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He scowled. “How the hell do you think I’m doing?” he said, his hand curled into a fist. His voice was as cold as the desert at night. “There’s enough steel in my left leg to build a small car. I may never be able to walk without a cane. My career is over. Other than that, everything’s perfect.”
“That’s tough,” she said. She started to reach for his hand. Stopped when he snatched it out of her reach. “I know you loved your job. Your team. The way you were able to help people. I’m sorry, Jase.”
He shrugged one shoulder and looked out the window instead of at her. “Part of the deal,” he said, but bitterness resonated in his voice.
“I saw you get shot,” she said softly.
“You and about ten thousand other people,” Jase shot back, anger thrumming in his voice. “Doesn’t make you special.”
Laila held herself rigid to stop her involuntary flinch. “I tried to get out of the plane to get to you.” She swallowed the remembered fear. Fury. “That Marine held me down. Wouldn’t let me go to you.”
“He was doing his job,” Jase said immediately. “Why would he let you become a target, too?”
“Because I needed to be with you,” she said.
“Nothing you could have done.” He continued to stare out the window, but one hand pressed against his thigh. “You were better off going home.”
“I didn’t want to go home,” she said. “I wanted to be with you.”
“For what? To hold my hand? Make me feel better?” He snorted. “Trust me. It wouldn’t have helped.”
She swallowed, absorbing the blow. “No,” she managed to say. “So you wouldn’t be alone. I couldn’t bear that you were alone.”
He snorted again. “I haven’t been alone for two and a half weeks.” He waved his hand around the small room. “At least I don’t have a roommate. But there’s one damn person after another through the door every hour of the day and night.”
“Is there anything you need?” she asked. “I can get anything you want.”
“How about a new leg, Laila?” He finally turned to look at her, and anger burned in his eyes. “Can you get me one of those? Huh?”
“I wish I could,” she said softly.
They sat in uncomfortable silence for too long. Finally Jase said, “Why the hell did you come here?”
Time to put it all on the table. “Because I love you, Jase,” she said, her voice soft. “Of course I want to see you. Talk to you. Do whatever I can for you.”
“You love me.” He made them sound like dirty words. “How the hell can you love a ruined guy? A man who can’t do the only job he’s been trained to do?”
“Your leg is one small part of you. Your injury doesn’t define you, Jase. It’s only an obstacle to be overcome.”
He flinched. “Stop with the psychobabble. I get enough of that shit from the damn therapist. You think that makes me feel any better? You think that makes everything okay? Hell, no, it doesn’t.”
Time to try something different. “How much longer will you be here at Walter Reed?” she asked.
He shrugged one shoulder. “Depends on how the rehab goes. Could be a month. Could be six months. I got no idea.”
“Where will you go when you’re released?” she asked.
“No fucking idea,” he said, gripping the sheet on the bed.
“You could come stay with me,” she said. “There are some great hospitals in Madison. Good rehab facilities. No stairs in my house.”
He was shaking his head before she’d finished speaking. “No. I’ll figure it out myself.”
His rejection made her chest ache. She knew he was angry. Resentful. Probably depressed. “We all need help sometimes, Jase,” she murmured.
“Give it up, Laila.” He finally met her gaze. “Forget about me. Go home and live your life. I have to focus on my rehab.”
“You don’t mean that,” she said immediately.
