attempted to shift upward. It didn’t work. The electrode pads tugged at his skin, and his hip refused to kick into gear and function.

Robb settled on a squat chair to Luke’s right. He crossed one leg over the other at the ankle, linking his hands together over his knee. “Want to know why I don’t believe you?”

“Not particularly.”

The therapist continued, unfazed. “Your sister called the other day. Let me know that her older brother has been going out at the crack of dawn for longer walks than he’s allotted.”

Of course Amy would be the rat. He narrowed his gaze on Robb. “You ever think it’s weird that you still talk to your ex-girlfriend all the time?”

Robb and Amy had dated since college. Their on-again, off-again relationship had always driven Luke batty because he hated to see Amy cry. Apparently, the fact that Robb Hampton, one of the leading physical therapists in the city, was now Luke’s physical therapist, was enough cause for them to strike up conversation again.

Luke didn’t know whether to be pissed off or to accept that Amy and Robb’s relationship was none of his business.

Most of the time, he remained the ticked-off older brother.

“My relationship with your sister is not up for discussion,” Robb said.

Luke rose onto his elbows so he could look the other man in the eye. “So, you admit that the relationship is on, right now.”

“Not up for discussion.”

“It’s always up for discussion.”

Robb rolled his eyes. “Listen, O’Connor, you’ve been in the army for how long?”

Through gritted teeth, he bit out, “Thirteen years.”

“Right. Correct me if I’m wrong, but after thirteen years of being practically nowhere in sight . . . do you really think you have a say in my relationship?”

Luke had always been his sister’s champion. He’d been the man of the family, thanks to his own father dipping out when he’d been just a kid, and he’d done what had been needed to support Amy and their mother. Throughout most of his childhood, Moira’s dream of opening her own shop had been just that: a dream. She’d toiled away hours at the local supermarket, planning and designing a business that she’d hoped would one day feed her family.

But with no extra money to be found, Moira’s dream existed only in the countless notebooks she filled with inventory items and sketches of store layouts.

It had been Luke’s first, non-taxed deployment check that had provided the income for the glass bottles for oils and the plastic bags for the tea blends. It had been a good majority of his salary that had allowed Moira to find a location in the French Quarter and put down the 3% down-payment to call it hers. His non-taxed second deployment income had paved the way for Amy to pick the university of her choosing while not finding herself swaddled in debt.

For thirteen years, Luke had put his hopes and dreams on the backburner for the sake of his family’s happiness. And now, thirteen years and two months later to the day, he was no longer a soldier and, quite honestly, not sure he had any personal dreams left.

It cut him that Amy had never relayed any of this to her boyfriend, but he only had himself to blame for that. He hadn’t wanted his younger sister to know how much of her opportunities could be placed at his feet. It was one thing to think that their mother had provided the money and co-signed the loans, quite another thing to realize that Luke had single-handedly put Amy through four years of college.

A college where she’d met this prick.

Glaring up at the ceiling, he muttered, “Let’s just get this over with. Tell me whatever it is that’s keeping you up at night.”

If he felt at all pleased by the chance to air his grievances, Robb didn’t show it. “You want to get better? Then stop pretending you’re G.I. Joe.” Robb crossed his arms over his chest. “You aren’t a soldier—not anymore. No more extended walking, no more foregoing your cane when you’re at your house.”

“Fuck that. Now listen here—”

Robb cut him off with a lifted hand. “Don’t even bother lying, O’Connor. Amy’s told me that she’s caught you without the cane three times now.”

“I was getting the goddamn milk out of the fridge,” he grunted, not even bothering to pretend otherwise. Though he and Amy were going to have a nice long talk about keeping certain things in the family. He knew she only meant well and worried over his recovery, but Jesus, sometimes a man liked to pretend he wasn’t one second away from crumpling to the floor.

“So get a dog and train it to get the milk for you,” was Robb’s no-nonsense response. “At least you’ll be occupied.”

“Thought I wasn’t supposed to be going out for extended walks?”

“Hell, I don’t know, O’Connor. Hire a dog walker. Make friends with something that isn’t your TV, your couch, or your right hand.”

Luke dropped his head back against the pillow. “Amy ever tell you that you’re a shit motivational speaker?”

“Guess it’s a good thing I don’t get paid to motivate people.”

“What do you call being someone’s therapist?”

Robb walked over to the electrode machine and flicked the switch. Almost instantaneously, the hammering pain in Luke’s hip eased as the electrical current worked its magic. He fought back a moan of relief.

“I’ll be back in ten after another cycle,” Robb said, heading to the door. “And O’Connor?”

Luke didn’t even bother to reply. He cranked one eye open and stared at his sister’s boyfriend.

“If you don’t cool it with the overexertion, I’m going to put you back on the walker.”

And with that, Robb Hampton walked out of the room. The bastard.