by Susan Stoker
When she paused to take a breath, Dane quickly interjected, “It truly doesn’t bother you that I’m missing part of my arm, does it?”
She looked at him in confusion. “No. Why would it?”
There were a hundred and one reasons that Dane could think of why it would bother her, but if she didn’t already know them, he wasn’t going to inform her of any. “Come here.”
“Where?”
Dane grinned and put his arm on the back of the couch and gestured to his side with his other hand. “Here.”
“Why?”
Dane couldn’t deny that her questions amused him. He wouldn’t have to worry about her keeping her thoughts to herself like a lot of other women did. When she had a question, she asked it. No beating around the bush or hiding what she was feeling or thinking.
“Because I’m tired and I’d like to hold you while we talk…unless it would make you feel uncomfortable.”
She considered his words for a moment then asked, “Is this a prelude to making out and us having sex?”
Dane nearly choked, but kept his composure, barely. “Tonight? No. I’m simply enjoying your company and would like to have you closer while we continue to get to know each other.”
“So not tonight, but maybe later?”
“Yeah, Smalls. If you think you might want to.”
Bryn cocked her head and thought about his answer before saying, “Yeah, I think I might like that.”
“Then come ’ere.”
Relaxing when she moved the few feet over on the couch and settled against him, Dane answered her questions. “I sometimes feel phantom pains. It is a bit weird to hurt and look down and realize it’s all in my head. I have no idea how it works though, sorry. And yeah, Truck saw that I was bleeding out and stuck his fingers right inside the mangle that was my arm and held my artery together until we got someplace safer. A lot of the details about that day are hazy, but I can honestly say, I have no idea how he kept hold of me while we walked. And I’m not sure I want to be someone’s poster child for missing an arm. While I might like a more responsive prosthetic, I’ve found that it’s more comfortable to simply go without it.”
“Wow.”
“Wow, what?”
“I can’t believe you remembered everything I asked,” Bryn told him, relaxing into his side even more.
“You’re not the only smarty-pants around here, Smalls.”
She giggled then slowly moved her arm around his stomach, as if afraid he’d complain.
Dane rested his stump over her arm around him and laid his head back on the couch. “I’ve always been pretty good at remembering things. I’m not a genius, like you, but if someone says it, I tend to be able to recall it.”
“Cool.” Bryn paused, but then said, “I’ll look up the thing about phantom pains and get back to you.”
Dane picked his head up off the couch and leaned over to kiss the top of hers. “Thanks.” After a moment of silence, he asked, “Want to watch TV?”
Bryn shrugged. “If you do.”
“What do you usually do when you get home from work?” Several moments went by, and when she didn’t answer, Dane asked, “Bryn?”
“You were right, you know,” she said weirdly instead of answering his question.
“About what?”
“I’m a freak.”
Dane felt his heart sink. He knew what he’d said would come back to haunt him. “I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s okay. I am. I’m old enough to know it by now. It shouldn’t really bother me anymore.”
“But it does,” Dane said knowingly.
She shrugged. “I eat dinner. Then I’ll look through any interesting books I picked up at the library that day. That could take twenty minutes, or three hours, it all depends how into them I am. Then if I have more questions, I’ll research whatever I’ve been reading on the Internet. Sometimes I get lost in what I’m doing and realize it’s past midnight.”
Dane realized she was answering his question about what she did after work, and didn’t interrupt, but tightened his hold on her, hugging her to him as she continued.
“If nothing interests me at the library, I’ll do crosswords. Or I’ll look at the most recent dissertations posted online at the ProQuest library and decide if I think the research was flawed in some way. Sometimes I’ll email the author and tell him or her what I thought. Every now and then I’ll get into a good discussion with one of the approving professors about the research. I told you before, I don’t need a lot of sleep. My parents had me tested when I was little and it was decided that my brain just never shuts down. That, and I have a mutated hDEC2 gene in my DNA, which has been proven to exist in people who can function on less sleep than the normal population.”
“Cool,” Dane told her honestly.
Bryn’s head came up at that. “Cool?”
“Yeah. Do you know how much that would’ve come in handy when I was in the Army? There were so many nights I was on duty that I struggled to stay awake.”
“You’re just trying to make me feel better for being weird,” Bryn grumbled.
“A little, but, Smalls, you amaze me. So you’re smart? BFD.”
“BFD?” she asked with a frown.
“Good to know I can still teach you some things,” Dane teased. “Big fuckin’ deal. BFD.”
She giggled, and he felt his stomach clench that he’d been able to make her smile when she’d felt so bad.
“I think it’s awesome that you know so much. My friend, Truck, would love hanging out with you.”
“I want to meet him,” Bryn demanded, settling back against Dane. “I want to thank him.”
“He wants to meet you too. He said that he was going to make a trip up here with some of the other guys he works with. My friends.”
“Great.” Her voice was low and unsure.
“What’s wrong?” Dane asked, immediately seeing her unease.
“I don’t usually get along with people. And I’m afraid they’ll act like you did in the store. I always say the wrong thing, I’m too smart, and I don’t want to make you look bad.”
“Smalls, if anything, I’m gonna be the one who looks bad. They’re gonna love you. In fact, if I’m not careful, they’ll try to steal you away right from under my nose. As far as being smart goes, you think I want to date someone who doesn’t know how many ounces are in a gallon?”
“One hundred and twenty-eight.”
“Exactly.” Dane reached up and gently removed the elastic holding Bryn’s hair in a ponytail. He carefully ran his fingers through it until there were no tangles, then he continued to caress her, loving the scent of coconut that came from her hair. “Bryn, how smart you are has nothing to do with what kind of person you are. For instance, I’ve known a lot of really smart terrorists…men who would shoot me or the guys in my platoon on sight without hesitation. Or who take pleasure in coming up with different ways to torture soldiers. On the other hand, I’ve known a few dumb people who were the nicest human beings I’ve ever met. What I care about, and what I like about you, is that you’re generous, you care about people and animals, and you go out of your way to help others, even if they’re assholes to you.”
“Most people don’t agree,” Bryn mumbled into his chest.
“Then they’re the weirdos, Smalls, not you. Look at me.” Dane waited until she lifted her head and met his eyes. “I’m the one in this relationship who should be worried. You’re so out of my league it’s not even funny. I’m a medically retired soldier who only earned an Associate degree because it would look good on paper for the promotion board. I’m scarred and missing a hand. I can’t function well out in public, although I’m working on it. My friends are a group of soldiers who are so super-secret, I couldn’t even tell you where they are right this second. I spent most of the money I saved while deployed to buy this house and I have no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life. But I’ll tell you something. I’ve never wanted someone to overlook all of
that and see me more than I want you to.”
“Dane…”
“Don’t feel bad for what you like to do, Smalls. Don’t let anyone else make you feel bad about it either. Do what feels right and good and to hell with everyone else. Truck and my friends are gonna love you. I’ve already told him all about you, so I’m not just talking out my ass here. Yeah?”
“How do you seem to know just what to say to make me feel normal?”
“I’m just callin’ it like I see it.”
Bryn put her head back on Dane’s chest and squeezed him around the middle. “What do you like to watch at night?”
“I’m partial to documentaries…oh, and Mythbusters.”
“Mythbusters?”
“You haven’t heard of the antics of Jamie and Adam?”
“No.”
“Settle in, sweetheart. You’re in for a treat. Although I have no doubt you’ll already know most of the science involved.”
“There’s science on the show?”
“Yeah, Smalls. There’s a ton of science. It’s what drives the entire show.”
Hours later, Dane woke up. Bryn was lying on his chest sound asleep. They’d shifted on the couch until they were both lying down. Bryn’s legs were tangled with his and her head was lying on his shoulder. One hand was resting over his heart and the other was scrunched up under her body. His arm was hooked over her hip and his good hand was resting over hers on his chest.
He’d nodded off sometime in the middle of the second Mythbusters show, and he could see the TV was now turned off.
Bryn hadn’t left in the middle of the night. She’d turned off the television and made the decision to stay right where she was.
Dane wasn’t a man who believed in love at first sight, but he cared more for the woman lying so still and peaceful on his chest than he had for anyone in his entire life.
He made a vow right then and there to be the kind of man she’d be proud to stand beside. The kind of man she could rely on to stand next to her, not behind or in front of her. She made him feel like nothing was impossible, even for a disabled former soldier with very little formal education, like himself. She was a miracle. His miracle.
Chapter Eleven
One day the following week, Bryn woke up at her usual five-thirty and immediately reached for her phone. Scooting until her back rested against her headboard, she dialed Dane’s number. She’d told him she would research why phantom pains occurred and how they worked, and she had. All week. She’d even finagled a phone call with a doctor who specialized in the rehabilitation of adults who had lost a limb as a result of trauma or disease. The doctor worked at the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago in their amputation and limb deficiency department.
Personally, Bryn thought it was an awful name for a department, but what did she know? Doctor Soriano explained that phantom pain used to be thought of as a psychological issue that stemmed from the person not coming to terms with the loss of a body part, but she further explained that through research it was now recognized as a sensation coming from the spinal cord and brain. She went on to describe the symptoms, causes, which weren’t hard to figure out, and treatments.
Bryn had gone to sleep thinking about Dane and what he might be experiencing and had woken up after having dreamed about him. Not thinking about the time, only talking to Dane about what she’d found out, she dialed his number.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Dane, it’s Bryn. I talked to Doctor Rachna Soriano at the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago, which is the number one rehabilitation hospital in the entire country when it comes to amputations. Anyway, she said that the phantom pain you have in your hand is normal, that most people who’ve lost an arm, leg, hand, foot, even sometimes their tongue or penis—can you imagine needing to have your tongue removed and what that must be like? Yuck. Anyway, most people who’ve lost a limb or whatever sometimes feel like it’s still there, and the pain part is only felt by people who had a limb, but lost it. It doesn’t happen with those who were born without an arm or foot or whatever. I mean, that makes sense…if the brain didn’t know it was there in the first place it couldn’t really send signals to the brain that it was.
“Anyway, some people have continuous pain, which would suck. At least you only have it now and then. And it sounds like your pain is actually good…well, not good, ’cause any kind of pain sucks, but you said your hand just throbs sometimes, but others say their pain is like, stabbing or burning pain. Ugh. I can’t imagine! Sometimes stress can bring it about. Are you stressed? You shouldn’t be. I mean, you need to work on that if you are. I hate that you’re in pain.”
“Bryn?”
She ignored him, and continued on excitedly. “The coolest thing is that she said the brain can actually remap itself to another part of the body. So since your hand can’t send signals back to your brain, the information is referred somewhere else…like to your chest. So when you touch your chest, it can wig your brain out because it knows you’re touching your chest, but it’s also like your missing hand is being touched. And it can result in pain because your sensory wires are crossed. Of course, phantom pain can also be caused by other, not as interesting reasons, like damaged nerve endings in your stump or scar tissue there.”
“What time is it?”
Dane’s question startled Bryn for a moment, but she glanced at her clock beside her table. “Five thirty-nine. Why?”
“Do you always get up this early?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t. Not anymore.”
“Oh.” Bryn bit her lip. “Were you sleeping?”
“Yeah.”
Bryn didn’t say anything for a moment, then ventured to ask, “But you’re not anymore…right?”
He chuckled, then confirmed, “No.”
“Right. So treatments. You can either try drugs, or something more non-evasive like acupuncture, or something called TENS, transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation. The doctor discussed the kinds of drugs some of her patients take, and I don’t really think any of them sound very fun. Things like antidepressants, which would modify the chemical messengers that make you think your hand hurts, or anticonvulsants…they quiet the damaged nerves. Some people also take narcotics like morphine, but I really don’t think that would be good for you. And besides, I don’t like the thought of you being drugged to the gills. The most interesting treatment she told me about is something called a mirror box. And I think I can set one up at your house without too many issues. I mean, it’s just a bunch of mirrors, but essentially you’d put your right hand in one side and stick your stump in the other. The mirrors make it look like you have both hands in the box. You then do exercises with your right hand and watch it in the mirror, thinking that it’s your missing hand doing them. It sounds ridiculous, believe me, I laughed when Dr. Soriano told me about it, but she said it really does help with the pain. There’s so many other—”
“What time did you go to sleep?”
Bryn frowned at the interruption. “Around three I think. Why?”
“You want breakfast?”
“Breakfast?”
“Yeah. The meal most people eat when they get up in the morning.”
“I know what breakfast is, Dane. And yeah, I want breakfast. I’ll make it when I’m done talking to you.”
“You want company?”
“For breakfast?”
“Yeah, Smalls. For breakfast. You want me to come over and share breakfast with you?”
“But you saw me last night.”
Bryn heard Dane chuckle. The sound went right through her, making her shiver. She’d seen Dane almost every day since he’d made her dinner. One time he’d brought lunch to the library and they’d shared it in the breakroom, his back to the wall and facing the door. Another evening he met her at the library—refusing to let her give twenty bucks to Oliver, who’d set up shop outside in the parking lot, probably waiting for Bryn to exit—and they came back to her apartment and watched more M
ythbusters and ate ramen noodles. Yesterday he’d called when she’d been walking into work and their conversation was very short since Rosie Peterman, the head librarian, gave her the evil eye for speaking too loudly in the library. He was waiting in the parking lot at five once again. She’d invited him to dinner, but he’d merely handed her a single rose, said he’d been thinking about her, and had followed her to her apartment, watching her park and enter the building before driving away.
And now he wanted to know if she’d like to have breakfast with him.
“I did,” Dane said. “And now I want to see you again. Since I’m awake now, and it seems like every time I’m awake I can’t stop thinking about you and wanting to see you, I thought I might stop by…if it’s okay with you. I can stop at the doughnut shop and bring some over.”
“Doughnuts are bad for you.”
He chuckled again. “A lot of things are bad for you, but most of the time those are the things that can bring you the most joy.”
“Doughnuts bring you joy?”
“Yeah, but more so than the sugar is you. You bring me joy.”
“Wow. That was…um…nice.” Bryn scooted down on her mattress until her head once again rested on her pillow. His voice was deep and scratchy and she could almost picture him lying in his bed, one arm behind his head as he talked to her. It was sexy as hell and with every word he spoke, the slickness between her legs increased. “Are you in bed?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Um hmmm.” Bryn’s hand edged along the T-shirt she always slept in, down to her belly, where she hesitated, then pressed it farther, edging her fingertips under her panties and brushing against her folds. She inhaled deeply.