Abby's Two Warriors [Wounded Warriors 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Marla Monroe

  “Yep. Looks like I’ve got a mess to clean up,” the big dark-skinned man said.

  “Sorry. If you’ll give a few minutes to get past feeling like I’m going to throw up, I’ll help with that.”

  “Damn it, Heath! You’ve probably got a concussion. You need to see a doctor,” Kermit insisted.

  “You boys do realize that monkey sex with the trapeze is against the rules don’t you?” the orderly said with a sly smile.

  “Hold on just a minute,” Kermit began.

  “I told you we shouldn’t be trying anything until you were in better shape,” Heath said, holding one hand over the back of his head while his expression was completely serious.

  “I hate it when you do that. We are not lovers. Tell him, Heath. I swear to God I’ll fucking bust the front part of your head if you don’t tell him the truth,” Kermit snarled.

  Heath turned ever so slowly to the orderly that had a good grip on his other arm and said just as seriously as before, “He’s right. We aren’t lovers.”

  The big black man’s smile didn’t drop one inch as he helped Heath to the chair. He picked up the call button and clipped it back to the bed rails once more. Kermit slowly began to catch his breath again.

  “Looks like I’ll be taking you down to the emergency room to get checked out. You might need a stitch or three back there. ’Course head wounds always bleed like that. You ready?”

  Heath nodded once then moaned as he stood up and followed the orderly.

  “No sir, we aren’t lovers—yet.”

  Kermit heard the orderly laughing all the way down the hall as he led his ex-best friend away.

  Chapter Four

  “What happened to you?” Abby asked when Heath opened his apartment door.

  “Shh. Not so loud. My head feels like the entire military band is banging away inside of it. Come one in.” Heath stepped back from the doorway then closed the door once she’d stepped inside.

  “What happened? Did you talk to him? Is he okay now?” Abby needed to know that she and Kermit were going to be okay. She loved him. He was her life.

  “Slow down. I need to sit before I fall.”

  Abby watched as Heath shuffled over to his recliner and slowly sat down. He had a small bandage on the back of his head, and was that blood dried in his hair? Now she was panicking.

  “Heath! What the hell happened? You’ve got blood all in your hair.” She walked over and leaned down to inspect the bandaged place, pushing his head forward so she could see.

  “Ow! Be careful,” he whined.

  “Baby. Be still. I thought you were a Marine,” she snapped.

  “Not anymore. They cut me loose when I got my shoulder busted up.”

  “Once a Marine, always a Marine. You know that. Now be still.” She pulled one edge of the bandage up. “Are those stitches? Why did you need stitches? There’s two of them it looks like.”

  When she stood up and took a step back so she could see his face, Abby got a sick feeling that whatever had happened, she wasn’t going to like it. Without saying another word, she stomped into the kitchen and poured herself a finger of whiskey from Heath’s stash and knocked it back. The burn all the way down to her stomach reminded her that nothing could beat her down unless she let it. Why didn’t that work this time like it normally did?

  Because it doesn’t work when it has anything to do with Kermit, and I’m sure this does. I love him but he’s my kryptonite.

  “Talk, Heath. What happened?” Abby walked back into the living room and dropped to the couch.

  “First, I need to tell you something that I didn’t tell you about.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out fast with his confession. “I have PTSD and I think that’s why I don’t remember what I told Kermit.”

  Abby just stared at him. PTSD? What did that have to do with what he’d told Kermit? She shook her head.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s post-traumatic stress disorder and I…”

  “I know what PTSD is. What I want to know is what that has to do with Kermit thinking we slept together?” Abby had to bite her lip to keep from screaming at him.

  “I still don’t know what exactly triggers mine. When it happens, I’m in that world and I don’t remember afterwards what all happened. Sometimes I wake up under my damn bed or in the closet. That’s what happened when I went to visit Kermit yesterday. Something he said triggered it.” He was looking at her so earnestly that Abby knew he was willing her to understand. But she didn’t.

  “I still don’t understand what that has to do with the issue at hand. You had an episode while you were visiting Kermit. Are you telling me that you lied while you were out or whatever?” she asked, not believing for one minute he’d have lied when he didn’t know what he was doing.

  “No. I didn’t lie. I made him tell me exactly what I said, because I still don’t remember anything. He took what I said all out of context when I told him that I loved you and always had,” he began.

  “You what? You told him you loved me?” Abby couldn’t believe he would have told his best friend that. Wait. “You love me?”

  She needed to sit down. Looking around, Abby realized that she was sitting. Holy hell. Heath loved her. She hadn’t seen that one coming. Maybe she should have, but he was always dating some bimbo or another, going through a string of women every month. She’d been so wrapped up in Kermit, she wouldn’t have noticed. But hell! What was she supposed to say or do with that?

  “Yes. I love you. I have for a long, long time, Abby.” He leaned his head back against the recliner then cursed and jerked it away again.

  “You never said anything,” she said.

  “Duh. You were in love with my best friend. I wasn’t about to say anything. You were perfect together and I don’t have a damn thing to offer you.”

  “What did he say?” she finally asked, ignoring the last part of Heath’s statement.

  “He didn’t say anything at first. Just listened while I screwed up, stumbling over my words because I was operating on instinct and self-preservation. I was in the middle of an episode and didn’t know it.” Heath squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I told him that I felt so damn guilty and didn’t know what to do about it. Then I talked about how upset you’d been when we thought you’d been captured and was missing. I told him all of it, Abby, but I never said anything about us sleeping together. I told him you pulled away and I was the one who tried for more.”

  “You—you told him about the kiss,” she said, staring down at her hands.

  “Yeah, but I think he would have been okay with it when I told him how drunk we were and that you pulled away, except I kept going on about how guilty I felt. He took it to mean that we’d had an affair or maybe even were still having one.” Heath looked up at her. “I’m sorry, Abby. I’m so sorry I fucked this all up. I didn’t know.”

  She wanted to go to him and comfort him as he broke down and cried. She’d never really seen him cry before. Even that weekend he hadn’t actually cried, teary-eyed, yes, but he hadn’t cried. Abby wasn’t going to do it though. That was partly how this had started in the first place, by them comforting each other and now that she knew he loved her? Well, things were different now.

  “What happened after he told you what you’d said?” she asked in a softer voice.

  “I got to feeling the way I do sometimes when one of the episodes start. I jumped up and paced, telling myself over and over that I was safe. I wasn’t back there anymore. Kermit kept talking. He wasn’t hearing what I was telling him, that nothing happened. He said he never wanted to see either of us again and I snapped.”

  Abby jumped when he said that. “What do you mean you snapped? What did you do, Heath?”

  “I got in his face and told him the truth. I told him that yeah, I fucking loved you, but that you had never given me any interest at all. I told him that I was the one who’d initiated the kiss and that you tried to pull away, but
that I’d held on for a few more seconds than I should have. Then I told him why I’d kept telling him how guilty I felt.” She could see the pain that gripped him just remembering.

  What did he feel so guilty about? She understood now why Kermit would have jumped to conclusions. If Heath had looked even half as torn up when he’d been there as he did right that second, even she would have begun to doubt herself.

  “Then why do you feel so guilty, Heath, when we didn’t do anything?” she whispered.

  He looked up, tears filling his eyes and surrender plain on his face. “Because I was thankful that it hadn’t been me. I should want to trade places with him, not be relieved that it wasn’t me. What kind of fucked up thinking is that? He’s my best fucking friend, Abby!”

  Heath’s words didn’t register at first. Once they did, she understood why he felt like he did. She’d been hiding similar thoughts from herself ever since she’d heard. She didn’t wish such a tragedy on anyone, and being thankful that it hadn’t been her felt wrong and cowardly, but it was human.

  “Heath. No matter what anyone else says out loud, we all feel the same way you do. Underneath we’re all grateful it wasn’t our legs. That’s human nature and something you shouldn’t feel this guilty over. What did Kermit say when you told him?”

  “Um, he didn’t really get a chance to say anything. I freaked out when I realized I was kneeling on top of where his legs should have been and fell off the bottom of the bed. That’s how I ended up with the stitches,” he told her, the sheepish look almost endearing if the entire subject hadn’t been so seriously screwed up.

  “What did you do, walk out and go to the emergency room?”

  “No. An orderly walked in about the time I fell and he took me to the emergency room. Kermit was hollering at us when we left, but I don’t think he was mad. Honestly, I kind of checked out again.” Heath looked up at her and frowned. “I’m sorry, Abby. I screwed up again. I can’t seem to do anything right anymore.”

  She couldn’t stand it any longer. Abby walked over and sat on the arm of the recliner and wrapped an arm carefully around his head and pulled him against her. He looked so pitiful and lonely right then. There was no way she could leave him like that. What was she going to do?

  * * * *

  “What changed your mind?” Rex Fielder asked Kermit as the other man wheeled him into the Amputee Center at Walter Reed.

  “My best friend got in my face about some things. I figured if I was going to knock him off his guilt ride, I had to act like I give a damn,” he told the other man.

  Rex had been visiting him several times a week, trying to talk him into trying the clinic and learning how to walk again. The other man had lost part of one leg in much the same way Kermit had. Rex told him that he’d wallowed in self-pity and depression until his best friend had knocked some sense into him. Now he rode a Harley in a military club that supported the fallen and he was a best-selling author.

  “Well, acting like it takes work. I did the same thing and ended up exhausted at the end of every day. Keeping up the pretense is a hell of a lot harder than meaning it,” the other man said. “Can I tell you something?”

  Kermit frowned as they entered the assessment area. “Sure.”

  “I’m not spreading it around yet. It’s still new to me,” he said then laughed. “Get it. New to me?”

  Kermit chuckled though he didn’t see what Rex found funny that he had a head injury that made him forget everything that had happened the day before. It was like waking up to a new life every time he did.

  “Yeah, ha, ha.”

  “I think I’m seeing someone,” the other man said.

  “You think you’re seeing someone? That really doesn’t make a hell of a lot of sense. Either you are or you aren’t.” He shook his head.

  “I am seeing someone, then. It just feels odd. That’s all. I never thought I’d date, but I like her.”

  “Does she know about your leg?” Kermit asked him.

  “No, not yet. I’ll tell her soon. I just wanted to be sure this was something and not just, I don’t know, infatuation. I don’t want to open up that subject if I don’t need to.”

  Kermit understood what he was saying, but felt sorry for the other man. More than likely he’d invest his heart in this woman and once she found out about his prosthesis and the memory issues, she’d be gone in a New York second. Happily-ever-afters weren’t in the futures of men like them—amputees.

  “Well, good luck with that.” Before he could say anything more, one of the therapists jogged over to greet them.

  “Hey, Kermit. When Rex said you were coming down we boned up on your profile and are damned impressed with your record. Thank you for your service, sir!” He and the other therapist, a pretty woman who was taller than most women, gave him a smartly executed salute. Out of habit, he returned it.

  “Let’s get you going, Kermit. Let me make sure you understand this, sir. We will do our best to break you down, tear you apart, and strip you of all that worthless anger and attitude you have going for you so we can help build you back better than you were before. Got it?” the male therapist asked.

  “Uh, maybe I should go on back to my room now and think about this some more.” Kermit wasn’t too keen on being broken down and stripped of anything.

  Most everyone within hearing range laughed when he said that. Looking around, Kermit saw other soldiers with various losses working out on machines, with weights, and on ropes. All of them had one thing in common shining brightly in their eyes—determination. They weren’t quitters and nothing would get in the way of their courage. He hated to be the one wet blanket in the group, but he didn’t have that determination and had no intentions of doing any more than he had to in order to convince everyone he was going to be hunky fucking dory so they’d leave him the hell alone.

  The therapist, or as he soon came to be known as, Lucifer, wheeled him over to a table of some sort that was less than three feet tall. The big man helped him out of the wheelchair and onto the table. Then he sat on a short rolling stool to one side and began measuring his upper legs and stump.

  “What the hell are you doing, measuring me for pants? They’re going to be shorts. I can already tell you that!” he snapped.

  “Oorah!” Men and women from all over the gym shouted it loud and clear.

  “What the hell?”

  “They’re giving you support. You joked about yourself. When you use a joke to cover how you’re feeling or succeed at something or just show determination to make it at something you’re working toward, everyone shows their support. We’re no different in here than we were on the battlefield, sir. We’re your unit, your squadron, your company, your family. Nothing but support here. Get used to it,” the therapist said.

  The man tortured him for over thirty minutes with stupid, painful exercises that should have been easy. Lift your leg for a count of five. Bend your knee then straighten it back out. Sit up. No, I said sit, sir!

  Kermit was ready to break the man’s neck the next time he got close enough to him. Maybe that was why he and the woman switched up on him. He knew his time was limited. As it was, she was worse, but he couldn’t work himself up to wanting to kill her. She was a female and you didn’t harm females.

  Fuck!

  “I want the other guy back!” he snapped after she’d made him hold both legs up for what seemed like a fucking hour.

  “Nope. You’re stuck with me for now. You looked like you were going to kill him and I like him, so no roughing up my boyfriend,” she told him with a laugh.

  Kermit started to curse at her but held it back. It was one thing to curse when something hurt too badly to hold it back, but it was unforgivable to curse for the sake of cursing in front of a lady. Even if she was the reason you wanted to in the first place.

  “Take the pain and turn it into anger. Then turn that anger into determination. Don’t waste something that powerful. Use it. Make it work for you, not against you!” she sho
uted at him.

  When he’d held his legs up the required eternity, she slapped the table next to his waist.

  “Good job!”

  “Oorah!” his cheering squad yelled.

  Chapter Five

  “What if he won’t let me in again, or if he does, kicks me back out? I don’t know if I can do this, Heath.” Abby felt as if her entire body was a bowl of Jell-O. Every part of her shook at the thought of facing Kermit again and having him snarl at her and toss her out again.

  “I don’t think he will, Abby. When I talked to him yesterday he didn’t act like he would if we came to see him. He just said make it today instead. He might have had some testing or visits lined up for yesterday and wasn’t sure when he’d be in his room,” Heath told her.

  Abby was pretty sure he was just saying that to make himself feel better. She didn’t believe for one second that he wasn’t just as nervous and worried as she was. He just hid it better. Only one man could make her lose the always rock solid emotional control she’d developed over the years from living with her domineering father and brothers. Once he was back to being the old Kermit, she’d give him hell for it, too.

  Please let him be okay. I can’t stand seeing him this way.

  “Here we are,” Heath needlessly said.

  He just stood there, so Abby moved around him and knocked. Then she opened the door, not waiting on an invitation she doubted would come. She stepped into the room, her intention to climb up on the bed with the man she loved, to sit next to him, but she had to change directions when instead of the hospital bed where she expected to see him, Kermit was sitting up in the lounge chair.

  “Look at you!” Heath said in an overly cheerful voice.

  Abby wanted to punch him in the arm. She’d told him they needed to act natural, not sickeningly sunny. She sighed and sat on the arm of the chair instead.

  “Hey there, soldier. How are you feeling today?” she asked.