But he couldn’t stand lying in that bed. He needed to get up, move his body, stride forward even if he couldn’t walk yet. He’d become completely fixated on his physical recovery, because that was something he could control. He could trust himself to make small yet significant gains in his rehabilitation. The horrifying shit in his head that tried, and repeatedly failed, to drag him down would stay buried in there for as long as he lived, because he doubted that he’d survive facing the trauma. Learning to live without a leg? He could do that. The physical pain would leave him when his body recovered. Knowing that a nineteen-year-old kid and a brave, brilliant, selfless dog had died because Chad had stupidly driven over a trip wire? He couldn’t live with that. The psychological devastation would truly cripple him if he gave his feelings a chance to surface. Even now he had to blink back a sudden rush of emotion and take a deep breath, push the thoughts his mother’s question had brought slamming into the forefront of his mind back into the dark corner he kept them contained in.
He had to get out of this fucking place. He had nothing to do but think—or force himself not to think—except when he was in physical therapy. He was currently working on transferring from a bed to a wheelchair and from a wheelchair to the toilet or a chair. He knew they wouldn’t let him out until he could at least do that. The muscle tear in his right rotator cuff prevented him from using both arms and severely hindered his progress. His PT said he was making remarkable strides and marveled at Chad’s infallible determination, but Chad was sure he could do better—miraculously heal faster—if he pushed himself harder.
Unable to stand lying in bed for another second, he forced his body upright using his remaining core strength, cringing as the tightening of his abdominal muscles pulled on his cracked rib. Watching beside his bed, his mother cringed even more than he did.
“Are you sure you don’t want pain medicine, sweetheart?” she asked.
“I told you no,” he snapped, even though he knew she was just worried about him and couldn’t stand to see him suffer. He shifted to sit on the side of the bed, using a remote to lower its height so that his foot could just touch the floor.
Because one arm was now trapped in a sling—to prevent him from using it—he had only one arm to give him the leverage required to stand. That motion also required a lot of core strength and also pulled on that hindrance of a cracked rib, but he managed to get his foot under his body and stood, wobbling precariously before finally finding his off-center of gravity.
His mother actually clapped. What lowly state did a grown-ass man have to be in for someone to clap because he managed to stand?
“Mom,” he said, shaking his head. “Really?”
She came around the bed to hug him before she drew away, reached up, and patted his cheek. “I’m just so proud of you.”
He could see that pride expressed in her sparkling blue eyes. At least she hadn’t cried this time like she had after they’d removed his catheter and he’d peed in the potty like a big boy. That bag of piss hanging from the end of his bed for anyone—including one particularly beautiful angel he was missing today—to see had been all the motivation he’d needed to reach that little milestone.
Chad stood beside the bed for a long moment trying to find the courage to hop. There was something about not having a backup leg should he fail that made his heart race at the very idea of his one and only foot leaving the ground. So, he just stood there until his stump began to ache from the blood pooling in the still healing tissue. They assured him that his circulation would adjust with time, but until the swelling issues remedied themselves, he wouldn’t be fitted for a prosthetic. The flap of skin and muscle they’d wrapped around the end of his femur was still too tender to support a device anyway, but he wanted one. More than anything. He wanted the freedom a prosthetic offered.
His cellphone rang, and Mom picked it up from the bedside table. “Who do you know from Minnesota?” she asked.
Emerson’s father again. He couldn’t talk to him. Couldn’t tell him that his son was dead because Chad had made a mistake. He’d listened to the first choked-up message Mr. Emerson had left but couldn’t force himself to play back the other half-dozen voice mails he’d left since.
“No one,” he lied. “Let it go to voice mail.”
The ringing stopped, and Mom set his phone back on the tray.
“You can’t keep avoiding people, Chad,” she said.
Yeah, he could.
“I’m not,” he lied again.
“You could at least let your friends visit. They want to see you.”
“I don’t want to see anyone until I can walk,” he said. And maybe not even then. He dropped back onto the bed. “Is Lindsey coming today?” He did want to see her. She was the only person he knew who saw him for what he was now and didn’t compare him to what he had been before. She also didn’t harass him about what he planned to do with his future. He hadn’t the slightest inkling about where his life was headed next and didn’t care to be reminded of that fact.
“I think she plans to drive down after her job interview,” Mom said.
“She’s really trying to find her way, isn’t she?” Chad said.
“I think she’s afraid people will think the worst of her, but she’s a real sweetheart. I wish Owen would give her a chance.” Mom smiled. “They’d make a nice little family together. I think she’d be happy as a stay-at-home mom.”
Chad wasn’t so sure that would be enough for her, but he didn’t pressure her about her future plans either. They were both content dealing with their troubles one day at a time.
“You just want a grandbaby,” Chad accused with a grin.
Mom grinned back. “Can’t wait.”
The yearning in her expression broke his heart. What would she do if Lindsey found a future that didn’t involve them?
Mom was still in the dark about Owen being off the hook as the baby’s father. It felt weird to keep secrets from her. It wasn’t that she was an unaccepting person, but she was a notorious mama bear. He imagined Josie would get an up-close and personal view of Mom’s carefully hidden claws and teeth when she learned that Josie had dumped her eldest son. He knew that wasn’t fair to Josie. If she didn’t love him, she shouldn’t have to force herself to stay with him—to give up the life she wanted—just because no other woman would ever want him again. He shoved that thought out his mind. He refused to feel sorry for himself. Even though he’d always wanted a family of his own, it didn’t mean he was entitled to one. If he was destined to live a life alone, he’d just surround himself with dogs. He liked them better than people anyway. They never judged. Their devotion was unconditional. And they couldn’t ask him uncomfortable questions or make him feel guilty for keeping secrets.
“Are you fit for company?” a familiar deep voice said from near the partially open door.
“Kelly!” Mom said, rushing over to hug the son of her heart.
His hair had grown even longer since the last time Chad had seen him. The thick black mass fell past the middle of his chest now. Chad knew how proud Kellen was of his hair—part of his Cherokee heritage—but he couldn’t resist tossing a barb in his direction.
“With those flowing locks of yours, how often do you get mistaken for a woman from behind?”
Kellen gave Mom an extra squeeze before releasing her and turning to present his backside to the room. “With this ass?” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder in his butt’s direction and smirked. “Never.”
Chad laughed and extended a hand in his direction. “Mom was supposed to tell you that I didn’t want any visitors.”
“I did tell him,” Mom said, “but for once I’m glad he didn’t listen.” A bit of the worry that had creased her brow since he’d firs
t seen her a week ago eased. She was probably sick of him grousing at her for caring too much.
“Owen’s not here today?” Kellen asked. He licked his lips, looking equal parts relieved and sad.
“He went to Houston to see his girlfriend,” Mom said. “He’ll be sorry he missed you.”
Kellen looked anything but convinced.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be standing already,” Kellen said. “Should have known nothing would keep you down.”
Chad’s swelling leg was protesting his continued posture, but now that Kellen had mentioned it, he wasn’t about to return to the bed. Mom recognized his predicament. She pushed his wheelchair around the bed. “I was just about to take him outside for some fresh air,” she said.
Chad felt every muscle go rigid. He hated being taken places, but until he got his arm out of the sling, he’d have to deal with being pushed in the wheelchair rather than get around by himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have refused when Mom had suggested they rent a motorized wheelchair so he could maneuver on his own, but that had seemed an even worse option at the time. “Why don’t you take him instead?”
“I’d be happy to,” Kellen said. “If that’s okay with him.”
Kellen’s gaze locked with his, and Chad loved him for not assuming he’d agree. Loved him for a lot of reasons. Chad was glad he’d come no matter how much he’d insisted he didn’t want to see his friends. Kellen wasn’t just a friend. He was family.
“Is it nice out?”
Kellen chuckled. “Sunny and Texas hot.”
Just how Chad liked it.
Chad resisted the urge to fight over the direction Kellen pushed his chair. He’d struggled in boot camp because he had such a hard time letting go of control, a hard time relying on his team. That might have been why they’d agreed that he’d make an excellent Dawg. He could focus his need to be in charge on a canine instead of getting himself in trouble by mouthing off to his CO.
It was a challenge not to think about the men and women in his platoon as he and Kellen traveled the halls of the military hospital. It didn’t matter the age of the veteran or the branch of service, the military was a family of another caliber, and being around other wounded soldiers reminded him that he’d never be an integral part of that family again, no matter how accommodating and welcoming his fellow wounded veterans were. He returned their greetings, acknowledged them all with a nod, but inside he wanted to hide from the reminders of everything he’d lost.