Page 101 of Keeping a Warrior

He threaded their fingers together and squeezed her hand, his eyes conveying his understanding.

Devon squeezed back.

In more ways than one.

Chapter Eighteen

They made it to Kandahar without incident, then almost immediately boarded a C-17 bound for Ramstein Air Base in Germany. Rhys waited until Devon spread out her woobie before kneeling next to her, hoping...

With a smile, she pulled him down and they spent the entire flight wrapped in each other’s arms, uncaring who saw. Rhys stroked her hair as she slept on his chest, her warm weight and soft breathing a balm to his weary soul.

Aaron crouched down at one point, his eyes troubled. “Hey, man, I need to tell you about Lani—”

Rhys held up his hand. “Not now. Please.” He didn’t want to think about Lani while he had Devon so sweetly nestled against him. There’d be time for all that later, when they got back to Coronado. He and Devon had earned the little interlude to come, and Rhys was determined they both enjoy it.

After landing, the platoon strode down the ramp and commandeered a passing pickup truck, demanding the driver take them to Landstuhl immediately.

Stinking of combat, bushy beards and all, the SEALs swarmed into the military hospital and made obnoxious nuisances of themselves until someone looked Shane up on a computer and directed them to his floor.

When they stomped off the elevator, a burly male nurse was there to meet them.

“Two at a time,” he started to say, but the platoon brushed him aside like a gnat and all fifteen of them—plus Devon—crowded into Shane’s room.

Rhys, caught at the back of the pack, couldn’t really see anything, but he heard the horrified exclamations.

“Jesus, Hov! You get your face caught in a meat grinder or something?”

“What the hell, buddy?”

When Rhys finally caught a glimpse of him, he winced. Shane’s head was wrapped in what looked like miles of bandages, and what could be seen of his face puffy and bruised. The skin around his eyes was blackened, the whites of his eyeballs themselves streaked with red.

There was no mistaking that high-wattage smile, though. “Do I look that bad?”

“Well, you never looked that good, to be honest.”

“Ugly motherfucker, you.”

To avoid jostling him, guys patted his legs, his belly, his hands, their concern evident under the gruff jokes and crude humor. Matt stood off to the side, his agitation increasing, until finally Devon called out, “Hey, guys, go get some coffee and give Shane a breather. I’m sure we all stink to high heaven.”

“Yeah, you kinda do,” the nurse snarked from the hallway, his jaw clenched. The SEALs, totally unconcerned with his annoyance, clapped him on the shoulder as they passed.

“Take a real good whiff, son, ’cause we’re gonna be back,” Smudge growled. “Point us to the coffee.”

Before the door had even closed, Matt had already bent over the bed to stroke his thumb across Shane’s lips. “You really gonna be okay?” he choked out as Shane pulled him down for a kiss.

Devon grabbed Rhys’s biceps. “Make sure no one comes in,” she hissed. “They need a minute alone.”

With a nod, Rhys slipped out to lean against the wall next to the closed door, where he proceeded to engage in a staring contest with the pissed-off nurse, who acted like he wanted to go in.

“Nope,” Rhys grunted. “You’re gonna give my friends five minutes.”

Five minutes, after days of agonizing worry. If only the nurse could understand what Matt had gone through. As tough as he himself was, he doubted he would’ve held it together half as well after seeing Devon fragged by shrapnel right in front of him.

And you’re gonna have to let her go right back to Afghanistan. You know that, right? She’ll be in harm’s way every single day.

The thought made him want to puke, even as his fear warred with his immense pride in her.

It was more like fifteen minutes before the rest of the guys got back, coffee, soda and candy bars in hand, and it was a party around Shane’s bed until the nurse finally prevailed on them to let him rest.