Chapter Six
JED BRACED his weight on the sink and pulled himself upright. He hovered a moment halfway, with his hand over his mouth, sure he would puke for the hundredth time that morning. He didn’t, but the sharp pain in his stomach sent him back to the floor.
It was past noon by the time he dragged himself into the kitchen in search of something to soak up the reluctant, solitary tramadol in his delinquent stomach. He put the kettle on the stove and slumped into a chair at the battered old table, dozing with his head in his arms in a drug-induced stupor while he waited for it to boil.
Sometime later, Max placed a steaming mug of tea in front of him, rousing him with a gentle nudge. “Still feel bad?”
Jed put his hands around the mug, absorbing the heat. The cold had never bothered him much, but recently he’d found he couldn’t get warm. “What makes you say that?”
“You’ve been pretty green since yesterday, and Flo has her eye on you. What’s up? Are you sick or something?”
Jed shook his head. He’d been sick every day of the week since Thanksgiving, but to answer “Or something” sounded lame, and he wasn’t about to explain the state of his faulty stomach. Screw that. He’d spent enough time talking about it, and where had it gotten him? Curled up on the bathroom floor of a cabin in the ass end of nowhere.
Max tipped some food into Flo’s bowl and slid into the seat opposite. “It’s quiet up here, isn’t it? It can get a bit oppressive sometimes.”
“It’s not that.”
And it wasn’t. Jed hadn’t been at the cabin long enough to figure out if he liked it or not, and he was still suppressing the urge to crawl back into town and throttle his brother.
Nick. Jed closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about him. Instead, he let his mind drift to another kitchen he’d found himself in on Thanksgiving night. He’d been so eager to leave the Cooper house he hadn’t considered the three-mile hike to the cabin, but Max had. He’d led Jed to a beat-up old house on the wrong side of town, and Jed was halfway up the driveway before he recognized the Valesco family home.
The belated realization had thrown him. Until that moment, he’d found himself indifferent toward his hometown, but this warm, ramshackle house was different. It was the first time Jed truly felt like he was somewhere he’d been before.
His long-put-off reunion with Hector and Anna Valesco had been emotional. Anna had cried, and her tears got to him. Did he really deserve them after he’d run out on the family who’d treated him like a son? Probably not. Repressed guilt ate away at Jed, and he’d felt disoriented after that. Even Hector’s attempt to pass him money and Carla’s searching stare hadn’t roused him enough to make much conversation. It wasn’t long before Dan offered him and Max a ride back to the cabin.
“Don’t be a stranger. I know this isn’t where you want to be, but it’s good to have you home,” Dan had said.
He’d driven away before Jed could articulate an answer. Dazed, Jed had wandered inside the cabin and found Max waiting for him. Max took his bag to his room, made him a cup of some strangely addictive tea and disappeared, leaving him to his own devices. After that, as had become his habit lately, he’d spent the rest of the night watching the rain.
“Jed?”
Jed opened his eyes, startled. It seemed despite his best efforts, his head had found its way back to the table. “Sorry, what?”
Max grinned, but his gaze was concerned. “You really don’t look well. Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“No.”
Unfazed, Max folded his arms across his chest. “How about the CliffsNotes version.”
Jed sat up, considering his options. Kim had asked him similar questions, but he’d brushed her off with little trouble. The three-story townhouse was big enough to avoid her if he needed to, and the children kept her busy. The cabin was much smaller, and from the look on Max’s face, he wasn’t as easy to fool. “How much do you already know?”
Max shrugged. “Not much. Just that you split town a long time ago. I didn’t know you were a soldier until you got hurt. Nick never talks about you, though I guess I know why now.”
Jed snorted. They’d had the gay conversation already, and it was pretty obvious why Nick had kept it a secret. Time hadn’t healed his inbred intolerance. “Did he tell you what happened to me?”
“No. The soldiers who came to the house said you’d been shot and caught in an explosion. They didn’t say where or how, and Nick was gone before we could ask him.”
“That pretty much covers it,” Jed said dryly. He had no idea if Nick had been told about his preexisting gastroparesis diagnosis in the military hospital. If he had, he’d kept it to himself. “I can walk well enough now, but….”
“Sometimes it hurts like hell?”
“Something like that.”
Max shifted in his chair, relaxing his arms and leaning back. “Is it getting better?”
“It’s been worse, but I’m pretty much stuck with it, for the time being at least.”
Affinity flashed in Max’s eyes. “That can’t be any fun. There must be stuff you can do to make it better.”
“Probably.” Jed reached for the cooled tea and took a tiny, experimental sip. “I just haven’t figured out what it is yet.”
Max made a noncommittal noise; he seemed distracted. Jed waited, reading him with practiced eyes. Years of analyzing human behavior had taught him that, given enough time, someone like Max would always say what he needed to say.
He didn’t have to wait long.
“What happened to the bullet? Did it go right through your leg?”
“Yep. Through my thigh.”
Max chewed on his lip, his head tilted to one side, and this time, Jed didn’t have the patience to wait. He knew exactly what Max wanted because he’d fended off the same request from Dan. Only difference was, Max seemed to be searching for a diplomatic way to ask.
“Want to see?”
Max’s eyes widened, but Jed didn’t wait for a response. He stood, balancing himself on the table and reached for the waistband of his sweatpants.
Max pushed his chair back and held out his arms. “Lean on me.”
Jed hesitated. It wasn’t his nature to lean on anyone, but Max held firm, taking Jed’s hand from the table and lifting his arm over his shoulders. “Okay?”
In answer, Jed eased one side of his sweatpants over his hip and halfway down his thigh. He reached for the hem of his boxers, grateful for Max’s steadying hands, and rolled the material up to reveal the circular scar on the outside of his leg. With gritted teeth, he twisted to reveal the matching mark on the inside.
Max leaned forward, catching Jed off guard. He’d expected a reaction. Pity, horror, disgust—he didn’t much care which—but he was sorely unprepared for the sensation of a rough, calloused fingertip tracing the length of the surgical scar he’d failed to mention.
“Is this from the same injury?”
Jed swallowed hard. “Yeah, they had to put some pins in the bone and repair a bunch of nerves, but….”
“It’ll never be quite the same?”
“Something like that.”
Max withdrew his hand and grinned. “You say that a lot.” When Jed failed to answer, Max gently pried his clothes from his fingers and pulled his sweatpants back up his leg. “Are you okay getting around?”
“Hmm?”
“Is there anything I can do to help you?”
“Nope.” Jed fingered his waistband. Did he really just do that? “I just have to get back on my feet. Rehab, eat well. The usual shit.”
Max slipped out from under Jed’s arm and returned to his own seat. “Well, I can probably help you with that. I don’t eat meat, or junk food. Sugar makes me loopy, and additives make my seizures worse.”
“Is that why you grow your own food?”
“Mostly. It saves money too. The boat shed only covers the rent.”
Jed picked up his cup and carefully maneuvered himself to place it in the sink. “I can pay the rent.”
“I don’t need you to pay the rent.”
Jed hid his grin. He’d learned over the last few days that Max was fiercely independent and belligerent when he felt that was threatened. “I know that, but I need to pay my way. How about I pay the rent and you pay the bills?”
“How about you pay your own bills?”
“I’m a crippled veteran, babe. I don’t have any.” Jed winced. The casual endearment had slipped out like he’d said it a thousand times. He hadn’t. He couldn’t recall referring to anyone as babe, let alone another man. Damn fucking tramadol.
Max seemed taken aback too, but he recovered quickly. “Let’s talk about it another day. Want to watch a movie?”
“Don’t you have boat shit to do?” Jed shot back, eager to steer the conversation away from himself.
“Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. Besides, watch this.” Max walked to the back door and whistled for Flo. She followed him halfway, looked back at Jed, and whined. “See? You’re giving off bad vibes. She doesn’t want to leave you alone.”
Jed wasn’t pleased that even the dog saw through him, but he didn’t have the energy to argue. Lacking any better ideas, he followed Max into the living room, watched him build a fire, and promptly fell asleep on the couch.
He woke sometime later to a dim room that told him he’d been asleep for a good few hours. He shifted carefully, testing himself, but all things considered, he felt pretty good. The comforting smell of wood smoke reached him. He let his eyes close again, but despite the soothing warmth of the fire, his mind drifted, led astray by the lingering narcotics, to the most memorable Thanksgiving he’d had in years.
Somewhere beneath lingering exhaustion and nausea, Jed could still feel the rage he’d felt when Nick had handed him the phone and he’d heard his ailing father’s slurred voice.
“Happy Thanksgiving, son. It’s good to have you home.”
Jed clenched his fists. Was the old bastard fucking kidding? It didn’t meld well with the parting words of the last conversation they’d had.
“Get your faggot ass out of my house. You’re no son of mine.”
It was the culmination of years of conflict. He had more than a decade of real war to compare it to, but his childhood home was still the worst battleground he’d ever endured. Years later, after an evening spent watching Nick tear his own family apart in much the same way, hearing Frank Cooper’s voice was too much.
Perhaps it was a twisted sense of nostalgia that had driven him to put himself between Nick and Kim. Max seemed so certain Nick wasn’t violent, but there was something about the way he spoke to Kim, something horribly familiar. Kim was a firecracker—tough and brave—but when the time came, she’d be no match for a man twice her size. Jed had spent his whole childhood watching how that panned out.
Once outside, it hadn’t taken long to defuse Nick’s belligerence. Jed had honed that skill over the years. Border crossings, guerrilla roadblocks, a besieged city marketplace. The scenery changed, but the method remained the same. He was good at it, always had been, and when the fight in Nick had descended into self-loathing, he’d had to swallow his disgust.
Movement brought Jed back to the present. He shifted and propped himself up on one elbow.
Max looked over his shoulder as he stoked the fire. “I thought you were asleep.”
Jed tested his body again, surprised to find the ache in his abdomen had faded to a dull roar. His head felt clearer too. For the first time in days, the room didn’t spin. “Nah. Resting my eyes.”
“That old chestnut, eh?”
Max made his way back to the sofa and hovered, like he was considering helping Jed up, but thought better of it before Jed could wave him away and dropped back to his position on the floor.
Jed followed Max’s concentrated gaze to the coffee table. It was strewn with tools and what appeared to be a boat engine. He watched Max work for a while. Kim had told him Max shared Tess’s inability to sit still. She said he had two gears—manic and sleep—but as Jed watched him methodically reconstruct the engine, he was inclined to disagree. Jed didn’t have much interest in boats, but he knew the workings of an engine. As far as he could tell, Max was about done. Whatever his issues, he was clearly good with his hands.
Exhausted, Jed let his head drop back to the arm of the couch. The smell of oil and gasoline was comforting. If he closed his eyes, he could almost convince himself he was somewhere else, but the warmth of Max’s body just inches away kept him in the present. He’d lived in close quarters with other men for most of his adult life, but something about Max felt different. Jed drifted back to sleep with a strange sensation in his bones.