by Lee Kilraine
Delaney couldn’t believe she’d finally shared her soul-shattering fear. She hadn’t wanted to worry Greer, and the fear had been eating away at her. She stared into Quinn’s face, her body tensing up with each drawn out tick of time.
Quinn stayed silent, his gaze moving over her face. His lips flattened into a line before he huffed out a breath. “Okay. Let’s just deal with the facts. Tell me, what you do remember that leads you to believe that?”
“That’s just it. I don’t remember anything.” She avoided Quinn’s eyes. It had been hard enough trying to bury the guilt she felt so deep for so long, but giving voice to it, telling someone else, was the hardest thing she’d ever done. “Except in my dreams. I hear a voice begging me to help them . . . and I wake up knowing I didn’t. I froze. I should have saved them, but I didn’t. I think it was my fault people died that day, and I’m not sure I can live with that.”
“Oh, Laney.” Quinn reached out to cradle her face with his hands, gently lifting her face until his eyes locked with hers. “Is it possible that’s survivor’s guilt?”
His mom came around the corner into the kitchen. “Quinn, I need a moment with you. Now.”
He shook his head, keeping his eyes on Delaney. “Ma, now’s not a good time.”
“Quinlan, now is the perfect time.” She pulled that look out of her bag of mom tools.
Seamus stepped in, taking Delaney’s elbow. “Come keep me company over my coffee, and you can help keep Greer from eating all the pie.”
Quinn’s mom pulled him out to the front porch.
“Ma, could we talk about whatever this is later?”
“Quinn, have I ever acted like you needed to have your head examined or lectured you about making smarter choices in your life?”
If Ma hadn’t taught him not to roll his eyes at her, he would have. “Pretty much weekly, like clockwork, since I was in sixth grade.”
Mama Cates nodded her head. “You know everyone thought your crush on Delaney was sweet when it started. Then, over time, it seemed unrealistic, or unwise. Crazy even. Almost like you had created this imaginary creature in your mind that no other girl could live up to, but didn’t really exist in real life.”
Quinn crossed his arms over his chest. He’d heard this before. From everyone. A lot. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ma. But from the moment I met her, there was something there, even if it was only on my side. I started to doubt myself, especially when Greer felt sorry for me, so I tried to move on, live my life.
“Then Greer’s all, ‘You have to do me this favor,’ you know, and the minute I saw her again, I knew. I even tried to fight it, but that lasted all of three days. Ma, trust me when I say I’ve examined this from every angle recently. I’m sorry if you think I’m crazy, but I’m pretty sure she’s it for me. So, please don’t tell me to move on, or that you’ve got some other woman for me to meet.”
“Quinlan Cates, you listen to me—”
“Ma, I love you, but I’m tired of hearing that I’m an idiot.”
“Well, you are an idiot—if you don’t do everything within your power to secure that girl as fast as humanly possible. If you have to trick her or . . . or blackmail her, or heck, kidnap her.”
Quinn bent down to peer into his mother’s face, not sure he heard her correctly. “Ma, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’m sorry I doubted you. She’s tough, and a smart-ass and cusses like a sailor,” she said.
“She’s got a great right jab, too.”
“She’s a fighter, all right. But she’s also funny and smart and . . . and I think I love her already.” Mama Cates poked him in the arm for emphasis. “So, grab her before she gets away.”
“I would, but I haven’t convinced her we belong together yet.”
“Your brothers have always said you were slow.” She reached up and pinched Quinn’s cheek as if he was five. “This is the first time I agree with them.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Well, that was a first. Delaney shut the bedroom door, leaning against it for a moment. Her life was becoming so strange, almost like the explosion had knocked her into an alternate reality. Delaney had never experienced the support and comfort of a family before, but she was pretty sure that was what had just happened. Wow. Did kids who grew up with a loving family get how lucky they were? No wonder Greer was the “normal” one, since she had had love from Quinn’s family from kindergarten on. Thank God for that.
If tonight was anything to go by, she was going to love being at the Cateses’ house. Already, she felt like she’d found the very thing she’d never had growing up but always wanted . . . a warm, loving family. She was afraid to get too hooked, for the hole it would leave in her life when she left.
Delaney hummed her way into the bathroom, where she stripped down to her Jockeys before washing her face and brushing her teeth. No way was she wearing one of those new slinky nightgowns to bed.
Her sore muscles and sharp headache were real enough. Moving to the bed, she dug around for the aspirin bottle she had stashed in her purse. The headache had been stabbing at her ever since the scene she’d made in the diner.
A light knock on her door turned her around. “Yes, Mama C?”
Quinn walked in, shutting the door behind him. “It’s not Ma.”
“Go away,” Delaney said, turning back to her quest for aspirin.
When Quinn didn’t say anything, she turned to make sure he wasn’t locking the door. He wasn’t. He just stood there looking at her.
“Would you stop?” Her cheeks heated, and she had the sudden urge to knock his ego down a peg. “Oh, hey, good try on the shopping trip, but I won.”
Quinn shook his head to focus on what Delaney had said. “What? What did I try, and what did you win?”
She motioned to the bright thongs strewn across the bed. “I cannot believe you stooped to bribing your mother to buy me thongs. But the joke is on you, ace, because no one said I had to wear them and you still have to paint the foyer.”
To Delaney’s eyes, Quinn didn’t look like he was getting it. Heck, it didn’t even look like he was paying attention. His eyes ping-ponged between the colored thongs lying on the bed and her Jockey-clad body. “I feel a little superior standing here in my Jockeys knowing that just having those sherbet-colored thongs in my drawer is enough to force you up a scaffold.”
The woman had not a clue. If she did, she wouldn’t be standing there so calmly. She’d be pissed. Pissed to find out her long, lean runner’s body didn’t need colored scraps of silk to look exquisite. The white ribbed tee hugged her body like a lover. It was a teasing veil over her breasts. The white panties cut low below her hipbones but straight, although just barely, over her most amazing ass.
“This is your non-sexy answer to the thongs?”
Delaney put one hand on her hip. “Yup. Say it, Quinn. I win. You lose.”
Nope, not a clue about men if she thought this wasn’t sexy as hell. But lucky for him he was smarter than he looked. “When you’re right, you’re right. You win. I lose. I’d like my lovely parting gift for playing though.”
Quinn walked until he stood a foot away from Delaney. The crease in her forehead reminded him of the other reason he’d come in.
“I brought you this.” He lifted up the bottle of water he held in his left hand and unscrewed the top, before handing her the open bottle. He took Delaney’s empty hand and placed two aspirin from his pocket in the center. “And these. For the last hour, you had that crinkle you get when you have a headache and you were rubbing your leg like it hurt.”
“Oh, God, you’re right. I’ve had an icepick jammed in my forehead since lunchtime.” She quickly downed the aspirin with a swallow of water. “Thank you.”
“Now for my lovely parting gift. A good-night kiss.” Quinn took the bottle of water from her and carefully recapped it before tossing it on the bed. He pulled her close until their lips were a mere breath apart.
“Hey, our truce is over.”
“I’m calling another one.”
“This is a bad idea,” she whispered, her lips lifting up to his.
“It can’t be. It feels too right.” He adjusted her body tight against his. What started as a soft good-night kiss quickly ignited into something hotter, flaming out of control. Delaney’s hands ran through his hair, caressed the back of his neck, and blazed a trail of fire across his shoulders. His lips pressed hard. His tongue played with hers. He had to pull back before he lost control.
“This can’t be anything,” she said against his lips.
“This is something.” He kissed his way up her jawline.
“No. It’s a hormone thing. It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” he whispered in her ear. Quinn forced himself to step away and leave her room before he said what his heartbeat confirmed. It was possible it was everything.
Chapter Twenty-three
“Captain Lyons, I’ve read over your medical records and I spoke with your doctor at Walter Reed yesterday. He’s mighty glad you’re in my office today.” Dr. Harris sat behind her government-issue desk, smiling. “I am too. So, how are you doing?”
“Fine.” Delaney nodded, but sat up straighter when the doctor tilted her head, looking at her over her reading glasses. The weight of two pairs of eyes pressed in on her. Greer’s throat clearing was so obvious her sister might as well have coughed “bullshit” into her hand. Delaney crossed her arms over her chest and focused her eyes on the diploma over the doctor’s shoulder. “I’m fine.”
Greer shifted in her seat, drawing her attention.
“Look, I’ve got it easier than half the soldiers we passed in the hallway just now.” And damn if she didn’t feel guilty about that. They sure as hell hadn’t given up like she had. Even now, she was terrified to open up. She shook her head and frowned over at Greer.
“I’ve already told you you’re my hero. Don’t shake your head.” Greer frowned right back at her. “You’re the strongest person I know. But stop it. You’re being more of a burden trying not to be a burden. So, just be weak for one minute. Right now. Tell this nice doctor the truth.”
“Remind me again why I let you come with me.”
“Because deep down you knew I’d do this. And it was either me or Quinn.” Greer wiggled her eyebrows at her.
“Right.” She turned back to the doctor. Rubbing her hands on her thighs, she released a small chuff of air between her lips. “Okay, so maybe not so good.”
Dr. Harris pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose and nodded. “Well, let’s see what we can do about that. As you know, rehabilitation involves a variety of components, so it’s really just a matter of finding out what areas are working and what you need more of.”
Delaney shoved her hands under her thighs and rocked slightly, tamping down the urge to run out of the office. Pain spiked in her temples. Dr. Harris made it sound so temptingly simple. Sure, she’d worked hard and struggled in rehab for over six months before imploding, but it had never been simple.
“I read over the report from your physical therapist yesterday. It’s good to hear your progress on that front.”
“Well, my physical therapist is stricter than the meanest, crustiest drill sergeant you could ever meet.” Delaney tilted her head in Greer’s direction.
“She’s talking about me. If I weren’t her sister, I’m pretty sure she’d have fired me weeks ago.”
“Okay, let’s get you in a gown and examine your residual limb. Your doctors at Walter Reed had your new prosthesis delivered overnight, so we’ll be able to have our prosthetist fit it on you. And then we’ll discuss what other support you need. How’s that sound?”
Gut-wrenchingly scary. “Fine.”
“I’m going to step into the waiting room.” Greer grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Hey, you’ve got this.”
Delaney watched the door close behind Greer, wishing she had a sip of whatever confidence-booster Greer was drinking. Greer and Quinn, and Quinn’s family, were her safety parachute. All she had to do today was relax into the safe landing.
Dr. Harris removed her glasses and sat back in her chair. “Between advanced protective gear and battlefield medical techniques, we’re saving more soldiers than ever before. From that first Golden hour to the forward surgical hospitals and then the airlift to Germany—that whole process is working like a well-oiled machine. But stateside?”
She couldn’t complain about her surgeons, physical therapists, prosthetists, nurses, or volunteers once she’d gotten to Walter Reed. They were amazing, but they’d only accounted for a small part of her time there. In between the few hours of rehab appointments were too many long, lonely hours spent in her hospital room or sitting in her wheelchair in a sterile hallway. Delays and long waits due to lost paperwork and an understaffed, overwhelmed hospital led to frustrations for patients and staff alike. There were lonely, isolated, frustrated hours where pain and doubt had had time to become best buddies, decided to room together, and rented space in her head. And things had only gotten worse when she’d progressed to the apartment off the hospital grounds.
“You’re lucky to have the support of your family and friends. It’s too easy in this overwhelmed system to fall through the cracks. A strong support system is a key component for a successful recovery and rehabilitation.”
Easy for her to say. That just wasn’t the way it worked all the time. Sometimes even with support, the pain and the mind games made isolation the easiest thing to reach for. Partly because no matter how much Greer loved her and had wanted to help a month ago, there were things she couldn’t understand, and things Delaney couldn’t explain because it would have meant unpacking an experience she wasn’t ready for.
Not then. Not during the first loops of her downward spiral. But now? Yeah. She was ready to try again now. And hopefully ready to handle what she’d been hiding from. The reality of what had happened in Afghanistan. And the reality of her life now. Her new normal, not that she’d ever been normal before.
Deep down inside, there was this voice—her father’s voice—telling her she wasn’t worth all this effort. That if she’d never been born, life would have been easier for everyone. Dammit. She wanted to carve his voice out of her head, exorcize every vestige of him from her soul because long after he’d died, especially in her weakest moments, his voice burned through her mind as insidiously and destructively as molten lava.
She shook her head, needing to get far away from that train of thought. That way really was like falling down another bottomless rabbit hole. No. Today she would begin to prove the damn man wrong.
“Yes. I’m incredibly lucky. I can honestly say I’m here today because of them. I’m ready to make another run at this.”
“Wonderful. Then let’s get started.” Dr. Harris pushed her eyeglasses up the bridge of her nose with her index finger. She picked an iPad up from her desk, tapping the screen a few times to access a program before handing it across the desk to her. “Someone wanted to talk to you before we got going.”
And before she could even guess who the FaceTime call was connecting to, she was looking into the smiling face of Dr. Evans. She lost it, bursting into a sobbing, hiccupping snot-nosed mess. Dr. Harris slid a box of tissues onto her lap.
“I know I’m no George Clooney, but come on, Captain Lyons.”
“No. I’m sorry.” She pulled herself together, wiped her nose with a tissue, and swiped across her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “I’m just shocked and embarrassed and happy to see you. And I need to hit you up for a favor.”
Two more heads popped into view over Dr. Evans’s shoulder, hands waving frantically. Dr. Lewis, her prosthetist, and her favorite PT aide, Sergeant Carl. “Hello, Captain Lyons!”
“Delaney! Knew you’d be back!”
“Delaney, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. You had a setback, and now you’re back. Name the favor. It’s yours.”
“I’ve started running. Sort of. And I wanted to tal
k to you about a prosthesis for it.”
“Called it,” Dr. Evans said, and all three of them high-fived each other. The screen zoomed in on his face. “You just won me twenty bucks.”
She laughed. “What was the bet for this time?”
“Dr. Harris, if you’d do the honors, please? Go look, Delaney. We’ll wait.”
Dr. Harris lifted two cases from next to her desk and placed them side by side on the patient exam table behind her. Delaney walked over, taking the iPad with her, watching the doctor open first one then the second case.
Her new prosthetic foot rested in one case. She reached out a hand, gliding along the ankle joint and up the shin. So much nicer than her temporary limb. Here’s hoping the fit wasn’t too messed up with her month-long sabbatical. Her attention snagged on the second case, and she had to hold on to the table when the emotion hit her.
Because sitting in the second case was a second prosthesis . . . a sleek, sexy, state-of-the-art running blade. She ran a shaking hand over the cool metal before looking back into the iPad. “What? How did you—I don’t understand.”
Dr. Evans grinned. “Dr. Lewis and I had a bet about how fast you’d be up and running. I mean, I’m sorry about what you’ve been through the last month, but”—he waggled his eyebrows—“today’s a great day. You’re back in the game and I’m twenty bucks richer.”
“You had a bet on when I’d be running?” All this time, during her months of self-doubt when the black clouds of angsty failure rolled through her days—they’d believed in her. She wanted to hug them till it hurt.
“Hell, you were in peak athletic shape when you got hurt and you’re a bloody animal when it comes to competition and challenge. Those first six months of rehab? You blew us all away with your progress and work ethic.”
She shook her head as the yin and yang of excitement and fear tugged at her. “Well, y’all knew me better than I knew myself. I’d never have predicted it three months ago.”
“We’re damn glad to see you back, Captain,” Dr. Evans said. “We’ll be in touch.”