CHAPTER SEVEN
Tank
“How are you really doing?”
I fight not to roll my eyes at my older sister. She’s my second mother, has been since the day I was born. I remember her dressing me up and showing me off to her friends when I was little. I’m glad there aren’t any pictures because I looked like a horrible Cabbage Patch Doll reject if I recall correctly. It never bothered me, but sometimes her need to mother me is suffocating, especially as I got older and started living my own life. It’s never cool to have two moms breathing down your neck, and that’s exactly what I have some days.
“Save all your motherly concerns for my niece. She should be here very soon,” I give her a slight grin, adjusting my leg on the couch in the den. I hope the grin softens the blow of my tone. I’m not in the mood for it today. If I’m honest, I’m not even in the mood for my own company. Given carte blanche, I’d probably tell them all to get out.
I hate sitting here, almost like I’m holding court. Blaze sits in the recliner, while Whitney and Renegade sit on the love seat opposite me while we watch some garbage on TV. I do my best not to pay attention when my best friend caresses my sister’s stomach and they share a sickening sweet look with one another.
It’s still a little shocking they’re going to have a child together. It’s taken us all a little time to wrap our heads around it. “Dude, stop fondling my sister.”
“Stop being a dick,” he fires back at me.
That’s a fair assessment. I’m not in the greatest of moods today. I have my first round of physical therapy this afternoon and I’m not looking forward to it. The unknown is driving me nuts, and if this was a few weeks ago, I’d go for a run to get rid of the anxiety I have coursing through me right now. But this isn’t a few weeks ago, and I’m dealing with the hand I’ve been dealt.
Whitney sits up straighter, dislodging his arm from around her shoulders, and I seriously do feel like a dick. If there’s anyone who deserves to be happy, it’s her. Even Blaze is looking at me with barely restrained anger in her eyes.
“Sorry, I’m a little on edge today. I start my physical therapy this afternoon.”
I hope my explanation is enough, because I don’t want to look too deeply into why I’m being an ass.
Whitney lets out a little noise from where she sits. “Trev, it’s going to be fine. Do you want me to come with you?”
“I’m going,” Blaze speaks up, not moving her eyes from the TV screen. “So I know what he has to do daily, even when he doesn’t have an appointment.”
I smile, showing my teeth to her. “She can be my warden.”
“So we can get you better,” she retorts, not taking my shit. It’s one of the things I love about her, but also one of the things that’s pissing me off today.
“I want something to drink,” Whitney stands up, caressing her stomach when she does so. “Blaze, wanna come?”
She stands up as well. “Sure, there’s a lot of hot air in this room.”
I fight not to flip her back off as she leaves. God, I’m in a mood today. The only person willing to put up with me is Ryan, who’s seen me through the absolute worst times of my life. When I drag my gaze over to him, I see that he’s in complete Renegade mode and he’s ready to do battle.
“What the fuck do you want?” I snarl. Fuck I want to run, pound a bag, do anything rather than sit here and deal with this anger.
“To know why you’re being an ass to the people who care about you. What the fuck’s going on in that head of yours?”
If there’s one person I can be completely honest with, it’s him. He and I have seen and done things together that we’ll take to our graves, things we’ll never speak of again that got us out of really shitty situations in the war zone in Iraq. If anyone understands, it’s him, and if I know Whitney and Blaze, they’re giving us a chance to talk.
“I’m scared, really fuckin’ scared.”
“That’s it’s gonna hurt?” Ryan shakes his head. “Of course it’s gonna hurt, it’s physical therapy and you have screws and plates in your leg. But you have to move it. You can’t get a blood clot or let the muscles atrophy.”
I hold up my hand, stopping his rant. “I’m scared I’ll never be the same again. What if I can’t make the five-mile run in twenty-five minutes anymore? What if I have a limp? I’m not disabled discharging from this bullshit,” I hiss through clenched teeth. It hasn’t hit me until today that physical therapy may not work.
Realization washes over his face, and I see him let out a deep breath. “Damn brother, I never questioned whether you would come back from this. Besides the PT they’re giving you now is just going to keep your strength up, it’s going to have nothing to do with your leg until you get the okay to use it.
I punch my hand against my chest. I ignore the annoying comment and talk about the one that’s bothering me. What if I can’t come back? “I have; I am – and it’s freaking me the fuck out.”
“Have you talked to Blaze or the department-appointed shrink about this?”
I shake my head. “Haven’t seen the shrink yet, and I’m not laying this on Blaze. She’s got enough shit to go through because of me.”
Ryan moves forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Blaze also loves you, and when you love someone, you don’t get to pick what you let them go through with you. They’re your partner. If you don’t treat her like one, you’re going to lose her the same way you did before, you stubborn fuck.”
I hear what he’s saying, but it doesn’t help the anxiety I have in my chest, or the dread that’s settled into my stomach. The girls come back in and I can’t say anything else, instead I spend the rest of their visit brooding in my own head.
* * *
“You don’t have to come in with me,” I relieve Blaze of her babysitting duties. My tone is clipped as I spit the words past my lips like sunflower seeds on a long road trip.
“I might not have to, but I want to,” she fumes as she finds a parking spot.
“What, no letting me out at the front door? I’m an invalid, didn’t you know?” I gesture to my leg.
“You’re not an invalid, and I don’t know why the hell you’re acting like this, Trevor. I’ve never known you to be such an asshole. Your heavily pregnant sister came to see you to make sure you’re okay. I’m doing my best to help you out, and you’ve been nothing but an asshole to me today. I can see you’re pissed, but it doesn’t excuse the way you’re treating people,” she slams her SUV in park. “So no, I’m not coddling you and parking at the drop off. You’re so fucking determined to do things on your own? Get your own damn crutches. I’ll see you inside.”
She gets out, slamming the door so hard it jars the vehicle, making it sway slightly. I watch as she stomps off for the front of the medical building. She doesn’t even look back to check on me. If I’m being honest, I totally deserve this. Reaching behind me, I snag one of the crutches, but it’s too big for me to pull around me. Shit, this just pisses me off more. Opening the door, I lean on the seat as I fight with the piece of metal, almost shoving it through the windshield before I get it out. It’s much quicker getting the next one out, but I’m sweating as I make my way up to the front of the building, breathing hard and flat out needing a rest. When I notice Blaze looking at me through the window, I grit my teeth and move on. I’ll be damned if she sees me struggling.
“Are you okay?” She asks when I make my way inside, thankful for the air conditioning, even in December. Alabama hasn’t gotten the memo that it’s winter. Her tone and eyes tell me she’s only asking because it’s what she’s taught to do for a patient. Blaze is still fully pissed at me, and it’s probably not going to go away for a while.
I shoot her an annoyed look. “I’m good. Which way do I need to go?”
“We have a follow-up appointment with the surgeon first and he’ll recommend the physical therapy, then we’ll move down to that part of the building.”
I’m already tired thinking about it, but I motion with my crutch for her to lead the way.