Page 104 of Rescuing Mary

By the time the doctor left, Mary still hadn’t made a decision but she’d realized exactly how much she’d kept from Truck—and how amazing it was to have someone to talk to about it all. She’d kept a lot of things about her sickness from him, having felt awkward and uncomfortable sharing intimate details. Heck, she wasn’t comfortable peeing without shutting the door; she wasn’t going to discuss how she sometimes forgot what state Las Vegas was in when she got hot flashes, or ask him for help when the drain she had in suddenly started leaking all over her shirt.

When Truck had asked the doctor about sex and children, it hit home to Mary that she’d been treating Truck unfairly for months. She’d been holding back. Scared that he didn’t really want to be with her. That he might think he cared about her, but if he knew all the gritty details about her disease, he’d bail.

He’d made it more than clear that he loved her and she was it for him. Mary just hadn’t been paying attention. She’d been too convinced that he’d leave her, too busy keeping her shields up just in case he decided she wasn’t worth the effort, like every other man in her life had.

She owed him an apology, but she had to get him home and settled first.

“Ready to go?” his doctor asked in a cheery voice as he came into Truck’s hospital room late in the afternoon of his second day.

“A day and a half ago,” Truck grumbled.

Mary hid her smile. Truck had been bitching about the fact that the doctor hadn’t signed him out yet for the last hour and a half.

“You were incredibly lucky,” the doctor said, not fazed in the least by his grumpy patient. “Pulling those wires right before the explosion saved your life. Only the upper explosives went off, blowing the table from where it was bolted to the floor. When it crashed into you, it protected you from the worst of the blast, but landing on your head wasn’t exactly the ideal outcome. Since your noggin took two pretty intense hits only a few weeks apart, you need to be extremely careful for the next three months.”

“Shit,” Truck said.

“That’s right. You’re grounded. No missions for at least that long. We’ll do another MRI in two months and make sure the bruising on your brain is gone and that everything looks okay in there. Then we’ll give it another month just to be on the safe side. If you start having any of the side effects we talked about yesterday, you need to get in here to see me ASAP. I’m serious about this, Ford. Traumatic brain injury isn’t something to mess around with. Blackouts, anxiety, aggression, repetition of words or actions, dilated pupils, nausea, sensitivity to light or sound, blurred vision—”

“I remember, Doc,” Truck said, interrupting the litany of symptoms of a TBI.

“Right.” He turned to Mary. “Just keep your eye on him. Soldiers frequently try to hide their symptoms because they feel like they should just tough it out or because they’re embarrassed.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” Mary told him.

“Good. Now, Ford, do you still have a headache?”

Truck nodded reluctantly.

“I don’t think it’s anything to be worried about right now. They should dissipate after a week or so. I’d like for you to stay in bed for another week, just to let your brain heal.”

“Not happening,” Truck said. At the same time Mary said, “I’ll see to it.”

The doctor grinned. “I don’t envy you, young lady. Here’s his prescription for painkillers. He’ll need to come back in about a week to get those staples looked at and hopefully removed. They can get wet, but not immersed. No washing your hair, just brief rinses.”

Mary nodded, knowing the next week was going to be tough on both her and Truck. Ways to keep him entertained ran through her head even as the doctor kept talking about what to expect in the upcoming week. She could have Annie come over after school, and make sure the guys took turns visiting him as well.

“If anything happens that concerns you, don’t hesitate to contact me,” the doctor said, and he handed Mary a business card. “That’s my answering service, but just tell them that it’s an emergency and they’ll get to me right away and I’ll call you back. Okay?”

Mary nodded, relieved that she’d have access to someone if Truck needed it.

“I’m fine,” Truck said again.

“Right. And in case I didn’t say it before…thank you for your service, and good job on stopping those assholes at the bank.” Then the doctor turned and walked out of the room. Before Mary could say anything, his head popped back in. “And wait for the nurse with the wheelchair, Laughlin. I know you manly types don’t like to be pushed out of here, but it’s policy. Give her a break, okay?” Then he disappeared once more.

Mary chuckled at the look on Truck’s face. “It won’t be so bad,” she soothed.

It took the nurse another half hour to appear and once they were finally on their way, Mary breathed a sigh of relief. She’d brought up the subject of Truck going back to her apartment once he was out of the hospital, so she could look after him, but he’d said he was going home to his place in no uncertain terms, and she was coming with him.

Mary didn’t protest too hard, since that’s exactly where she wanted to be. She’d have to go back to her place and get her things. But first she’d get Truck settled, make him some dinner and, once he was asleep, she’d run back to her apartment. He’d never even know she was gone, especially when she forced him to take one of the pain pills the doctor prescribed.

She parked, and by the time she went around to help Truck out, he was already standing by the door.

Mary frowned. “You’re supposed to let me help you,” she told him, wrapping her arm around his waist.

“Why? My legs are just fine. It’s my head that was hurt.”

“Because,” Mary groused. She ignored Truck’s chuckle and walked with him to his apartment. She let him unlock the door, and when he held it open for her to go in ahead of him, she didn’t even complain.