almost moaned at the first bite, savoring the flavors. He could feel her watching him as they ate. Doing an inventory of his injuries, no doubt, the physical therapist in her taking over.
“When did it happen?” she asked finally.
“Few days ago.” He hadn’t had a chance to e-mail her about it and hadn’t wanted her to worry.
“You look sore. Do you have full range of motion in your shoulder?”
“Yeah, I’m just a bit stiff. Healing up fine though, and I’ll be back to normal in a few weeks.” When he took another bite and looked up, he realized she was staring at his head, her sandwich held poised partway to her delectable mouth. He had a bad feeling he knew what she was thinking about. Her next question confirmed it.
“Were you on foot when it happened?”
He shook his head. “On patrol in a Humvee. Insurgents remote-detonated the IED, and we got caught in the blast.”
She met his gaze, seemed to gather herself. “How big was the explosion?”
“Big enough.” The questions might seem merely curious and benign to someone else, but he knew where this was really going. Knowing he shouldn’t torture himself by touching her, against his better judgment he reached across the island and took the delicate hand locked around her glass of sweet tea. Her skin was so pale compared to his, the Afghan sun having darkened what his Mexican heritage had already given him. Her slender fingers were cool and stiff in his, but he felt the jolt of that simple contact all the way up his arm.
“Hey.”
Her eyes flicked up to his, full of uncertainty, but she didn’t try to withdraw her hand.
“I had a slight concussion, but there was no permanent damage done. I don’t have a TBI.” He knew that’s what she was scared of. God knew she had reason to be. She’d been married to a man who’d endured a traumatic brain injury, and she’d suffered for it.
Nodding, she withdrew her hand and stared down at her plate, her cheeks flushed a rosy pink, but her shoulders visibly relaxed. “I’m glad. But what about…”
“PTSD?”
He swore she flinched, but she covered it well. “Yes.”
“Two of my men in the vehicle were killed. Writing their families was hard. I won’t lie and say it doesn’t bother me, but I’m not messed up over it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” He covered the awkward pause that followed with a change in subject. “So, how’ve you been? Work still good?”
“Yeah. The army keeps us busy with a roster of new patients every week.” She picked at her sandwich, wouldn’t meet his eyes. “And…I guess you heard the legal separation’s been finalized? Divorce proceedings are already underway.”
’Bout damn time too. “Yeah, Brian told me. He was pretty happy about it.”
“Yeah, he wasn’t shy about saying so.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “My brother’s always been protective of me.”
“That’s one of the things I like most about him.” Her twin was great, but Alex had hated her piece-of-shit ex, even before the head injury. And afterward…Jesus, he couldn’t believe she’d stuck it out as long as she had. Was it her job as a rehab specialist that made her stay when things turned so ugly? God knew she’d tried everything to help him get better. Maybe she’d been in denial that the man she’d married was gone forever.
But he didn’t want her to dwell on her failed marriage or to make her sad. “You look great, Tia.” That drawn, haunted look was gone from her eyes, the one that had knotted his guts over the past two years. Though she still wasn’t back to the confident, outgoing woman he’d once known. Whatever had happened behind closed doors, her sorry excuse for a husband had all but killed parts of her. The bruises he’d left behind might not show on the outside, but they’d scarred her just the same. Alex wished he could erase every one of them.
The pretty flush deepened, and she looked away. “Thanks. Nothing like a
“When did it happen?” she asked finally.
“Few days ago.” He hadn’t had a chance to e-mail her about it and hadn’t wanted her to worry.
“You look sore. Do you have full range of motion in your shoulder?”
“Yeah, I’m just a bit stiff. Healing up fine though, and I’ll be back to normal in a few weeks.” When he took another bite and looked up, he realized she was staring at his head, her sandwich held poised partway to her delectable mouth. He had a bad feeling he knew what she was thinking about. Her next question confirmed it.
“Were you on foot when it happened?”
He shook his head. “On patrol in a Humvee. Insurgents remote-detonated the IED, and we got caught in the blast.”
She met his gaze, seemed to gather herself. “How big was the explosion?”
“Big enough.” The questions might seem merely curious and benign to someone else, but he knew where this was really going. Knowing he shouldn’t torture himself by touching her, against his better judgment he reached across the island and took the delicate hand locked around her glass of sweet tea. Her skin was so pale compared to his, the Afghan sun having darkened what his Mexican heritage had already given him. Her slender fingers were cool and stiff in his, but he felt the jolt of that simple contact all the way up his arm.
“Hey.”
Her eyes flicked up to his, full of uncertainty, but she didn’t try to withdraw her hand.
“I had a slight concussion, but there was no permanent damage done. I don’t have a TBI.” He knew that’s what she was scared of. God knew she had reason to be. She’d been married to a man who’d endured a traumatic brain injury, and she’d suffered for it.
Nodding, she withdrew her hand and stared down at her plate, her cheeks flushed a rosy pink, but her shoulders visibly relaxed. “I’m glad. But what about…”
“PTSD?”
He swore she flinched, but she covered it well. “Yes.”
“Two of my men in the vehicle were killed. Writing their families was hard. I won’t lie and say it doesn’t bother me, but I’m not messed up over it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” He covered the awkward pause that followed with a change in subject. “So, how’ve you been? Work still good?”
“Yeah. The army keeps us busy with a roster of new patients every week.” She picked at her sandwich, wouldn’t meet his eyes. “And…I guess you heard the legal separation’s been finalized? Divorce proceedings are already underway.”
’Bout damn time too. “Yeah, Brian told me. He was pretty happy about it.”
“Yeah, he wasn’t shy about saying so.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “My brother’s always been protective of me.”
“That’s one of the things I like most about him.” Her twin was great, but Alex had hated her piece-of-shit ex, even before the head injury. And afterward…Jesus, he couldn’t believe she’d stuck it out as long as she had. Was it her job as a rehab specialist that made her stay when things turned so ugly? God knew she’d tried everything to help him get better. Maybe she’d been in denial that the man she’d married was gone forever.
But he didn’t want her to dwell on her failed marriage or to make her sad. “You look great, Tia.” That drawn, haunted look was gone from her eyes, the one that had knotted his guts over the past two years. Though she still wasn’t back to the confident, outgoing woman he’d once known. Whatever had happened behind closed doors, her sorry excuse for a husband had all but killed parts of her. The bruises he’d left behind might not show on the outside, but they’d scarred her just the same. Alex wished he could erase every one of them.
The pretty flush deepened, and she looked away. “Thanks. Nothing like a
Similar Books
