Stitched Up Heart (Combat Hearts Book 1) (6 page)

“Still bleed like a motherfucker if a guy manages to shoot you with an arrow,” Chris said.

“I know, but I can’t turn a guy away.”

Chris gave a curt chin lift. “Yeah.”

They worked together without saying anything more. Jase appreciated Chris’s willingness to help him out with the archery classes. Most of the other volunteers were willing to help on the trips because they got to go out and hunt or fish, but they didn’t like the mundane part of the business. Maybe if his funding came through he’d be able to actually hire some guys to help out on a regular basis.

“Trucks are coming up the drive,” Chris said.

Jase and Chris introduced themselves to each guy as they arrived. Ryan introduced himself as the extra.

“You understand you’re going to have to share equipment with your friend, right? I usually limit beginner classes to six.”

“That’s no problem. And I really appreciate you working me in. The doc at the VA said my paperwork should be faxed to your office no later than Wednesday.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

They walked over to the group and Jase began his introduction. “Okay, let’s get started. Welcome to V.E.T. Adventures. This is an introduction to using a hunting bow, so when you are able to go on a hunting trip, you’ll actually bag a kill. Chris is going to help me demonstrate the basics: stance, proper posture, aiming, and release. Everyone here went through Combat Arms Training so it should all be familiar. Are there any questions before we begin?”

“Why a bow and not a rifle?” Robert, one of the students, asked.

“Really it comes down to preference. I think a bow requires more skill, more patience, and more concentration. Much harder to bring down a deer with an arrow than it is with a rifle. Anything else?”

When no one responded, Jase took them over to the small tables set up about eighty feet from the targets. He walked them through the different parts of the bow before he had Chris demonstrate the proper stance.

Jase stood close behind him to adjust his support arm. “Hey now, you just got you some last night,” Chris said.

“Shut it, asshole.”

The group spent the next hour trying to hit the circle targets pinned to the hale bales. Jase kept an eye out for when guys became frustrated. One guy, a below-the-knee amputee, seemed to be having the hardest time.

“Hey, what’s your name again?” Jase asked.

“Rob.” He dropped his arms with the bow and arrow still gripped tightly in his hands.

“Okay Rob, tell me what’s throwing you.”

“Everything. My balance is off and it’s throwing everything else off.”

“How long have you had your prosthetic?” Jase asked. He didn’t mince words. Ignoring the ugly baby didn’t make it less ugly.

“I got fitted about a month ago,” Rob said.

“And how long did it take you to learn to walk after you healed up?”

“Shit, I was in rehab for eighteen months.”

“Right. It took you eighteen months to learn how to walk again, so you’re not going to learn archery in an hour. It’s a new skill. It’s going to take practice, just like anything else. Don’t get frustrated. You get frustrated and it’s just going to mess you up even more. What service were you in?”

“Marines.”

“Okay, so this should sound familiar. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.”

Rob smirked. “Yeah, it’s familiar.”

“Same principle. Focus. Find your balance. Take your time.”

Rob closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let it out. Jase stepped back to give him room. Rob shifted his weight between his prosthetic and his leg, finding his center of gravity. He raised his arms and pulled back on the string. Jase could see the moment, on the fall of Rob’s exhale, when he released the arrow. It flew forward and landed on the outer ring of the target with a dull
thunk
.

He clapped Rob on the shoulder. “Good job, man.”

“Thanks.” Rob picked up another arrow, a small smile on his face. Jase walked down the line, leaving Rob to his victory. Small as it may be, for a lot of guys those small victories were all that kept them going some days.

By the end of the class, each student was hitting the target four out of five times. It wasn’t until they were putting the equipment away that he noticed the extra guy, Ryan, hadn’t been using an arm guard.

Jase grabbed Ryan’s wrist and turned it to look at his forearm, noticing the extensive scars that ran from the back of his hand all the way up to his bicep. “Man, your arm is going to be black tomorrow. It’s already bruising. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Ryan ran his fingers over his forearm as Jase released his wrist. “I don’t have a lot of feeling from my elbow to my wrist because of the scarring. I honestly didn’t know it was happening.”

“Sorry, man. I would have fixed something up if I had known.”

“Really, it’s no problem. Although my physical therapist is probably going to ream me a new one tomorrow.”

“He a dick?” Jase asked.

Ryan laughed. “It’s a she and she’s gorgeous. Usually nice as can be, but I’ve seen her lay into guys before when they weren’t sticking to their program. She scares me a little. She used to deploy with Special Ops guys and doesn’t put up with anyone’s bullshit.”

Jase smiled. “Well, if she gives you too much shit, give her my number and I’ll take the brunt of it for you.”

“Ha! Don’t think I won’t. I wasn’t kidding when I said she scares me.”

After the students left, Jase and Chris returned the hay bales to the metal shed, stacked the equipment on the racks, and locked everything up. Chris took off with a wave to go back to his place, and Jase headed to his house on the other side of the property.

Jase turned off the ignition and sat in his truck. Even while running the class, he couldn’t get Bree out of his head. Every breeze seemed to carry a hint of her perfume, the only trace she’d left behind. He tapped his phone against his thigh, thinking about calling his brother, a cop on the Haven Springs police force. He felt kind of stupid doing it. He could just imagine how that conversation would go.
Hey, man can you put out an APB for a woman I took home last night? I only got her first name.
His brother would never let him live that down. Plus, what could Jase really tell him? He knew her name, knew it was short for Brianna. Knew she had long, red hair that felt like silk running through his fingers. Knew her sapphire-blue eyes sparkled when she laughed and got dark when she was turned on.

He hit the steering wheel.
Fuck
. He couldn’t believe she had just taken off that morning. He yanked the keys out of the ignition and slammed out of his truck. He had nothing to give his brother. Nothing.

B
ree let out a small moan, rolling her hips. She whimpered, trying to reach fulfillment. The alarm sounded and her eyes opened abruptly. Her arousal faded along with the erotic dream teasing the edges of her subconscious.

Dammit!

She slapped the snooze button and groaned. The unfulfilled orgasm lingered, leaving her edgy, frustrated, and downright grumpy. She’d dreamed of Jase every night for the past week, always waking just before climax. She couldn’t get him out of her mind. To make matters worse, the memory of his hot mouth trailing down her body would suddenly burst into her mind and she would get hot and flushed. Patients saw her reddened cheeks and asked her if she was feeling well. She thought about driving by his house, but she didn’t want to be that girl. How embarrassing would it be if she showed up and he didn’t remember? Or had another girl there?

Her phone binged on her nightstand. She glared at the offending device. Chad had texted every morning since she’d kicked him out.
I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I miss you.
She deleted the text without reading it. Day late and a dollar short, asshat.

With a groan she got out of bed and got ready for work. An hour later she strolled into the physical therapy clinic.

Her first patient of the day was already in the waiting room.

“Morning, Ryan. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

“No worries, Doc. Feel free to delay the abuse as long as you need,” he replied with a grin.

Bree rolled her eyes at his exaggeration. “Don’t be such a baby.”

She stored her bag in the locker and logged on to her computer to see if there were any changes to her schedule. One of her afternoon appointments had cancelled, but a call-in had quickly taken the spot. She sighed and adjusted her neck. There were just too many patients and not enough providers.

She pulled up Ryan’s record to review. Extensive injuries to his left side during an Improvised Explosive Device attack in Iraq had left his arm nearly mutilated. The surgeons had managed to save it, but the damage to the underlying muscle and tissue limited his range of motion. Bree read her notes from his session two weeks ago - his treatment plan was right on track.

She picked up her phone and dialed her assistant’s extension. “Cindy, can you bring Ryan back?”

“Sure, Dr. Marks.”

“Thanks.” She hung up the receiver and covered the table with a new sheet.

“Hey, Ryan. You know the drill.”

“You know, Doc, just once it’d be nice if you had me lie down for a reason other than to torture me.”

Bree patted Ryan on the head. “Oh. That’s sweet you think you could handle me.”

Ryan laughed.

“Let’s see if we can break up some of this scar tissue and increase your range of motion.” She turned his arm over, palm up.

“What the hell is this?” She brushed her thumb over the black and purple bruise covering most of the inside of his forearm.

“Oh, that. Archery.”

“
Oh, that
,” she repeated. “I need more detail. I can’t work on you with this kind of bruising.”

“Why? It’s not like I can feel it.”

Bree sighed in exasperation. “You might not be able to feel it because of the nerve damage, but what I do still affects the underlying muscle and fascia. This is a lot of bruising, which means a lot of trauma happened to the area. What were you doing?”

Ryan sat up. “A buddy of mine invited me to go to an archery class for wounded veterans. It’s part of a prep course to go on a bow-hunting trip. I was a last-minute addition, so they didn’t have enough arm guards for everyone. The guy who was running the training reamed me a new one, if it makes you feel better.”

Bree looked at him for a moment. She could yell at him for being careless, but that would only shut him down. She depended on communication with her patients to determine their pain level and appropriate treatment. And she didn’t want to discourage him from doing something he enjoyed. “Did you like it?”

“Shooting with a bow? Yeah, it was cool. Different than shooting a rifle, you know? Took a lot more concentration.”

“Were you able to straighten your arm all the way or did you have to compensate somehow?”

“I couldn’t straighten it all the way. I kind of had to cock my elbow and lock the muscles around it to hold the bow steady. It was awkward.”

Bree gave Ryan a small nod. “Lay back down; I’ll go easy on you today.”

“Thanks. Sorry, Doc. I even told the guy you were going to yell at me when you saw it.”

“Are you going on a trip soon?”

“I’m not sure. My buddy’s going in two weeks or so. The trips are Thursday through Sunday, so I have to see if I can get off work.”

“What’s the name of the company?”

“Vet Adventures. They organize hunting, fishing, and camping trips. One of the guys running it said their main goal is to get guys back out and be part of a team again, even if it’s just a few days.”

“It sounds like a good program.” Her thumb palpated the inside of his elbow, searching out knotted tissue.

He winced when she found an especially tender spot, but didn’t react otherwise. “I think that’s one of the things I miss most about the Army, you know?”

“What’s that?” she asked.

He turned his head to watch her work his arm. “The camaraderie. Just being with a bunch of guys who get you. They don’t ask stupid questions or want to know how many bad guys you killed. They just get it.”

Bree gave Ryan a small smile. She got it. It was one of the reasons she applied only to military hospitals after she completed her degree.

At the end of his session, she handed Ryan a list of exercises to do at home to help strengthen his shoulder muscles. “Do me a favor? Be more careful next time. Ask for something to protect your arm.”

“I will. Thanks, Doc. See you in two weeks.”