Because of You: A Loveswept Contemporary Military Romance (17 page)

“Really?”

She shrugged as she handed out the drinks. “No. I never complain when he wants to watch
Dune
for the thousandth time, but every Reese Witherspoon movie ever made? You’d have thought I was cutting off one of his limbs.”

Jen, who’d just taken a sip of her wine, choked. “Dune?”

“Oh, not the remake. The original version. He calls one of his lieutenants a Harkonan.”

Jen laughed and wished she didn’t know that calling someone a Harkonan was just like calling them a Napoleon. Only significantly less flattering.

“Which lieutenant?” Laura asked. “Which one do you think?”

“Randall?”

“Got it in one.” Nicole snapped her fingers, and sipped her wine. Jen was suddenly aware that both of her friends were staring at her. Waiting.

“So I take it Shane liked the new look?” Laura said finally.

Heat crept up her neck. “I don’t suppose it would help if I pretended not to know what you’re talking about?”

“Nuh-uh. Nice try, though.” Nicole shook her head and cupped her chin in her palm. “To hear Vic tell it, you were dry humping with the door wide open. I figured he was exaggerating.”

Jen opened her mouth to speak, but Laura cut her off before she’d even drawn a breath. “So you were in a compromising position today.” Laura’s eyes widened. “Can we define compromising? You weren’t in his lap or anything, were you? ’Cause I would be really impressed if you
were
in his lap.”

“No. Nothing that exciting.” It was so much more than that. How could she explain the delicious sensation of his skin beneath her fingers? Or the strong, steady beat of his heart against her palm? “It’s just he …”

It wasn’t just desire or lust. It was as intense as it was private. It was something more. At least it was to her.

“He …?” Laura prompted.

“His emotions are just all mixed up with gratitude because I’ve been taking care of him. That’s all.”

“That’s not what Vic says he saw,” Nicole said. She tipped her wineglass up and drained the contents, then topped it off.

“Vic walked in on the tail end of a bath,” Jen snapped. “Not so unusual in my line of work.”

“Touchy, aren’t we?” Laura studied her over the edge of her wineglass.

“Can we just start the movie? Nothing happened.”

“But something would have if Vic hadn’t interrupted,” Nicole said.

Exasperation crept into Jen’s voice. “I don’t know. Why is this such a big deal?”

“The big deal, m’dear, is that you’ve been acting like the world ended when you got sick,” Laura said. “The fact that Shane has broken through your shell is significant progress. I might just have to give him some pointers on how to get you into bed.” Her eyes sparkled wickedly and Jen threw a pillow at her, even as a laugh escaped.

“Are we watching a movie or not?”

Laura filled up Jen’s glass. “A toast first. To you.”

“To taking chances on the good guys,” Nicole said.

Jen stayed silent, clinking her glass with those of her friends. She was taking a chance. A small one. Even if it led to nothing, the feelings Shane inspired inside her were worth holding on to.

They broke up Nicole’s Reese glom and decided on
City of Angels
instead. It wasn’t long before Jen blinked back tears. Meg Ryan’s character sat in a stairwell, constantly replaying the decisions she’d made in surgery, wishing she could have somehow saved her patient. She didn’t know an angel stood in front of her. Even if she
had
known, she still wouldn’t have stopped feeling guilty. Jen sipped her wine. It was all too easy to picture Shane sitting in that stairwell, arguing with the angel who had taken one of his men. Demanding that the angel take Shane instead.

She remembered what he’d said about his mother, how she wasn’t really in his life. Had anyone ever worried about Shane the man, rather than just Shane the soldier? What had his injuries done to him emotionally? Had he even considered what the rest of his life would be like? And what if he never healed enough to return to the fight? Would he accept a life behind a desk instead of leading troops? What would that do to a man like him? As Jen fell into sleep that night, she wondered if he was capable of loving anyone aside from his soldiers. Could he ever devote his life to something other than his men?

* * *

He raced toward the burning vehicle at a dead sprint. One of his boys was pinned beneath it, struggling to break free from the approaching flames. As Shane closed the distance, he saw that the soldier’s arm was stuck, wedged between the door and the Humvee. He kept running, but until he closed that final gap, he couldn’t see who was trapped through the smoke
.

The soldier turned toward Shane, revealing his face
.

Carponti grinned in Shane’s direction. “Hey, Sarn’t G! Watch this!” Carponti grabbed his M4, his arm suddenly free, and put the barrel in his mouth—

Shane exploded awake, every vein in his body throbbing in time with his racing heart. Carponti’s blood burned against his brain and Shane gouged his fingers into his eyes, trying to scrub the horrible sight from his memory. Shame threatened to choke him when he saw that his fingers were trembling.

Carponti. Why the hell was he dreaming about Carponti? What was wrong with him?

The door to his hospital room slammed open. “Speak of the devil,” Shane muttered
as Carponti strolled in, his bandaged arm held against his stomach.

“What the hell are you doing asleep at this hour? It’s past lunch. Get up. We’re playing spades.” Carponti slammed a deck of cards onto the little rolling table that was positioned next to Shane’s bed, and lowered one of the bed’s rails. “You can move those sorry excuses for legs or I can, but I’m sitting down.”

“Don’t be such a dickhead.” Shane frowned. If there was any hint that his dream held even a fragment of truth … Hell, what could he say?
Hey, man, you okay? I know you lost an arm and all
— He seemed fine. So why couldn’t Shane convince his subconscious that he was? “In case you forgot, these things are still a pain in the ass to move.”

“Boo hoo. At least you’ve still got ten fingers and ten toes. Well, somewhere in there anyway. Ready?” Carponti positioned his good hand and his bandaged arm against Shane’s hips.

It wasn’t like moving his legs was something new. Daily, the nurses and physical therapy interns came in and moved them for him. Lifting, stretching, and sending brilliant, exploding pain radiating throughout his body. But if the hell of therapy meant he didn’t get any blood clots or more infections, so be it. They kept saying his legs were healing, but it wasn’t fast enough for Shane. He wanted out of this goddamned bed and back on his feet. There was too much work to do and he wasn’t getting any of it done sitting on his ass.

Together, they lifted Shane’s legs gently and eased them over, creating space for Carponti to sit. Shane hissed in a breath and held it, bracing for the pain that would come from moving his legs. For once, Carponti wasn’t a bull in a china closet.

“You can’t play spades with just two people.”

“Sure you can. You just lack imagination.” Carponti pushed the deck toward Shane. “I haven’t figured out how to shuffle the deck, though. You’re going to have to do that. No cheating.”

Shane spread the cards out between them, dividing the deck in half. Carponti swore as he struggled to pick up the cards Shane had tossed toward him. “Shit, this was a terrible idea,” he muttered.

“Here.” Shane pushed the cards into a stack and handed them to him. “Other than not being able to shuffle cards, how are you doing with all of this?” Better to name the elephant than beat around the bush.

Carponti shrugged and began peeling one card at a time off the top of the deck. “I’m fine. Nicole is kind of freaked out about the whole thing. But shit, it’s not like my dick got blown off. I’d probably have killed myself if TC hadn’t made it home.”

“TC?”

“Thundercock.”

“Who the hell names their own dick Thundercock?”

“My wife. I’m lucky like that.”

Shane choked. He couldn’t even pretend he’d taken a drink of water. “You lost a hand and you’re worried about your dick?”

“Sure. I mean, we could cuddle all day long but if I didn’t have my dick, she’d probably end up fucking the UPS guy.”

“Nicole would never do that to you,” Shane said. He picked up the cards and flipped them together. The sensation of the cards slapping against his fingertips was
something simple. Something real.

Something Shane had taken for granted.

“This sucks.” Carponti swore and laughed as some of the cards fell out of his hand. “We should take a picture of the two of us and send it back to the guys. Two fucking gimps trying to play cards. They’d laugh their asses off.” He slapped an ace of spades on the table. “Besides, I know Nikki would never cheat on me. I was simply pointing out that the important equipment made it home.”

Guess that was the end of that sensitive moment. Shane took the hint as relief prickled over his skin. “Does she still like her job with CID?”

“She loves it. They have her working on some missing weapons cases here on base. CID thinks it’s linked with organized crime out of Dallas and she has to work with the feds, but she’s doing great.”

Shane sighed, glad that Carponti was talking at least a little bit. “How’re you sleeping?”

Carponti shrugged and swore as he dropped two more cards onto the sheet covering Shane’s legs. “I don’t. At least not well. They gave me some pretty powerful sleeping pills, but if I plan on waking up the next morning, I can’t take them … Not if I’ve already taken my pain pills. I almost made it through the entire series of
Sopranos
. Only a few episodes left.”

Shane scratched his neck with the cards. “I haven’t slept for shit since I’ve been home, either. Fucking nightmares.” He couldn’t tell Carponti about his horrible dream. Just the thought of whispering the dreams out loud sent a creeping sensation down Shane’s spine. A fleeting shadow trailed across Carponti’s eyes. Just a hint and then it
was gone again.

Shane frowned as he said, “How much
do
you sleep a night?”

“Couple hours at a shot. It sucks because I’m always drifting off right as it’s time to get up for PT. And Nikki won’t let me miss a single appointment.”

Once upon a time, PT had meant physical
training
to them. Now that acronym stood for physical
therapy
. He used to enjoy PT, running down Battalion Avenue, the rhythmic sound of cadence vibrating off his ribs as formations ran by. Now? Now PT was just one more thing to endure. One more thing that had changed in both of their lives. Silence stretched between them as they sorted their cards.

Carponti tossed his hand onto the table, faceup. “You were right, this was a stupid idea. I’ll bring checkers next time. Maybe Connect Four or Chutes and Ladders. Remember that game? I ought to be able to manage that.”

Shane shrugged and tapped the cards together, returning them to their box. The image of Carponti with the rifle barrel in his mouth burned against his retinas. The words were out before he could stop them. “Are you talking to someone?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Carponti frowned, his mouth pulling down into a tight line beneath the red beard as he took the cards from Shane.

Shane dragged his hand over his face. “You know, about adjusting and all that.”

“That’s really rich coming from someone who hasn’t gotten out of bed in six weeks. I thought you knew me better than that.” Irritation snapped across Carponti’s face—sudden anger clouding his features. He threw the pack of cards at Shane’s chest. “Fuck you. Psychoanalyze someone else.”

The door slammed behind him, leaving Shane alone with the awkward
embarrassment of his thoughts. Maybe he was the one who needed to talk to someone. Who was he kidding? He
was
having a hard time. Nothing in his life had prepared him to be so dependent on others. He’d fended for himself for as long as he could remember because his mom hadn’t been there for him at all. Shane had joined the army when he’d been a senior in high school, leaving behind the trailer park and all of his mother’s random men.

Even in Ranger School when he’d broken his leg, he hadn’t really been dependent. Being forced to sit out on the training had sucked, but it hadn’t been anything like this, where he needed help taking a piss. Oh wait, he couldn’t do that because of that fucking tube they insisted on leaving in his dick.

He grunted and scrubbed his face with his hand, the stubble on his chin itching like there was no tomorrow. “Oh fuck.”

He’d forgotten. How the hell had he forgotten that his catheter was coming out today? He had deliberately avoided thinking about what came next. Oh, he wanted the damn tube out of his dick, but the part where Jen wrapped her hand around his cock and … No, he couldn’t think about that. Please let it be someone else. Somehow it would be less humiliating if it was a complete stranger handling his goods.

He closed his eyes as the image took form in his mind, the faintest hint of fantasy attached to it. His blood was pounding. He was afraid to look down and see if he’d pitched a tent in his pants. Between the drugs and the catheter, he wasn’t even sure he could get an erection anymore, but he damn sure didn’t want to test that theory today.

He could deal with this. It was just a medical procedure, right? No big deal.

It was a very big deal.

Because Jen wasn’t just some nurse. At some point between their long-ago kiss and her constant tending to him, she’d stopped being just a nurse and had become something so much more. She was someone he missed when she wasn’t around. Someone he wanted to wrap in his arms and protect. He couldn’t pinpoint the moment it had happened and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He had nothing to offer. No home. No way to find one until he was out of the hospital. Hell, he couldn’t even walk on his own.

It didn’t mean he didn’t care.

It just meant she was even more off-limits than she’d ever been before. It also meant he needed to find a way to get things back to being strictly business. Even though that was the last thing he wanted.