Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 37793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
“You don’t what?”
He shook his head.
I grinned at him. “I know, yeah? So you should probably just g’head and say it.”
Long exhale. “I worry when you’re gone. I can’t help it. And I know you’re terribly capable, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Okay,” I husked.
“It’s not like I can change how I feel.”
“I’m aware.”
After a moment, he tipped his head as he continued to look at me. “I appreciate you not asking me a stupid question like if this is what I want my life to be.”
I shrugged. “You’re a smart man. You knew who I was when you brought me home the first time. If I were different, you might not have wanted me.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “This is what I signed up for.”
“But you’re still going to worry, aren’t you.”
He nodded. “Yes. And I can’t help that, and I refuse to try and change that any more than I would ask you to change for me.”
There was no arguing with that. “Okay, then,” I said with a smile.
“I love you dearly.”
It was so easy for him to speak from his heart. I had not mastered that quite yet. “So then, you’re not looking to cut me loose.”
“No,” he husked. “I’m keeping you.”
It was good to hear.
The food was the best thing I’d had in two months—he made me a fruit salad too—and then he sent me upstairs while he cleaned, promising he was right behind me with a garbage bag and painter’s tape.
“Kinky,” I teased him.
He shook his head. “I want to keep the cast dry.”
“That’s unnecessary. This is fiberglass, that’s why it’s blue.”
After a moment he said, “None of that made sense.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re saying I was supposed to know it’s fiberglass because it’s blue?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” he said like I was nuts.
“You’re placating me.”
His grin was adorable. “I am. Yes. Now tell me from the beginning.”
I pointed at the cast on my leg. “This is fiberglass. It’s much lighter weight than plaster, and it can get wet. Also, it comes in all these groovy colors.”
He nodded. “You were misinformed, my love.”
“How?”
“The shell is okay to get wet, but think about the inside and––”
“No. It has a waterproof liner.”
“Fancy.”
“I’m a sniper. You think those come along every day?” I was indignant.
Quick chuckle. “My mistake.”
“That’s right.”
“But still, liner or not, extra fancy fiberglass or not, water in between your skin and the cast will be irritating, so we’re going to wrap it.”
“Whatever you want.” I gave up. “You’re the doctor.”
“Thank you. Now how long will you be on the crutches?”
“Apparently in two weeks”—which would make a month total, but he didn’t need to know that—“I will transition into one of those air-cast walking boots, and the doctor who fixed me up didn’t say how long I’d have to wear that.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied me. “Do you have paperwork I can look at?”
“How do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, don’t play dumb.”
“Pardon me?” I hedged.
“I want to see what was done. I want to read it.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know if you have to go to physical therapy? And why a cast and the boot? I want to see what exactly you broke.”
“I broke my ankle,” I said matter-of-factly, pointing at the cast.
“Don’t be funny.”
I smirked at him. “That’s gonna be hard.”
“George Hunt,” he barked, “Produce the paperwork.”
But that would be bad for me, so I went with what always worked from an excuse standpoint. “This is the US military, man, it’s all in my jacket. There is no discharge-from-the-hospital paper trail for a black ops sniper. Gimme a break.”
“I––”
“And c’mon, all these questions are killin’ the mood.”
“There’s no mood, love. You can barely keep your eyes open.”
That was true. If you wanted rest, a hospital, especially a military one, wasn’t the place. But still, when he went to his knees, securing the cast with plastic and tape, I couldn’t help smiling wolfishly and waggling my eyebrows at him.
“Stop,” he said chuckling. “You’re in no condition to flirt with me.”
“I dunno about that.”
“You know, it occurs to me that this cast is really robust. Two weeks in the fiberglass cast and then into the boot—that seems like a long time for a break.”
“I don’t––”
“And why not a boot right away? Why this one first at all?”
What to say. “It might have been all they had at the field hospital,” I said, shrugging, without explaining about the titanium pins keeping my ankle together.
His eyes narrowed. “That makes no sense. You would think the boot would be more readily available.”
“I have no idea,” I lied.
“Tell me what happened.”
“Nothing to tell. I twisted it too far in the wrong direction. You know how it goes.”
He nodded and stood up. “Get in the shower.”
“Yessir.”
Once I was in with the water going, he opened the door. “Do you need me to hold you up in there?”