Love Me

by Olivia Cunning

  “Yeah,” Owen said. “Fuck her.” He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed thoughtfully. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked Chad when his mouth was free.

  “A touch of blue balls, but other than that, I’m feeling fine.”

  “Must be the morphine,” Owen said, shaking his head.

  But Lindsey knew Chad hadn’t had any morphine. Not since she’d met him.

  When Joan and James returned about an hour later, the three trapped together in the hospital room had long since finished their sandwiches—Lindsey had forced herself to eat Josie’s sub, even though she was now uncomfortably full—and were avoiding talking about Josie, Chad’s injuries, Lindsey’s still undetermined baby daddy, and the state of Owen’s now defunct band by making inane small talk.

  “I think I can sleep now,” Chad said.

  “It’s good for you,” his mom said, fluffing his pillow and rubbing his shoulder, then his face, his forehead. “I had a nice little nap back at the hotel and feel almost human again.”

  “By little she means ten minutes,” James said. “I had to pretend to be sleeping to keep her from coming back up here to bother you.”

  “She is quite a bother,” Chad said, but he grinned lovingly at his mother.

  “Where’s Josie?” Mom asked. “I thought for sure she’d be here by now.”

  Chad licked his lips and shot his brother a look of warning. “She had to leave early. Something important came up.”

  “What could possibly be more important than you?” Mom asked.

  Exactly, Lindsey thought.

  “The world does not revolve around me, Mom.”

  “Of course, it does,” she said without missing a beat.

  “You’re going to drive him insane,” James predicted.

  “I’d do anything for either of my boys. Anything,” Joan said.

  “Can you get me out of this dump?” Chad asked.

  Lindsey doubted it was a good idea for him to leave the hospital early, but if that was what he wanted, she was sure Joan could figure out a way to make it happen.

  “You know,” Joan said, focusing her attention on Lindsey. “I think maybe you came around at exactly the right time. I’m going to need some help taking care of Chad until he gets back on his feet.”

  “Foot,” Chad said.

  Joan rolled her eyes. “He’s always been a handful.”

  “Owen is worse.” Chad pointed at his brother.

  Owen nodded. “He’s right. I am.”

  “I’ll help in any way I can,” Lindsey said.

  “I don’t want anyone taking care of me,” Chad said. “Ever.”

  “Just until you’re back on your feet,” Joan said, patting his shoulder.

  “Foot,” he corrected again, this time a bit more tersely. “I don’t need your help.”

  “If you can’t accept our help, then you’re staying in the hospital,” Joan said with finality.

  Chad sighed. “Fine. Lindsey can give me baths, but that’s the only help I’ll accept.”

  Lindsey licked her lips, flushing at the thought of seeing Chad naked. She was going to make a terrible nurse. But she did want to help. And not only with his baths.

  “She’s good at taking care of people,” Owen said. “I’ve been so spoiled since she moved in with me, I won’t know what to do with myself when she finds a place of her own.”

  So, he’d noticed that she tried to make his life easier? She smiled. Maybe she had a chance with Owen after all.

  “Good thing I’ll be there to keep you company,” Chad said.

  “You’re moving in with me?” Owen asked. “But I thought—”

  “Hey, I’m not the kind of loser who lives with his parents until he’s forty,” Chad said. “I’m the kind who lives with his brother for life.”

  “For life?” Owen squeaked.

  Joan squeezed Chad’s shoulder. “Chad, I’m not sure that’s the best place for you. There are all those stairs.”

  “We can make a place for him in the downstairs den,” Lindsey said, and then realizing she’d overstepped her bounds, she backpedaled. “I mean, if that’s okay with Owen.”

  “The den is tiny,” Owen said. “I’m not sure a bed will fit in there.”

  “A twin bed will.” She’d already measured it, thinking the den might be their son’s future bedroom before she’d known that Owen wasn’t his father.

  “But we have so much more space, Chad,” Joan said. “It makes more sense—”

  “Nothing in my life makes sense right now,” Chad said. “I only know I’d feel more at home at Owen’s place. I did do most of the work fixing it up while he was off playing rock star with his friends.”

  “Not most of the work,” Owen protested, but then he chuckled. “Okay, you did do most of the work, but not all of it.”

  “You did install that toilet paper holder in the powder room,” Chad said.

  “The crooked one?” Lindsey asked. It wasn’t crooked, but teasing Owen was always fun.

  “It’s not crooked.” But his grin was.

  Lindsey decided that living with both Mitchell brothers—the sweet one and the savory one—would be an adventure worth experiencing.

  “We’d better get home,” she said to Owen. “We have a lot to prepare for Chad’s arrival.”

  “Aren’t you still active duty?” Dad asked.

  “I never turned in my reenlistment papers, so as of the fifteenth, I’ll be a civilian.”

  “A veteran,” Owen said, slapping Chad’s shoulder and beaming with pride.

  “Could you reenlist?” Mom asked. “I mean, if you wanted to?”

  “Sure. But they’d probably stick me behind a desk.” Chad shook his head. “No thanks.”

  “I wish someone would stick me behind a desk,” Lindsey said. “I could use a job.” Any job.

  “You have a job,” Chad said. “Taking care of me.”

  She’d happily do that for free. “That’s not a job, it’s a privilege.”

  Chad rolled his eyes. “You won’t be saying that for long.”

  Just for as long as he needed her. Which she hoped was a long time.

  Chapter Six

  His mother was hovering again. Chad loved the woman dearly, but he wasn’t a child, and she seemed to think his injuries made him as helpless as a babe. Maybe he should be grateful for the small yet repeated annoyance of her trying to do everything for him. It served to light a fire under his ass to get out of that fucking bed and on with his life—even if he had no idea what that life would look like even a month down the road. He didn’t have time to vex about an uncertain future when his present felt so ambiguous.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t feel better if you told me how you wound up injured?” Mom asked for the fiftieth time in five days. She leaned over him and fluffed his pillow for the fiftieth time in five minutes.

  For whatever reason, she wanted all the gory details of how he’d ended up a worthless cripple, but he didn’t want to think about the incident, much less talk about it. During his deployment, he’d become an expert at blocking dark thoughts, frightening thoughts, distressing thoughts, because a clear head allowed him to complete his missions. But he was also finding that talent—that blessing—to compartmentalize and focus worked well for him in not thinking about the explosion, about the fear of what he’d thought was certain death, about the pain of being crushed. That skill allowed him to push aside the horror of being trapped, the helplessness of watching one of his own bleed out just beyond his reach, the heaviness of Jawa—the bomb-sniffing wonder—draped over his chest when the dog had crawled over to protect him and had delivered a parting lick to his Chad’s face before taking his final breath. He could even avoid thinking about the confusion about how he’d been cut free—since he’d been blissfully unconscious for that part—and even the rawness of Josie’s rejection. He could shut it all away except when he slept or when some unthinking person who supposedly cared about him tried to flush it all to the surf
ace by asking him about it. His dad and Owen had taken his first refusal to share his ordeal to heart and hadn’t asked again, but his mother, God bless her, wouldn’t let it rest. And that was why he still hadn’t told her why Josie was too busy to visit. He didn’t want to think about it. About any of it.

  “I’m sure I still don’t want to talk,” he said. “Is it time for PT yet?”

  “You just got back.”

  But he couldn’t stand lying in that bed. He needed to get up, move his body, stride forward even if he couldn’t walk yet. He’d become completely fixated on his physical recovery, because that was something he could control. He could trust himself to make small yet significant gains in his rehabilitation. The horrifying shit in his head that tried, and repeatedly failed, to drag him down would stay buried in there for as long as he lived, because he doubted that he’d survive facing the trauma. Learning to live without a leg? He could do that. The physical pain would leave him when his body recovered. Knowing that a nineteen-year-old kid and a brave, brilliant, selfless dog had died because Chad had stupidly driven over a trip wire? He couldn’t live with that. The psychological devastation would truly cripple him if he gave his feelings a chance to surface. Even now he had to blink back a sudden rush of emotion and take a deep breath, push the thoughts his mother’s question had brought slamming into the forefront of his mind back into the dark corner he kept them contained in.

  He had to get out of this fucking place. He had nothing to do but think—or force himself not to think—except when he was in physical therapy. He was currently working on transferring from a bed to a wheelchair and from a wheelchair to the toilet or a chair. He knew they wouldn’t let him out until he could at least do that. The muscle tear in his right rotator cuff prevented him from using both arms and severely hindered his progress. His PT said he was making remarkable strides and marveled at Chad’s infallible determination, but Chad was sure he could do better—miraculously heal faster—if he pushed himself harder.

  Unable to stand lying in bed for another second, he forced his body upright using his remaining core strength, cringing as the tightening of his abdominal muscles pulled on his cracked rib. Watching beside his bed, his mother cringed even more than he did.

  “Are you sure you don’t want pain medicine, sweetheart?” she asked.

  “I told you no,” he snapped, even though he knew she was just worried about him and couldn’t stand to see him suffer. He shifted to sit on the side of the bed, using a remote to lower its height so that his foot could just touch the floor.

  Because one arm was now trapped in a sling—to prevent him from using it—he had only one arm to give him the leverage required to stand. That motion also required a lot of core strength and also pulled on that hindrance of a cracked rib, but he managed to get his foot under his body and stood, wobbling precariously before finally finding his off-center of gravity.

  His mother actually clapped. What lowly state did a grown-ass man have to be in for someone to clap because he managed to stand?

  “Mom,” he said, shaking his head. “Really?”

  She came around the bed to hug him before she drew away, reached up, and patted his cheek. “I’m just so proud of you.”

  He could see that pride expressed in her sparkling blue eyes. At least she hadn’t cried this time like she had after they’d removed his catheter and he’d peed in the potty like a big boy. That bag of piss hanging from the end of his bed for anyone—including one particularly beautiful angel he was missing today—to see had been all the motivation he’d needed to reach that little milestone.

  Chad stood beside the bed for a long moment trying to find the courage to hop. There was something about not having a backup leg should he fail that made his heart race at the very idea of his one and only foot leaving the ground. So, he just stood there until his stump began to ache from the blood pooling in the still healing tissue. They assured him that his circulation would adjust with time, but until the swelling issues remedied themselves, he wouldn’t be fitted for a prosthetic. The flap of skin and muscle they’d wrapped around the end of his femur was still too tender to support a device anyway, but he wanted one. More than anything. He wanted the freedom a prosthetic offered.

  His cellphone rang, and Mom picked it up from the bedside table. “Who do you know from Minnesota?” she asked.

  Emerson’s father again. He couldn’t talk to him. Couldn’t tell him that his son was dead because Chad had made a mistake. He’d listened to the first choked-up message Mr. Emerson had left but couldn’t force himself to play back the other half-dozen voice mails he’d left since.

  “No one,” he lied. “Let it go to voice mail.”

  The ringing stopped, and Mom set his phone back on the tray.

  “You can’t keep avoiding people, Chad,” she said.

  Yeah, he could.

  “I’m not,” he lied again.

  “You could at least let your friends visit. They want to see you.”

  “I don’t want to see anyone until I can walk,” he said. And maybe not even then. He dropped back onto the bed. “Is Lindsey coming today?” He did want to see her. She was the only person he knew who saw him for what he was now and didn’t compare him to what he had been before. She also didn’t harass him about what he planned to do with his future. He hadn’t the slightest inkling about where his life was headed next and didn’t care to be reminded of that fact.

  “I think she plans to drive down after her job interview,” Mom said.

  “She’s really trying to find her way, isn’t she?” Chad said.

  “I think she’s afraid people will think the worst of her, but she’s a real sweetheart. I wish Owen would give her a chance.” Mom smiled. “They’d make a nice little family together. I think she’d be happy as a stay-at-home mom.”

  Chad wasn’t so sure that would be enough for her, but he didn’t pressure her about her future plans either. They were both content dealing with their troubles one day at a time.

  “You just want a grandbaby,” Chad accused with a grin.

  Mom grinned back. “Can’t wait.”

  The yearning in her expression broke his heart. What would she do if Lindsey found a future that didn’t involve them?

  Mom was still in the dark about Owen being off the hook as the baby’s father. It felt weird to keep secrets from her. It wasn’t that she was an unaccepting person, but she was a notorious mama bear. He imagined Josie would get an up-close and personal view of Mom’s carefully hidden claws and teeth when she learned that Josie had dumped her eldest son. He knew that wasn’t fair to Josie. If she didn’t love him, she shouldn’t have to force herself to stay with him—to give up the life she wanted—just because no other woman would ever want him again. He shoved that thought out his mind. He refused to feel sorry for himself. Even though he’d always wanted a family of his own, it didn’t mean he was entitled to one. If he was destined to live a life alone, he’d just surround himself with dogs. He liked them better than people anyway. They never judged. Their devotion was unconditional. And they couldn’t ask him uncomfortable questions or make him feel guilty for keeping secrets.

  “Are you fit for company?” a familiar deep voice said from near the partially open door.

  “Kelly!” Mom said, rushing over to hug the son of her heart.

  His hair had grown even longer since the last time Chad had seen him. The thick black mass fell past the middle of his chest now. Chad knew how proud Kellen was of his hair—part of his Cherokee heritage—but he couldn’t resist tossing a barb in his direction.

  “With those flowing locks of yours, how often do you get mistaken for a woman from behind?”

  Kellen gave Mom an extra squeeze before releasing her and turning to present his backside to the room. “With this ass?” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder in his butt’s direction and smirked. “Never.”

  Chad laughed and extended a hand in his direction. “Mom was supposed to tell you that I didn’t w
ant any visitors.”

  “I did tell him,” Mom said, “but for once I’m glad he didn’t listen.” A bit of the worry that had creased her brow since he’d first seen her a week ago eased. She was probably sick of him grousing at her for caring too much.

  “Owen’s not here today?” Kellen asked. He licked his lips, looking equal parts relieved and sad.

  “He went to Houston to see his girlfriend,” Mom said. “He’ll be sorry he missed you.”

  Kellen looked anything but convinced.

  “I wasn’t expecting you to be standing already,” Kellen said. “Should have known nothing would keep you down.”

  Chad’s swelling leg was protesting his continued posture, but now that Kellen had mentioned it, he wasn’t about to return to the bed. Mom recognized his predicament. She pushed his wheelchair around the bed. “I was just about to take him outside for some fresh air,” she said.

  Chad felt every muscle go rigid. He hated being taken places, but until he got his arm out of the sling, he’d have to deal with being pushed in the wheelchair rather than get around by himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have refused when Mom had suggested they rent a motorized wheelchair so he could maneuver on his own, but that had seemed an even worse option at the time. “Why don’t you take him instead?”

  “I’d be happy to,” Kellen said. “If that’s okay with him.”

  Kellen’s gaze locked with his, and Chad loved him for not assuming he’d agree. Loved him for a lot of reasons. Chad was glad he’d come no matter how much he’d insisted he didn’t want to see his friends. Kellen wasn’t just a friend. He was family.

  “Is it nice out?”

  Kellen chuckled. “Sunny and Texas hot.”

  Just how Chad liked it.