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

by Marla Monroe

  Now it felt as if Kermit had given her heart the go-ahead to explore her relationship with Heath. Had he meant to or did he not realize that the possibility was there?

  But it’s not there! It’s a rule. Best friends don’t date the other guy’s ex. It’s just not done and Abby wouldn’t cross that line, but it didn’t mean she didn’t want to.

  And that was the whole problem right there. Abby did want to find out if Heath could satisfy the needs inside of her that Kermit was now denying. It wasn’t even the sexual part that she missed so much. Yeah, Kermit could go from sweet passionate loving to hardcore fucking in an instant, and she loved that about him.

  But Abby missed the other intimacies of a relationship, like holding hands as they walked, slipping her hand into his back pocket when they were just standing around. She missed the way he always called her babe and liked to twirl a lock of her hair around his finger when they were watching TV or at the movies. Waking up alone had always bothered her, but never like it did now, when he was so close. That first moment of slowly becoming aware of the world and knowing you were safe by the heat and feel of your man curled around you. She missed the smell of him on her after they’d hugged or made love.

  I want that back and Heath feels like he could give it to me.

  Abby knew that she shouldn’t feel that way about Kermit’s best friend. It was wrong on so many levels. What was she going to do? How could she be around Heath and keep her feelings to herself? Spending a little less than two hours with him looking at the house and discussing what needed to be done had slammed home the fact that she was attracted to him and enjoyed being around him. She loved Kermit, would always love him, yet there was something going on that included Heath as well.

  Oh, God! I’m in so much trouble. I can’t have feelings for two men.

  “Can I?”

  Chapter Eleven

  “You ready to move out, man?” Lucifer, his therapist asked as he slowly made his way through the bars on his new “legs.”

  They were basic, no frills appendages that allowed him to stand upright and walk using a walker or between the bars at the gym. The harness holding him upright pissed him off, but the bastard in charge of his therapy insisted it helped him relearn his balance and posture so he didn’t compensate and mess up his back and stride.

  “Yeah, whatever it takes to get out of this hellhole.” Kermit had to work to play the part of a recovering patient. He didn’t much care one way or another as long as he got out of the hospital.

  “Pretty much what all of you say when you’re still fighting the changes,” Lucifer told him.

  Kermit stopped and looked over at the man. “What in the hell does that mean?”

  “It means that you haven’t fully made the decision to live yet, Marine.” Clark, Rex’s copartner in their three-way relationship, stood a few yards away watching him.

  “What the hell do you know about it?” Kermit asked, barely able to keep from being a complete asshole.

  “Well, I watched Rex go through the same thing. So I think I’m a pretty good expert on the subject. No worries, though. You’ll come around. You’ve got a friend that’s willing to do anything to help you there. One day you may actually appreciate what he’s gone through and giving up for you.” Clark walked closer to the bars and for the first time, Kermit noticed the dog.

  “What’s a dog doing in the gym?” he asked instead of commenting on Clark’s observation.

  “This isn’t any dog,” Clark told him. “He’s a therapy dog. I’m going to start classes with my dog next week.”

  “Classes? Like obedience classes?” Kermit asked. “Why?”

  “He’s specifically for PTSD. I just brought him to show some of the guys and I was hoping to catch Heath to show him,” Clark told him.

  “How do they help with PTSD? I don’t get it,” Kermit said shifting in the harness.

  “Let Kermit finish walking to the end and then we’ll get him out of the harness,” the therapist told Clark.

  Kermit threw the therapist from hell a nasty look. The man was seriously pissing him off. He pushed too hard and talked too much.

  Clark nodded and walked with the dog over to some of the other vets to show them the dog. Kermit concentrated on aligning his body and keeping his abdomen tight so he could control where he moved as he walked. It was a hell of a lot harder than he’d thought it would be after watching some of the videos of others using them.

  Once he’d finally reached the end of the walking bars, Lucifer the terrible pushed the walker toward him and waited as Kermit adjusted his body to using it to walk back to the chairs to sit down.

  “You’re doing a lot better than I expected,” Lucifer told him with a smile. “After you shower, we’re going to put them back on. You need to keep them on the rest of the day and take them off before bed. I hear Heath’s going to pick you up in a couple of hours. Don’t forget your appointment with the prosthetics specialist tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I won’t. Do I wear the sticks back tomorrow?” he asked.

  Lucifer shook his head. “Yeah. Put them on in the morning and wear them all day tomorrow. Take them off if you’re going to take a nap or if you notice any reddened areas to your stumps. Make sure there aren’t any wrinkles in the stockings before you pull on the prostheses. It will lead to pressure sores.”

  “I know. You’ve only told me a dozen times today alone. I’ve got it,” Kermit snapped.

  Lucifer held up his hands and stepped back. “No problem, Sir. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  Kermit sighed. He needed to regain better control of his temper. The man was a serious pain in his ass, but he was doing his job and Kermit needed him to sign off on him as soon as possible. He’d agreed to the triathlon and would need to be ready for it, and he wanted to be able to put the entire place behind him and figure out what the fuck he was going to do with the rest of his life. It sucked, but unless he chose to eat his gun, he had to support himself.

  With the sticks, they called legs in the case strapped to the wheelchair behind him, Kermit rolled over to where Clark was talking to Dobbs. They seemed to be discussing how the dog was going to help him with his PTSD.

  “I have really bad nightmares sometimes. If they go on for very long, I wake up sick and really down. I can’t function well for a few days after that. Mack here would wake me up as soon as he noticed the signs that I’m dreaming. Then he would help calm me until I’m able to relax again,” Clark was saying.

  “That would seriously suck if you were having a really hot dream, though,” Dobbs said with a chuckle.

  “Tell me about it. I’m going to see if I can train my companion to tell the difference,” Clark said with a wide grin.

  “Hey, you don’t need to have hot dreams, you’ve got Ellie,” Dobbs reminded him.

  “There is that,” Clark said with an even bigger smile, if that was possible.

  “So where do you get these trained dogs?” Kermit asked, breaking in.

  “There are a lot of organizations out there who are committed to helping not only veterans, but shelter dogs as well. I’m working with The Battle Buddy Foundation. There are a lot of others out there that are just as dedicated and supportive though. And they aren’t all trained when you choose them. Most of their training occurs with you. You train together,” Clark explained.

  “So what else do they do besides wake you up from nightmares?” Kermit asked, his interest piqued now.

  “A lot of episodes start out with anxiety and that comes in a lot of different situations. The most common one is just everyday life where you have to go out of the house and shop or work or exercise. Your companion will act as a buffer zone for you and anyone around you. He separates you from them so you don’t feel overwhelmed or smothered. He sits between you and whoever is encroaching on your space to give you room to breathe.”

  Clark pointed out that Mack was already sitting a good foot away from him keeping Dobbs another two feet away from him.
It hadn’t even required the dog do much more than sit then stretch out so that Dobbs had to step back without even realizing he was doing it.

  Kermit thought about it and it made sense. Heath really needed to be there. He needed something like this. He looked at his watch.

  “Are you still going to be here for a little while longer? I’m going to grab a shower. Heath will be here in the next fifteen or twenty minutes if you can hang that long,” he said, hoping the other man didn’t have somewhere to be.

  “I can hang around for a while longer. I’m waiting on Ellie to get off work. She took that counselor’s job that they had open,” Clark told him.

  “She’s a shrink? I thought she did something with social work,” Dobbs said with a frown.

  “She’s not that kind of counselor and she is a social worker. She counsels veterans on where to go to get help with different needs. She can help put Heath in touch with the various canine companion networks and help you outfit wherever you decide to live so that it’s easier for you to get around.” Clark pulled out a small card case and flipped through the cards to pull a couple out. “Here you go. This is her card. You can call her office any time to make an appointment or just to ask some questions. Her e-mail is on there, too, if you don’t want to talk yet.”

  Kermit took the card and nodded. “Thanks. I’m going to grab a shower. Heath should be here soon to pick me up.”

  “Congratulations, man. Getting sprung from here is a great step.” Clark shook his hand before Kermit maneuvered the chair around and out to the showers. Getting Heath some help would be a good first step at setting his friend up to take care of Abby. Though he still held a small grain of hope he could somehow return to their old relationship, Kermit wasn’t holding his breath. Too much had been said and his actions had been unforgivable to even hope for her forgiveness, but most of all, he had to prove to himself first that he could provide for her and still give her what she needed and deserved. He held a lot of doubt about that last part.

  * * * *

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea, Heath. He doesn’t want to see me. Isn’t this going to screw up getting him to move in with you?” Abby asked.

  “No. He wants out of there real bad right now. He isn’t going to balk just because you’re here. You came to help me get him settled. Just act natural and let him adjust. He loves you, Abby. I promise.” Heath smiled over at her as he turned into the parking lot.

  Abby could tell that his shoulder was really giving him trouble today. All the work they’d put into getting the house ready had to have cost Heath a lot of discomfort from using his arm so much. Even though all they’d really had to do was add some brighter paint to the walls and unpack everything once it arrived, it had still be hard work.

  “How’s your shoulder holding up?” she asked when he had pulled into a parking space.

  “It’s fine. No problems,” was all he said before climbing down from the truck.

  She sighed. Men. They wouldn’t tell the truth if it killed them. When Heath opened her door and helped her down, she rolled her eyes at him.

  “What?”

  “You moved heavy boxes around all day the last two days. Your shoulder’s bound to be bothering you.”

  He shrugged then winced. “Okay. Yeah, it’s bothering me a little, but that’s how it’s gonna be. I know that. Come on. We’re already a few minutes late.”

  Abby let him lead her across the parking lot and into the building. They signed in, traipsed down the hall toward the gym, and walked into the waiting area. There was a different man on duty this time. He saw Heath and shook hands with him.

  “How are you doing? You look good,” the soldier said.

  “I’m doing well. Thanks. I’m here to pick up my friend, Kermit Anderson. He’s moving out today,” Heath told him.

  “Well good for him. It’s obvious he isn’t happy here. Not that anyone really is, but it will do him good to get out into the world.” The soldier nodded them through and Heath held the door open for Abby.

  It wasn’t surprising to her that the first thing she saw was the man she loved sitting on a bench and talking to several other men, one of which had a cute, lab type dog sitting between him the others. Then it struck her that Kermit was wearing jeans and there were shoes at the bottom of those jeans. Pain sliced through her abdomen, nearly pulling her to the ground at the memory of him sitting just like that at a ball field one summer.

  “Abby? What’s wrong?” Heath supported her weight for a few seconds until she managed to regain her composure and stand alone again.

  “Sorry. I just never thought I’d see Kermit wearing shoes again. It got to me for a second.”

  “Yeah. I know what you mean. I still get a little weirded out when I see him wearing the sticks.”

  “Sticks?” she asked.

  “That’s what he calls the artificial legs he’s wearing while he gets used to walking with them. They’ll fit him with a permanent set once he’s gotten the hang of these and decides what he wants in a prosthesis,” Heath told her. “If you get a chance to see them, don’t stare or be shocked. They’re just like a pair of crutches under the jeans. They don’t look like legs at all. They’re just, um, trainers I guess is what you’d call them.”

  “O–okay. I’ve been studying and researching what to expect and watch for. I’ll be fine.” She hated to think what Heath thought about her when she’d nearly lost it just then. She was stronger than this.

  Luckily for her, no one had noticed their approach, so when they stopped just a few yards from the group, she felt like she was back in control again. The man holding the leash to the sweet looking dog turned his head toward them and smiled.

  “Heath. I was hoping you’d get here before I had to leave.” He stepped forward, the dog easily staying between his master and them.

  “Hi, Clark. I would have been on time if I knew it was you who was waiting on me,” Heath returned with a chuckle.

  “Ellie is on her way over and then we’ve got to get home before Rex throws dinner out,” Clark said.

  “I was just telling Kermit about the benefits of a therapy dog. Max here is specially trained to assist veterans with PTSD. I’m going to be meeting my new companion next week and training with him for the next three weeks,” he told them.

  “He isn’t already trained?” Clark asked, looking down at the dog who’d pushed him back a little bit and laid down in front of him. “This one seems to need more training in manners.”

  “Dufus,” Kermit said. “He’s putting himself between you and Clark, making sure he has plenty of room so he won’t feel anxious or cornered. Pay attention, man.”

  Abby realized Kermit hadn’t noticed her yet. Heath and now Clark were standing between her and Kermit, so he couldn’t see her. It gave her a minute to study him and see how he looked without the anger and frustration that normally tightened his face when she was around. He looked better than the last time she’d seen him. It had been nearly a month and he’d filled out more and lost some of the gauntness she’d hated seeing on him before. His mouth was more relaxed, but there were new lines on his face that hadn’t been there a year ago.

  She let her gaze travel down his torso to where she knew his lower legs were now artificial. Now it was obvious since the jeans weren’t filled out down there like they would have been had his muscular calves been there. She closed her eyes and centered herself before opening them up again and concentrating on the conversation between Heath and Clark.

  “So you believe a service dog will help you with the episodes?” Heath asked.

  “Yeah. I’m sure of it. Just the little that Max has done the few days I’ve had him has helped a lot. He doesn’t even know me that well to pick up on all my tells,” Clark said.

  “Your tells?” Kermit asked this time. “He can help me beat Heath at poker?”

  Clark shook his head with a chuckle. “No, a well-trained dog can pick up on the little things that signal you’re in trouble. Like a
service dog for people with epilepsy can do.”

  “I’ve helped several people get service dogs for that,” a sweet sounding voice interrupted from behind them.

  She and Heath turned to see a pretty woman with honey gold hair pulled back in a loose ponytail walking toward them. Abby figured she was the Ellie Clark had been talking about. She was dressed in a modest navy blue skirt and white blouse. The smile on her face when she reached Clark’s side would have blinded them all if he hadn’t pulled her into his arms and kissed the smile away.

  “Guys, this is Ellie. She’s the most important person in my life. She’s our wife.” He turned and looked down at her with a look so intimate and loving that Abby had to look away.

  She longed to have Kermit look at her like that again. She knew what those kind of looks meant.

  “I was just about to tell them how Max helped me today. Then we can go,” he told her. “Earlier today I went to the bank to make a deposit and there was a group of teenagers horsing around inside. One of their buddies was opening a savings account. He’d just gotten his first paycheck from a new job and they were all going out to celebrate after he finished. The enclosed space with all the noise was bad enough, but then I had to stand in line between two of those poles with ribbons strung on them to keep you in a line. It made me feel closed in.” Clark shook his head for a second. “I guess I must have done something to alert Max because he started pushing me back until I was out of the line and away from the side the teens were on. I settled down and didn’t embarrass myself by flipping out.”

  Abby watched Ellie squeezing Clark’s arm in reassurance. She looked over at where Kermit sat and wished he would let her do the same for him.

  “What happened about making your deposit?” one of the other men asked with a grin.

  “Funny enough, the man who’d been behind me in line called me over to go ahead of him when once he made it to the teller. He shook my hand and nodded but didn’t say anything, so I guess he understood but wasn’t going to say anything. Let me tell you, I appreciated it,” Clark said.