She turned away toward the back of the property and did her best not to tense up when she saw Jason’s big red truck parked in front of the nearest building. Home. He was home. Good to know? Maybe? What was she doing here?
Angela dug her cell phone out of her purse and turned it over and over while she evaluated her choices. She scrolled through her contacts and found Mae Ward.
“What do I say?” Angela muttered. Hi. I’m outside your son’s house. Nothing reasonable came to mind. Either she was losing her grip on words, which would be concerning since she’d centered her whole life around them, or this was a terrible plan. Half a second from reversing out of the spot, she glanced out her window to see one of the joggers walking toward her. This was where panic should set in.
Then he got close enough and she recognized his face. Jason. And he was the one with the prosthesis.
A dozen different puzzle pieces all clicked into line to make a new picture.
Was this the secret he’d been holding on to?
“Hey, J, wait up!”
Mira Peters was jogging down the sidewalk.
It was a bright, sunny July day, not a storm cloud in sight.
The lightning bolt struck anyway.
He hadn’t called because he was dating someone else.
And he’d had no trouble telling Mira about his amputation, so it was clear she was a better choice for him.
Escape.
That was what she needed and right now, even though Jason had turned to glance at Mira.
The only thing weirder than finding your creative writing professor parked outside your house would have to be watching her burn rubber out of the parking lot without giving any explanation.
Fine. She’d roll down her window, spit out her advice on the graphic artist, lie through her teeth about some fabulous adventure that she had to get to immediately and drive sedately away. Almost like a normal person.
She could manage that.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
GETTING UP TO run had been a real struggle that Saturday morning, but Jason knew he’d done the right thing when they jogged into the parking lot at Concord Court. He’d worn the prosthesis for one training run, but today was his first attempt in the real world. And he’d made it.
Even though he’d been scared he would hold the rest of the group back, he’d finished the run. He knew Mira had shortened the distance, and she’d kept the pace steady but slow for him. In the beginning, he’d almost dropped out. He wasn’t going to be the weight for this team. They weren’t training for anything specific, still, they were a team. Then Marcus and Peter had dropped behind him, leaving him solidly in the middle. If he faltered, they’d catch him. He’d done the same for others throughout a long military career. Now, when he needed support, they’d stepped up. He’d been determined to make this run count.
He’d never been so glad to see Concord Court in his life, but he’d done it.
And not one of his team had said a thing about it. Whether they had doubts or not, they expected him to make it.
That was the way it should be. Without the prosthesis, no one would have patted his head for completing an easy run. He didn’t want any special treatment that morning, either.
The only words spoken had come from Sean. “Same time tomorrow?” Then they’d all dispersed.
Jason’s knee burned. Sweat dampened his hair. Sunburn was tickling along the tops of his shoulders and across the bridge of his nose, but he was more himself than he had been in a while.
And then he saw the car parked next to his and recognized the driver.
Angela was here, watching him. The shock on her face was pretty much what he’d expected when he’d stepped outside to run with the group for the first time. Training at his prosthetist’s office had been easy enough. He’d worked with the leg and had a few adjustments made, and he’d run and run on the never-ending treadmill. The comfortable, reliable surface and the power of his new leg had given him a boost of confidence.
When he’d fallen in with Mira, Sean, Marcus and Peter, he’d done so silently. If they’d been shocked by the appearance of his leg, they hadn’t said a thing. He hadn’t asked. He’d put his head down, and he’d started to run. Keeping up after so long out of the game had taken every bit of energy he had.
Angela’s shock was hard to ignore.
With Mira calling him, he was glad to have the chance to turn away. Otherwise, he and Angela might have been locked in a staring contest until heatstroke did them both in.
“Yeah?” he asked as he pulled his soaked T-shirt off his shoulders. At some point, he’d acclimate to the heat and humidity, but right now, southern Florida was a test.
“I wanted to say thanks for joining us. Usually, I have to nag those guys to show up, but once they knew you’d be here, they were all grins and happy Saturday vibes.”
She wiped wet strands of hair away from her face and then shook her finger. “You have to keep running. I don’t know how long the good mood will last, but it’s so much easier when I don’t have to drag any dead weight, too.”
Jason dipped his chin down. “Really? You’re telling me that today was a positive, happy run?” He hadn’t heard any complaints, but even the worst run could be tolerated for the right reason. That sometimes happened when the crew knew someone needed them. And he’d needed his new crew today.
“Yes. You see what I mean?” She tilted her head down and mirrored his stance. “Would I lie to you?”
“In a heartbeat, but thanks.” He grinned and squeezed her shoulder. “I needed all of it. Stepping out with the leg will get easier. It’s nice to have you with me right now.”
She stared down at it, and he braced himself. Whatever she said, it would be well intended, even if it punched a hole in his wispy confidence. “Honestly, it’s part of you, just like any other. Anybody disagrees, you send them to me.”
“I can take care of myself, but thank you. No need to throw a punch on my behalf.” Jason checked on Angela’s car. She hadn’t moved. She’d closed her mouth, so she was no longer caught midgasp, but he still had no idea what she was thinking.
“No punches. More like education. I could give a lesson on how evolution changes defense systems to prepare for new conditions. This is sort of the same. You’re adapting and you’ll come out stronger on the other side because of it.” She casually shot a side-eye at Angela. “What’s that about? Is it juicy? I like juicy.”
Jason laughed. “I’m not sure.”
“You’ll let me know, though, if it’s something good, right? I live for this kind of stuff.” Mira had tangled her fingers together under her chin to beg.
“I most definitely will not tell you anything, especially if it’s juicy.” Jason shook his head as her face fell. Mira narrowed her eyes at him and then headed for the parked car. “Hey, Dr. Simmons, how are you? Long time, no see.”
Angela shoved her sunglasses to the top of her head. “I’m doing well, Mira. Out on my way to a tourist trap, and I remembered Jason was here. I wanted to give him the name of a graphic artist who might be able to help him with his kids’ book. The story he wrote is adorable, but his drawing...” Angela wrinkled her nose. “I guess you saw it, though. You know what I’m talking about. Still, it’s a writing class, not a drawing one, so I was impressed he gave it a shot.”
Mira sent him a sideways glance, but he had no hints to give her. Why would he be showing off his creative writing assignment?
“No, he hasn’t shared any of his writing with us. We talked about the class. I told him he definitely needed to get his work into the literary magazine. I’m going to be a science teacher, but my mother singlehandedly covered the first print run when my poem came out. When the aliens arrive, they’ll be finding copies of that edition of the magazine all over the world. Every auntie in all four corners of the globe got multiples.”
Angela smiled and Jason remembered how much he enjoyed seeing that. Now that he’d seen shock, he realized how much he needed that smile.
“Fame is something we all have to learn to cope with, Mira. I’m glad your mother spread the word.” She braced her arm on the car door and then leaned back quickly.
“Well, I should be going. It’s my second cousin’s birthday, and we’re all headed out to the arcade to celebrate this afternoon.” Mira pinched her tank top and pulled it away. “A shower is required.” Then she raised a hand to wave goodbye and jogged down the sidewalk. Jason wasn’t certain which townhouse was hers, but she was on the north side of the property somewhere.
Angela watched her go for entirely too long. Was she killing time? He clenched his shirt in one hand and crossed his arms over his chest. Whatever came next, it was her move now.
“Want to tell me what you’re doing here?” Jason asked. “I got the impression you didn’t have much to say to me after our dance.” His story had been his attempt at an apology. Had she gotten that?
Eventually she shifted back to face him. “I guess I wasn’t sure what to say since I didn’t know what the problem was, Jason.” She shot a quick glance down at his prosthesis. Obviously they were now on the same page. “Owen Langford. He’s the professor who teaches several graphic arts classes. At least one of them focuses on computer-aided animation. If there’s something to your story, you need better illustrations. He could help. That’s all. I don’t know if you want to go any further with your writing, but you’ll need better graphics. He can at least connect you to a student who needs an easy class project. You might get cute spiders for free that way.” She faced the steering wheel. “So, that’s it. Glad I ran into you. Gotta run.”
She started to roll her window up. Taking a chance, Jason stepped closer to her car and put his hand on the window. Lucky for him, she stopped it before it mashed his fingers. “That’s what you came here to tell me? It had nothing to do with your promise to my mother to convince me to give parasailing a try? Now you obviously understand why you’re doomed with that promise.”
She snorted. “What? No way. You were never interested in going with me.” She motioned with a weird wave. “And I get it. Everything has changed.”
What did that mean? The only thing that was different was now she knew about his amputation.
Which might explain why he couldn’t be the guy she needed him to be.
Not anymore.
“Come inside. I do need a shower and to get off this leg, but we can talk after.” He wanted to plant himself in her path and refuse to move, but the burn on his knee was building. Time to sit.
She immediately shook her head. “Uh, no, I’ve got a tour lined up. It cost a pretty penny, so I can’t miss it. I’ve got to go.”
Had she come by to invite him with her? Man, he wanted that to be the truth.
Deciding to ignore her shocked expression when she’d seen the leg, Jason asked, “What time is the tour?”
Hard to wiggle out of a direct question.
Her eyes darted to the side. Would she lie to him? “Three?” Her answer was definitely a question.
“It’s not quite noon. Come on in.” Jason motioned over his shoulder as he turned to unlock his front door. She’d follow him or she wouldn’t. He needed to know the answer.
When he heard the car door shut behind him, some of the worry eased. However she felt about his leg, the conversation wasn’t quite over yet.
“Want something to drink?” Jason asked as he let her in. “Water is your only choice, but I have plenty of it.” He padded into the kitchen to open the refrigerator, more at ease with Angela than he’d expected. Of course, she’d kept her attention turned firmly away from him every second they’d been together. Not a great sign.
“I didn’t come to interrupt your Saturday plans,” Angela said. Her voice was loud, as if she was covering for nerves by turning everything up in volume.
When she took the bottle from him, he pointed at the hallway. “Here’s my only plan for now. Me. Shower. Can you wait ten minutes?”
She finally nodded, so he hurried into the bathroom, removed the prosthesis and eased into the hot shower. Concord Court had a lot of good amenities. Their walk-in showers with immediate hot water and comfortable benches? Yeah, he’d been converted. Before his time here, he’d expected only fancy people required a seat in the shower. Now he knew it was the only way to live. He could sit and clear his mind. Today, there was only one thing, one person, on his mind.
After a quick towel dry, he grabbed a crutch and found some dry clothes. Before he left his bedroom, he studied his prosthesis. Should he put it back on?
Maybe this was the best way to have a real conversation. He’d yank off the bandages, so to speak, and let the chips fall and throw in another cliché for good measure.
If he’d been left to his own devices in someone’s home for the first time, he might have found good opportunity to study their movie collection or music or anything that was on display. His home had none of that. He’d never seen the reason to build large collections of stuff that would have to follow him wherever he went. But it was time to start building.
There were two pictures on the bookcases flanking the large-screen television. One was of his graduation day from basic training, his father beaming and his mother worried behind a big smile like the one he’d seen in Michelle’s office. The other was a baby picture his mother had given him. She was certain a home without photos was a hotel in disguise, so she’d given him a picture of the two of them at his second birthday party. He was wearing a party hat, but it was listing sideways as if he’d had too much juice to drink.
“You were a cute little boy.” Angela tapped the photo. “I have a picture like that of Greer, too. She hated having that hat on crooked and would repeat ‘ficit, ficit’ until I fixed it. Bossy. We should have guessed she’d grow up to be a lawyer.”
“A gift from my mother. Every time she comes over, she brings something else. The first day, it was the couch, so I’m glad her gifts are getting smaller.” Jason paused behind her and wondered what he should say to get the right conversation rolling. He wanted to demand to know what she thought about his leg or for her to ask all the questions he dreaded or to tell him what she wanted.
All of that was hard. He could pretend he believed she had something planned this afternoon and let them both off the hook.
“Thanks for the recommendation. For the artist. I don’t have any plans to go any further with the book, but it could be a cool gift, something to give back to my mother when she makes good on her threat to deliver all my high school yearbooks here. I don’t know why she kept them in the first place, but I’m sure she wants them out of her retirement sanctuary.”
Jason pointed at the couch. “Do you have time to sit?” He leaned against the crutch and waited. He’d let her pick the direction.
“Sorry to keep you standing,” she muttered and dropped down on the sofa, guilt flickering across her face before she wiped it away.
Sorry. As if she was causing the amputee an imposition by rudely standing in his presence?
Irritation set his jaw. That was a glimmer of the worst-case scenario, that guilt over inconveniencing him.
Angela nervously cleared her throat. “Kids’ story. That’s the first time any student has turned one in. I’m not sure it really met my grading criteria, but you definitely deserve points for creativity.” She ran a hand over her forehead. “How did you come up with the story?”
“A spider who is missing a leg and knocks over everything in his path?” Jason grunted as he sat down and caught the crutch before it hit the lamp on the table beside him. The shower had helped with the irritated skin, but the throb was still there. “Hard to say where the inspiration came from.”
He thought she would smile, but she didn’t.
“Talking about
my amputation is hard for me, so I don’t do it any more than I have to. Dancing is pretty much the same, because the chance that I’ll fall is better than even odds. I’m sorry you were there to see it. The spider story is a kind of apology.” Jason rubbed his knee until he saw the way her eyes were locked to his hand. Drawing attention to his amputation was not the way to go.
“I’d like to know more.” Angela crossed her arms over her chest. “If you’ll tell me.”
He liked how she phrased the request. His answer was his choice alone.
“Tactical support. That was my job in the army. Basically, I moved things. There was nothing all that glamorous about it, but wars run on supplies.”
When she nodded her understanding, he relaxed a fraction. She wasn’t bored. She wasn’t asking questions to fill the silence. She wasn’t making him into super soldier. Angela was waiting for his story.
“There’s no big battle that I won or life that I saved. The truck that I was in crashed after we were fired on and equipment smashed my lower left leg into bits. The only way to save my life was to amputate.” Jason scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve been trying to put my life back together again ever since. Landed here in Miami with my mother for a nurse. Enrolled at Sawgrass. You know the rest.”
Angela stared hard at her knees for a long minute. “Where were you?”
Jason braced himself. “Afghanistan.”
She nodded again. “Okay.”
Jason studied her. He didn’t see curiosity or worry or fear or anything.
Then a loud sniffle ripped through the quiet room, and she pinched her nose closed. Was she crying?
“Sorry. I’m just so glad you’re here.” Then she blinked rapidly. “If you ever want to tell me more, you can. I know it’s a lot to carry, and I know so little about military life that my help won’t be worth much, but I will do what I can.” Then she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and squeezed.
A Soldier Saved--A Clean Romance Page 18