Chapter 4

“Avocado,” Carmina said, staring at the picture on the cue card her speech therapist was holding up.

“Very good,” Sydney said with a smile. “Six months ago you couldn’t say that.”

“I don’t like them.” Carmina made a face.

“That’s not all you wanted to say,” Sydney chastised her. “Finish your thought.”

“That’s because I don’t like them,” Carmina said slowly.

“Excellent.” Sydney beamed at her. “Honestly, Carmina, your speech has improved dramatically. I’m so pleased. If I didn’t know you had a TBI, I’d never guess.”

“I used to talk very fast,” Carmina told her sadly. “Spanish and English.” She had trouble just saying “Spanish,” much less speaking it these days. It was weird. When she was really stressed she sometimes lapsed into Spanish without thinking about it. But if she thought about it and tried to speak Spanish, she came up blank. That troubled her, since it was her first language and the one her family preferred. One more thing widening the gulf between them. She looked over at Buster K and he got up from where he’d been lying and came over and licked her hand.

“I know you want to relearn your Spanish,” Sydney said sympathetically. “But you’ll need a different therapist for that. And since English seems to be easier for you at this point, I think it’s our best avenue to achieve full, independent functioning.”

“I function,” Carmina said defensively. “I live by myself.”

Sydney reached out and clasped Carmina’s hand. “I know. But you said you wanted to work, too, right? One day at a time, one goal at a time.”

It was the mantra Carmina had been using for the last two years. “I think I’m ready,” she told Sydney.

“You know what? I think so, too.” Sydney laughed at Carmina’s whoop of happiness and Buster K barked in surprise. “I’m so proud of you, Car. You’ve worked so hard. But,” she said, holding up her hand to stem Carmina’s celebration, “that doesn’t mean we don’t get to see each other regularly anymore. We have to make sure you maintain this level of functionality and continue to progress.” She softened her voice. “You know how unpredictable your condition is.”

Carmina started to nod, but spoke up before Sydney could rebuke her. “I know,” she said. “But I’m good, Sydney.” Carmina thought it was cruel that her therapist had such a hard name to say. It had taken months before she could call her by name.

“You’re better than good. You’re great. Don’t forget that.” She hugged Carmina, who hugged her back. “Now, what else is bothering you?” Sydney straightened the pile of cue cards in front of her. “I could tell you had something on your mind when you got here.” She folded her hands in her lap and gave Carmina her full attention.

Carmina was startled at Sydney’s astuteness, although she knew she shouldn’t be. The two women had gotten to know one another pretty well over the last few months. Sydney was only a few years older than she was, and they’d clicked immediately. Carmina started to deny that anything was wrong, but changed her mind. “Can I ask you something…awkward?” she asked.

“Well, this sounds interesting,” Sydney said. “Go ahead.”

“Will sex affect my recovery?” Carmina asked in a whisper, leaning toward Sydney. Sydney moved closer, too, and whispered back.

“No.” Sydney leaned back in her chair with a laugh. “We’re in my office, Carmina. No one is going to overhear us. Have you met someone?” Her eyes gleamed with happy curiosity. “I hope so. Is it Sam?”

“What? No!” Carmina said vehemently. “Sam is my friend. Ew.” She shook her head. “He’s with King and Jane.”

“He sounds like Tarzan the Ape Man,” Sydney teased. “Sorry, I forgot about that, although I don’t know how. It’s still all we hear on the news. It’s just that he’s the only guy I ever see you with. Who is it?”

“No one,” she said. “Just, you know, if someone came along who wanted to, it’s good to know I can.”

“You can,” Sydney said firmly. “Don’t worry.”

Carmina hoped like hell Sydney was right and that she could finally orgasm. She just needed to find a guy to help her get there. She was convinced she needed more than a fantasy lover. She needed a flesh-and-blood man to make it happen. So her new goal was to find one. If she could learn to talk again, she could learn to come again.

“Tonight, we celebrate,” Sam said, lifting Carmina up in a bear hug. She laughed. He set her back down, put both hands on her shoulders, and stared into her eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready? For a job, I mean?” She nodded.

“Yes,” she said firmly. “I’m bored.”

Sam’s girlfriend Jane laughed and gave her a one-armed hug. Jane was a nurse and she’d just gotten home from the hospital. She was still in her scrubs. “That sounds about right,” she said. “I could tell you were getting restless sitting around your apartment and playing Call of Duty.”

“Nigel’s having some people over,” King said from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter. “He told me today, asked me to tell you. Sort of a holiday thing.” He winked at Carmina. “I think he likes you.” She shook her head vehemently. “No?” King asked. “Too bad. He’s a pretty good guy.”

“He’s a dog,” Sam said in disgust. “I mean, I like him, but he gets around. You know?” He frowned at Carmina. “Stay away from that.”

“Okay, Dad,” Carmina said sarcastically. She loved Sam to pieces, she did. He’d been her rock the last couple of years. They’d been sitting next to one another on the transport when they hit the IED. She’d been thrown from the truck and knocked out and Sam had been badly burned on his back, then shot a few times. They were the only survivors. Sometimes she felt like he was more family to her than her actual blood relatives. But he was so overprotective. That was probably her fault, because she’d relied on him so heavily when she was first released from the hospital and still couldn’t speak properly. She even moved to Birmingham to be closer to him. It was no wonder he felt like he needed to protect her. But she’d come here because her family was stifling her, treating her like an invalid, trying to force her to recover on their terms. That wasn’t what she needed. She’d needed someone who understood what she’d been through and who she was now, and that was Sam.

“You’ve been out of commission for a while,” Sam said defensively. “Nigel would be like going from the baby pool to Olympic competition.”

“I’m not a baby,” Carmina said angrily. “I’m not a virgin, you know.”

“TMI,” King said, leaving his position by the counter. “We’ll let you two work this out.” He picked Jane up with one arm around her waist without even slowing down. Jane squealed and laughed and, when they were out of sight, Carmina heard King murmuring something she couldn’t understand and the tone of Jane’s laugh changed. Sam gazed at the door wistfully and Carmina rolled her eyes. These three spent half their life in bed. Not sleeping. No wonder Carmina was frustrated. She was surrounded by people constantly having sex.

“I want to have sex,” she told Sam, determined to set him straight.

“What?” he asked in horror, backing away from her.

“Not with you, numb nuts,” she told him. “But with just about anybody else. I am hard up. No lie.”

“Jesus, de la Cruz,” Sam said, blushing and running his hand over his short hair. “Why are you telling me?”

“Because I don’t want you to get in the way,” she said slowly. “The only guys I know in Birmingham are Rebels. So it’s probably going to be a player. Leave him alone. And me. Leave us alone. I’m not looking for a ring. I just want to get laid.”

“Can I at least have some say in who you pick?” Sam asked, clearly frustrated. “I know these guys and, seriously, there are a few you do not want to get mixed up with.”

“Like who?” she asked, motioning impatiently with her hands.

“Dominique Reyes, for one,” Sam told her. “That dude is bad news. He’s got gang connections in LA.”

“Crossed off,” Carmina said, nodding. “Who else?”

“Prince Merrill,” Sam said. “He’s a great guy, but his wife died of cancer a couple of years ago and he’s not over it.”

“Oh,” Carmina said. “Sad.”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “Also Marlon Parris. He was screwing another player’s wife. That’s what got him traded from Jacksonville.”

Carmina made a face. “Not cool. Okay.”

“And Michael Swan,” Sam said. Carmina made a surprised face. Swan was one of the best players on the team, an All Star cornerback. “He’s into that dom and sub stuff,” Sam told her. “Do not go there. My heart can’t handle it.”

“Mine either,” Carmina said, putting a hand over her heart protectively. “Go on.”

“Well, Kellan Lawry is in the middle of a nasty divorce, so you should probably stay out of that. And Kitt Doyle got dumped by his fiancée right before the season started, and there were rumors he abused her.”

“Doyle?” Carmina said incredulously. He was an Irish choirboy having a career season. He was half the reason the Rebels were going to the playoffs.

“Yeah, we don’t buy it either, and he denied it. Also, the league didn’t find any proof and he wasn’t disciplined or charged by police. So we don’t think it was true. But still, you never know for sure.”

“You never know,” she said, agreeing with him. “Okay, none of those guys.”

“Hell, if I had my choice, no one at all,” Sam grumbled.

“You don’t get to make the choice,” Carmina told him firmly. “Promise?”

“Fine. Go get laid. Whatever. Don’t you think you’re moving a little fast? First a job, and now this?”

“Fast?” she asked in disbelief. “It’s been over three years since I had sex.”

“Oh.” Sam looked shocked. “Well, I went two.”

“You want a medal?” she asked sarcastically.

“Got one, thanks,” he said just as sarcastically.

“Me, too. Not as good as sex,” she told him. He grinned.

“Nope,” he said. “Not as good as sex.” He came over and hugged her. “Don’t worry. I’ll be your wingman.”

And this was why they were best friends.