As I lie in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, it’s foggy in my head. They gave me a shot. Some downer. My thoughts are a mess. I can’t think clearly.

Ambush. Bomb. Rocket. Ejected. Leg ripped off.

And then Mac was there. Why was she here?

Where is here? Ramstein, probably. What’s she doing in Germany?

Ambush. Bomb. Rocket. Ejected. Leg ripped off.

Did she fly to Germany when she heard? Did she want to see me? Is she here because of me?

When I opened my eyes, she was there. Like an angel. My angel. She is so beautiful. Even more beautiful than I remembered. She gave me a loving look. Called me babe.

Ambush. Bomb. Rocket. Ejected. Leg ripped off.

I was kidding myself. I love her just as much now as I used to. Things are not easier. One spark, and I’m aflame again, like I’ve always been. She’s under my skin, and I’m not getting her out of there.

But now… What kind of a future would we have? She can’t be with a cripple like me. She deserves better. She deserves someone who can take care of her, who can help her. Not somebody she needs to take care of. No way. I don’t want that.

Ambush. Bomb. Rocket. Ejected. Leg ripped off.

My leg.

It was a shock to look down and see nothing where my leg used to be. It ripped out my heart. Not because I’m so attached to my leg, but because I don’t stand a chance with Mac this way. She needs somebody with legs. And I only have one now. And no spleen, either. Can you live without a spleen? I mean, if you can, then what’s the point of having one? Mac…

She’ll never see me as anything other than an invalid now. And all I ever wanted was to be a man for her.

Tears well up in my eyes, and I succumb to my self-pity. I cry about my leg, about Mac, about what is never going to be.

And then I realize I do not want to live like this.

* * *

At some point, a therapist comes to see me. But instead of cooperating, I just lie there, apathetic, not saying a word. I don’t care what happens to me. Why should I keep living? There is no reason.

I have never had such dark thoughts before. The past few years have not been easy for me, but I always knew I wanted to live. That there was a reason to live, even if Mac didn’t want me. But now? Everything has been turned to dust and blown away. Mac doesn’t want me. And I’m a cripple.

I ignore the small voice in my head trying to remind me that Mac is here with me because I’m wounded.

“Sergeant, how are you feeling?”

I ignore the annoying voice. How am I supposed to feel? I feel horrible! I’m crippled! I don’t think you could feel any other way in my situation.

“Tell me what you felt when you saw that your leg was missing.”

What did I feel? Anger, sadness, despair. But not all because of my leg. My feelings are a mess. Everything’s completely confused.

“Your girlfriend is in the waiting room. Do you want to see her?”

No. I never want to see her again.

It hurts. Why does she keep showing up whenever I’ve just managed to push her existence into the far corners of my mind? Why doesn’t she just leave me alone? Why does she have to keep ripping open those old wounds again and again?

I’m really starting to hate her now. Without her, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t be a cripple. I would never have met Shane, never talked to him about the Marines. I would be something completely different. Something other than a cripple, I think bitterly. Hell, I would be with some girl, too—maybe even married.

My head seems to be racing against itself: How many times can I think the word “cripple”?

“Why don’t you want to see her?” the therapist interrupts.

Because she broke my heart! And she keeps doing it again and again. She won’t stop breaking it. I can’t do this anymore. There’s nothing left of me for her to love. Nothing that could love her back. Not when I can’t even love myself anymore.

Every thought of her hurts. It hurts so bad. Every fiber of my being longs for her and the moment she held me, my cheek against her soft breasts. The moment she held my face and looked deep in my eyes, my panic ebbing away. The second I felt she loved me.

And then…then I realized she could not end up with a cripple like me. She is a good person, so she would never leave when it got hard. She would stick with me and end up despising me for holding her back.

“What do you feel when you look at your leg?” the therapist asks.

Anger. Sadness. Despair. Why did this happen? Why wasn’t I killed? That would be no worse than lying here with one leg. I’d rather be dead than a cripple.

I know a lot of veterans wear prosthetics, and many of them have good lives. Amputated legs often go unnoticed. But…is that something I would want to burden the woman I love with? She doesn’t deserve a man she needs to take care of. She should be with someone who can take care of her. Even if I could make myself believe she really wants me, I would never let her throw her life away like that.

And that’s what she would be doing if she chose to be with me. I would just be a burden to her, especially now that I don’t even know what I’m going to do with myself. I can forget about Force Recon. What else can I do? All I’ve ever been was a soldier.

“Don’t you want to talk to your girlfriend?”

No. I still don’t.

“I know it’s difficult for you…”

Oh, yeah? How would you know? You still have both legs. You haven’t had your spleen removed. You haven’t sustained injuries to your shoulder, arm, and thigh.

“I suppose that’s enough for today,” the therapist says, standing. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Okay, but I can’t promise I’m going to talk to you tomorrow, either.

“Your fiancée’s still waiting,” the nurse chirps brightly as she comes fluttering into my room.

“She’s not my fiancée,” I snarl.

The nurse takes my pulse. “Whatever she is, she’s spent the last five nights here at the hospital.”

“Send her away.”

“I can’t. She’s allowed to wait. And that’s all she does. She hasn’t tried to come in here. She’s respecting your wish. But if I were you—”

“You’re not me.”

“But if I was,” she continues, unperturbed, “I wouldn’t just shut her out like that. You need your family.”

“She’s not my family.”

“She will be one day.”

“No, she won’t.”

“Should I go get her? What do you think?”

“No.”

Looking cross, the nurse fills in a form and then moves swiftly out of the room. Leaving behind silence. Finally.

“Sergeant Tilman, how are you doing?”

It was too good to be true. Of course they won’t just leave me alone with my dark thoughts. It’s another nurse, bustling into my room.

“I’m excellent,” I grumble.

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“Not at all.”

“Your brother called. He wants to talk to you.”

“No.”

“Do you want to see your fiancée? I can go get her.”

“No.”

“Hmm.”

How many ways do I have to be impolite before they get it?

Unfortunately, the silence doesn’t last. “Are you ready to bathe?” she asks resolutely.

“How can I take a shower? I only have one leg.”

“You’ll stay right here, and I’ll give you a bed bath.”

I look at her like she’s lost her marbles. “Excuse me?”

“It’s not that big a deal, really. It’s my job.”

“I don’t want you to give me a bath,” I snap, embarrassed at the prospect of being bathed by a stranger. In bed.

“It’s time. You can’t keep lying around here all stinky.”

“I don’t smell.”

“I’m going to get some water.”

“No, you’re not,” I shout at her. “You’re not giving me a bath!”

She gives me an annoyed look. “Sometimes a family member will do it in these situations, but you don’t have any.”

Like I’d want Carey to give me a bath. Or Dad…

Mac? No, that’s oh so wrong! I don’t even want her in my life anymore.

“I’ll wait till I can limp over to the bathroom myself,” I decide.

“No,” the nurse says, heading for the door.

“Yes.” I want to cross my arms in front of my chest, but I still can’t really move the arm with the two bullet wounds.

The nurse turns and crosses her arms over her chest. “Look, Sergeant Tilman, it’s going to be me or her.”

I know exactly who she means. I stare into her eyes, wanting to show her I’m not scared. But she just stares back. I don’t think I’m going to win this fight. Ugh. This woman doesn’t look like she’d be very gentle with me…

God, when did I become such a pussy?

“Mac,” I mutter, resigned. The world has turned against me.

The nurse smiles and walks out, back to her perky self. A few minutes later, Mac sticks her head through the door. Tears are shining in her eyes, which are framed by dark shadows.

“Are you okay?” she asks gently.

“Don’t ask me stupid questions,” I hiss. But I regret it when I see her flinch.

The nurse returns and places a bowl of water, washcloths, a towel, a clean hospital gown, and soap on the bedside table. “Shall I show you how it’s done?” she asks.

I shake my head.

“We’ll be fine, thanks,” Mac says calmly.

I don’t want her doing this, but I see that I don’t have a chance.

When the nurse has left, Mac dips a washcloth into the water.

“Mac,” I say, taking a deep breath. “The following rule applies: You will not talk about our past. Not one word.”

“But—”

“No, not one word. I don’t want to hear anything. Not where you’re living or where you’re working, or anything else. Only if you stick to that rule will you be allowed into my room. Is that clear?”

“But—”

“Out!”

She raises both hands. “Okay, fine. I’m not going to say anything.”

I nod. “Okay.”

“I…” She sighs heavily. “I have to touch you.”

“Yes,” I grumble. “You won out against fat Berta.” It wasn’t much of a contest with that battleship of a woman.

Mac smiles slightly. “What if they’d offered you Melody?”

She knows very well she would have won out against all of them. Even if I don’t want this to happen. “The one with the tight little butt?” I ask coldly.

Mac nods, a tear rolling down her cheek. I’m an asshole. Fuck.

Slowly, she peels away my blanket and takes off my hospital gown. She runs the washcloth across my skin, washing away anything left over from the ambush. She’s gentle but thorough. She washes my arms, my neck, throat, chest, stomach… Then she hesitates before slowly pulling the blanket down further. I close my eyes and brace myself. Do not get a hard-on. Do not get a hard-on. Do not get a hard-on.

She keeps going the way she started. Gentle and thorough. And much too sexy.

She takes my cock into her hands, and my self-control is gone. It gets hard in her hands. Fuck!

“Hunter…” she whispers hoarsely.

I open my eyes and look at her. She bends over me and kisses my glans.

Oh, God. This is so good.

No, this sucks so bad!

She opens her perfect lips and takes my dick into her mouth. She sucks it, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks harder. Fuck! This is so perfect.

I claw one hand into the sheet, throw my head back, a try to lie still so I don’t feel my injuries. “Mac,” I moan quietly, and she looks me in the eyes. If this isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.

Fuck! I need to stop this. I can’t use her like this.

As if she’s read my thoughts, she sucks harder, taking more of me into her mouth. And her tongue! Fuck, her tongue is licking my shaft like it’s a goddamn lollipop! How can I tell her to let go?

I try to gather all my strength, but I can’t do it. Instead of stopping, she places my healthy hand on her head to keep it in place. She looks up at me, must hear my staccato breathing, and increases her efforts. I hold her, feeling bad about it even as I do it. I’m using her when I don’t even want her in my life anymore.

No, it’s not that I don’t want her. It’s that I can’t have her.

My dick hits the back of her throat, and she tries to relax. I can see tears welling up in her eyes as she fights the gag reflex. I loosen my hand, and she gives me a grateful look. A moment later, I cum in her mouth with a growl. The look of her swallowing my sperm is simply…phenomenal. I know I sound ridiculous, but when a girl wants you so much she swallows it, you suddenly feel ten feet tall.

She kisses my dick again before she finishes washing me. When she reaches the bandage on my leg, she averts her eyes slightly.

“Look at me,” I say.

She looks me in the eye. Firmly and lovingly.

“Do you find it gross?” Now I have to avert my gaze. I don’t want to see it in her eyes, see how she finds it revolting.

“Hunter, look at me,” she says.

Her little hand is on my thigh, and I have to look at her.

“You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, and I love everything about you. The fact that you’re going to wear a prosthetic is not going to change anything about that. I find nothing about you gross. Everything about you is perfect.”

I swallow hard, watching her, trying to see whether she’s lying, but she seems to be serious. Very carefully, she puts her fingertips onto the stump of my leg. She looks at me, but I’m so full of painkillers I don’t feel a thing.

“Everything about you is beautiful,” she says.

I nod slightly.

She helps me turn onto my side so she can wash my back. Then she puts a new hospital gown on me and tucks me in. Like a mother, I think, and suddenly remember the baby. Is it a boy or a girl? I’ve never asked. Even though her baby is related to me. I should at least know if I have a half brother or a half sister. But I can’t ask her.

When she’s finished, she asks, “Do you want me to leave?”

Hesitantly, I shake my head. It’s much too nice spending time with her. Fuck. She’s got me by the balls.

She sits down in a chair in the corner of the room.

“Come closer,” I say quietly and she is tugging the chair toward the bed.

Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, she takes my hand. And my hand seems to think it is the most natural thing in the world, because it squeezes hers.

“How are you doing, babe?” she asks softly.

She’s calling me that again! I need to send her away. I can’t let her believe we’re going to be together. It’s obvious we can’t be. Even if nothing had ever happened between us, I couldn’t allow her to throw her life away for me. I need to send her away.

Sometime. Soon. But not now. Right now, her hand is stroking mine, and it feels too good to stop. Her eyes are looking at me lovingly, and her velvet voice is wrapping itself around me. It all feels too good. I’m afraid I might be growing a pussy at this very moment…

“So-so,” I murmur.

“I know you’re scared. You don’t need to play the hero for me.”

Oh, Mac, you’re not getting it at all! You’re exactly the one person I have to play the hero for, because you’re the person I’ve always wanted to be a hero for. And still I told you and showed you things I’d never allowed anybody else to see or hear. I made myself vulnerable for you, and what did you do? You took a knife to my heart!

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she says, as if she can hear my thoughts.

“Mac,” I warn her.

“Okay. What am I allowed to talk about?”

“Shane says you’re not working for him anymore.”

She nods. “That’s true. I’m working for FemPower. I’m coordinating projects and campaigns all over California. I feel like I can actually make a bigger difference now. It’s very fulfilling on a personal level to actually be able to help.”

“You’ve always been good at lighting a spark in others.”

She shakes her head. “No, actually I’ve never been good at it. I…” She shakes her head. “Sorry.”

“Go on.”

She looks at me, and I know she wants to say something about our past.

“When you came to my talks…it was the first time I was good at it. Before, I just got through it somehow. Only when…” She swallows and gives me an imploring look. “Only when I told you my story was I able to also share it with others.”

“You never told Carter, did you?” I ask, wondering why I’m such a masochist fucker.

“That night was the first time he heard it.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and he wasn’t pleased. We got in a huge fight. And somehow…we were never the same again after that.”

“Stop, Mac. Stop.”

She nods. “Okay. But one more thing?”

I close my eyes and nod.

“I love you.”

I look at her. There are tears on her cheeks. “God, Mac.”

She looks so small and fragile. And, somehow, that smashes right through all the walls and chains I’ve built around my heart. I love her, I still do, and I guess that’s never going to change in this lifetime.

I tug on her hand, and she gets up. I scoot over a little and flip open the blanket. She looks surprised, but then she takes off her shoes and climbs in. She doesn’t really know how to position herself, so I open my arm and she snuggles up to me. Her head rests on my chest, and I can feel her breath.

And for the first time since I’ve been in this fucking hospital, I fall asleep.