by Annie Stone
“Hunter, calm down, it’s all right!” I put both hands on his face, forcing him to look at me. “Shhh. It’s okay. They’ll remove the tube in a second. It’s okay. You’re safe.”
He gives me a confused look but calms down a little. Releasing him for just a second, I press the button to call the nurse, and she comes in a moment later. She calls the doctor, who checks Hunter’s pupils and vital signs before removing the tube from his throat. Hunter gasps, coughs, and retches, but when he starts breathing again, tears run down my cheeks.
“Mac?” he asks hoarsely.
“I’m here, babe,” I say, taking his hand again.
He squeezes my fingers.
“Sergeant Tilman,” the doctor interrupts gently, “I’m Dr. Ferguson. I operated on you. You sustained injuries to your shoulder, arm, thigh, and leg. And there was internal bleeding from damage to your spleen. Do you remember the mission on which you were injured?”
Hunter squints. “Yeah. We were on the way back to Camp Leatherneck… Wait, what happened to Jax?”
“Jax?”
“Corporal Jackson Halliwell,” Hunter clarifies with difficulty.
Dr. Ferguson shakes his head sympathetically. “I’m sorry. I’ve never heard the name. He wasn’t brought here.”
Hunter swallows heavily.
“Do you remember what happened?” the doctor asks.
“We were ambushed.” It’s still difficult for him to speak, so the nurse hands him a glass of water with a straw. He carefully drinks a few small sips before continuing. “The vehicle was thrown up into the air, and I was ejected through the window.”
The doctor nods. “Ripping off your leg.”
Hunter’s eyes widen, his nostrils trembling. “My leg?” he repeats, like he doesn’t quite understand. He tries to sit up, squeezing my fingers so hard I hear a popping sound.
“I’m sorry, Sergeant,” the doctor says. “We had to amputate your left leg below the knee.”
The nurse presses a button that raises the head of Hunter’s bed. The panic in his eyes breaks my heart. And when he sees the blanket lying flat on the mattress where his leg should be, he sobs. I squeeze his fingers, not knowing how to help him process this. It must be surreal. The last time he was awake, he still had two legs. Now he only has one.
“Oh God,” he mumbles, again and again and again.
“Hunter, babe,” I murmur, putting an arm around his shoulders.
“Fuck, Mac!” He leans his head against my chest and cries. I reach around him with both arms, pulling him firmly to my chest.
“I’m so sorry.”
His tears soak my shirt. Somehow, it’s different to not just see his pain but feel it, too. I kiss his head, whispering calming words, even though I know they’re completely inadequate. His world is breaking down.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” I murmur into his ear.
He pulls away, and there is madness in his eyes. “Nothing is going to be okay! I lost my leg!”
“I know, babe—”
“Don’t call me that! You chose him, you fucking whore!”
I know he doesn’t mean to hurt me. He’s just unable to deal with this situation. “Hunter—”
“I don’t want to see you.” He averts his eyes to the ceiling. “And I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“But I—”
“Get out, Mac! Be happy and forget about me,” he says bitterly.
I reach for his hand, but he pulls it away. “Don’t, Hunter, please… Listen to me!”
“Get out! Now!” He’s almost screaming by this point.
Though I don’t want to leave, the doctor and nurse escort me out of the room. Hunter’s not listening! He’s not interested in what I have to say. Not now.
“Ms. Hall, please go now,” Dr. Ferguson says. “You can talk to him later, when he’s had time to calm down. Right now, it’s best if you leave.”
“No, please,” I beg. “He needs me—”
“He does, but as long as he doesn’t understand that, he’ll just keep sending you away,” the nurse interrupts gently. “We’ll let you know when something changes. You can sit in the waiting room.”
“Okay,” I say defeated. “But please…d-don’t forget.” I walk down the hallway, my arms wrapped around myself. I haven’t felt this lonely in a very long time.
I don’t actually want to talk to anyone, but Carey must be worried, so I dial his number as I sit in an uncomfortable chair.
“Mac?” Carey answers. “How is he? Have you seen him? Can I talk to him?”
I sob the moment I hear his voice.
“No, Mac, no, no!” he desperately calls into the phone, his voice breaking.
“He’s alive, Carey, he’s alive,” I hurry to say, launching to my feet. His thoughts are taking him down the wrong track, and I can’t let him go there. “He’s awake.”
“Fuck! Mac!” Carey swears, relief evident in his voice. “What happened?”
“His convoy drove into an ambush. They were shot at, the vehicle was thrown up into the air, and he was ejected. His leg was ripped off.”
“Ripped off? What do you mean ripped…? Oh, no…”
“They amputated it.”
“Fuck! No! I… Oh my God!”
After a long moment in which neither of us know what to say, Carey asks, “How is he taking it?”
“Not great,” I admit. “And I didn’t make things any better. God, Carey, he hates me.” I lean against the wall, trying to control my tears.
“What did he say?”
“At first, he let me hug him, but then he sent me away and said he never wants to see me again because I chose Carter.”
“That was just the shock,” Carey says lamely.
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Yes, I know, but I think he meant it, too.”
“Oh, Mac. Give him some time. He needs to sort himself out. After that, you’ll get your chance. I’m sure of it.”
I shake my head. “You didn’t see him. So cold and distant. I’ve never seen him like that before.”
“Give him time. Don’t rush things,” Carey insists, nearly begging. “You can’t leave him alone right now.”
“I’m not. I’ll stay here with him. Even if he doesn’t want me to.”
“Thank you, Mac.”
“How is Hazel?”
“She’s sleeping. She misses you.”
I smile a little. “My baby girl.”
“Mac, he loves you. I know he does. You just need to get through his hard shell. Don’t give up. He needs you.”
“I know.”
After we hang up, I wait there in the waiting room for hours. Every time I ask after Hunter, they tell me he still doesn’t want to see me. I curl up on one of the benches there, wrapping my sweater around myself for warmth. At some point, a nurse brings me a blanket. I fall asleep, but I’m restless the entire night.
3
Hunter
As I lie in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, it’s foggy in my head. They gave me a shot. Some downer. My thoughts are a mess. I can’t think clearly.
Ambush. Bomb. Rocket. Ejected. Leg ripped off.
And then Mac was there. Why was she here?
Where is here? Ramstein, probably. What’s she doing in Germany?
Ambush. Bomb. Rocket. Ejected. Leg ripped off.
Did she fly to Germany when she heard? Did she want to see me? Is she here because of me?
When I opened my eyes, she was there. Like an angel. My angel. She is so beautiful. Even more beautiful than I remembered. She gave me a loving look. Called me babe.
Ambush. Bomb. Rocket. Ejected. Leg ripped off.
I was kidding myself. I love her just as much now as I used to. Things are not easier. One spark, and I’m aflame again, like I’ve always been. She’s under my skin, and I’m not getting her out of there.
But now… What kind of a future would we have? She can’t be with a cripple like me. She deserves better. She dese
rves someone who can take care of her, who can help her. Not somebody she needs to take care of. No way. I don’t want that.
Ambush. Bomb. Rocket. Ejected. Leg ripped off.
My leg.
It was a shock to look down and see nothing where my leg used to be. It ripped out my heart. Not because I’m so attached to my leg, but because I don’t stand a chance with Mac this way. She needs somebody with legs. And I only have one now. And no spleen, either. Can you live without a spleen? I mean, if you can, then what’s the point of having one? Mac…
She’ll never see me as anything other than an invalid now. And all I ever wanted was to be a man for her.
Tears well up in my eyes, and I succumb to my self-pity. I cry about my leg, about Mac, about what is never going to be.
And then I realize I do not want to live like this.
At some point, a therapist comes to see me. But instead of cooperating, I just lie there, apathetic, not saying a word. I don’t care what happens to me. Why should I keep living? There is no reason.
I have never had such dark thoughts before. The past few years have not been easy for me, but I always knew I wanted to live. That there was a reason to live, even if Mac didn’t want me. But now? Everything has been turned to dust and blown away. Mac doesn’t want me. And I’m a cripple.
I ignore the small voice in my head trying to remind me that Mac is here with me because I’m wounded.
“Sergeant, how are you feeling?”
I ignore the annoying voice. How am I supposed to feel? I feel horrible! I’m crippled! I don’t think you could feel any other way in my situation.
“Tell me what you felt when you saw that your leg was missing.”
What did I feel? Anger, sadness, despair. But not all because of my leg. My feelings are a mess. Everything’s completely confused.
“Your girlfriend is in the waiting room. Do you want to see her?”
No. I never want to see her again.
It hurts. Why does she keep showing up whenever I’ve just managed to push her existence into the far corners of my mind? Why doesn’t she just leave me alone? Why does she have to keep ripping open those old wounds again and again?
I’m really starting to hate her now. Without her, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t be a cripple. I would never have met Shane, never talked to him about the Marines. I would be something completely different. Something other than a cripple, I think bitterly. Hell, I would be with some girl, too—maybe even married.
My head seems to be racing against itself: How many times can I think the word “cripple”?
“Why don’t you want to see her?” the therapist interrupts.
Because she broke my heart! And she keeps doing it again and again. She won’t stop breaking it. I can’t do this anymore. There’s nothing left of me for her to love. Nothing that could love her back. Not when I can’t even love myself anymore.
Every thought of her hurts. It hurts so bad. Every fiber of my being longs for her and the moment she held me, my cheek against her soft breasts. The moment she held my face and looked deep in my eyes, my panic ebbing away. The second I felt she loved me.
And then…then I realized she could not end up with a cripple like me. She is a good person, so she would never leave when it got hard. She would stick with me and end up despising me for holding her back.
“What do you feel when you look at your leg?” the therapist asks.
Anger. Sadness. Despair. Why did this happen? Why wasn’t I killed? That would be no worse than lying here with one leg. I’d rather be dead than a cripple.
I know a lot of veterans wear prosthetics, and many of them have good lives. Amputated legs often go unnoticed. But…is that something I would want to burden the woman I love with? She doesn’t deserve a man she needs to take care of. She should be with someone who can take care of her. Even if I could make myself believe she really wants me, I would never let her throw her life away like that.
And that’s what she would be doing if she chose to be with me. I would just be a burden to her, especially now that I don’t even know what I’m going to do with myself. I can forget about Force Recon. What else can I do? All I’ve ever been was a soldier.
“Don’t you want to talk to your girlfriend?”
No. I still don’t.
“I know it’s difficult for you…”
Oh, yeah? How would you know? You still have both legs. You haven’t had your spleen removed. You haven’t sustained injuries to your shoulder, arm, and thigh.
“I suppose that’s enough for today,” the therapist says, standing. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Okay, but I can’t promise I’m going to talk to you tomorrow, either.
“Your fiancée’s still waiting,” the nurse chirps brightly as she comes fluttering into my room.
“She’s not my fiancée,” I snarl.
The nurse takes my pulse. “Whatever she is, she’s spent the last five nights here at the hospital.”
“Send her away.”
“I can’t. She’s allowed to wait. And that’s all she does. She hasn’t tried to come in here. She’s respecting your wish. But if I were you—”
“You’re not me.”
“But if I was,” she continues, unperturbed, “I wouldn’t just shut her out like that. You need your family.”
“She’s not my family.”
“She will be one day.”
“No, she won’t.”
“Should I go get her? What do you think?”
“No.”
Looking cross, the nurse fills in a form and then moves swiftly out of the room. Leaving behind silence. Finally.
“Sergeant Tilman, how are you doing?”
It was too good to be true. Of course they won’t just leave me alone with my dark thoughts. It’s another nurse, bustling into my room.
“I’m excellent,” I grumble.
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“Not at all.”
“Your brother called. He wants to talk to you.”
“No.”
“Do you want to see your fiancée? I can go get her.”
“No.”
“Hmm.”
How many ways do I have to be impolite before they get it?
Unfortunately, the silence doesn’t last. “Are you ready to bathe?” she asks resolutely.
“How can I take a shower? I only have one leg.”
“You’ll stay right here, and I’ll give you a bed bath.”
I look at her like she’s lost her marbles. “Excuse me?”
“It’s not that big a deal, really. It’s my job.”
“I don’t want you to give me a bath,” I snap, embarrassed at the prospect of being bathed by a stranger. In bed.
“It’s time. You can’t keep lying around here all stinky.”
“I don’t smell.”
“I’m going to get some water.”
“No, you’re not,” I shout at her. “You’re not giving me a bath!”
She gives me an annoyed look. “Sometimes a family member will do it in these situations, but you don’t have any.”
Like I’d want Carey to give me a bath. Or Dad…
Mac? No, that’s oh so wrong! I don’t even want her in my life anymore.
“I’ll wait till I can limp over to the bathroom myself,” I decide.
“No,” the nurse says, heading for the door.
“Yes.” I want to cross my arms in front of my chest, but I still can’t really move the arm with the two bullet wounds.
The nurse turns and crosses her arms over her chest. “Look, Sergeant Tilman, it’s going to be me or her.”
I know exactly who she means. I stare into her eyes, wanting to show her I’m not scared. But she just stares back. I don’t think I’m going to win this fight. Ugh. This woman doesn’t look like she’d be very gentle with me…
God, when did I become such a pussy?
“Mac,” I mutter, resigned. The world has tu
rned against me.
The nurse smiles and walks out, back to her perky self. A few minutes later, Mac sticks her head through the door. Tears are shining in her eyes, which are framed by dark shadows.
“Are you okay?” she asks gently.
“Don’t ask me stupid questions,” I hiss. But I regret it when I see her flinch.
The nurse returns and places a bowl of water, washcloths, a towel, a clean hospital gown, and soap on the bedside table. “Shall I show you how it’s done?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“We’ll be fine, thanks,” Mac says calmly.
I don’t want her doing this, but I see that I don’t have a chance.
When the nurse has left, Mac dips a washcloth into the water.
“Mac,” I say, taking a deep breath. “The following rule applies: You will not talk about our past. Not one word.”
“But—”
“No, not one word. I don’t want to hear anything. Not where you’re living or where you’re working, or anything else. Only if you stick to that rule will you be allowed into my room. Is that clear?”
“But—”
“Out!”
She raises both hands. “Okay, fine. I’m not going to say anything.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“I…” She sighs heavily. “I have to touch you.”
“Yes,” I grumble. “You won out against fat Berta.” It wasn’t much of a contest with that battleship of a woman.
Mac smiles slightly. “What if they’d offered you Melody?”
She knows very well she would have won out against all of them. Even if I don’t want this to happen. “The one with the tight little butt?” I ask coldly.
Mac nods, a tear rolling down her cheek. I’m an asshole. Fuck.
Slowly, she peels away my blanket and takes off my hospital gown. She runs the washcloth across my skin, washing away anything left over from the ambush. She’s gentle but thorough. She washes my arms, my neck, throat, chest, stomach… Then she hesitates before slowly pulling the blanket down further. I close my eyes and brace myself. Do not get a hard-on. Do not get a hard-on. Do not get a hard-on.
She keeps going the way she started. Gentle and thorough. And much too sexy.