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“I have to go talk to my mother.”
“Oh, Connor. No, you don’t have to—”
I shook my head. “Ineedto. I have to ask her why. This isn’t something I can ignore for the day, to wait until I go home tonight. I need to ask hernow. In person. Please understand that.”
He let out a little sigh. “I understand. But please hurry back? After everything, all I wanna do is lay in bed with you. I feel like a wall between us was knocked down.” He smiled, rolled his eyes and looked up. “The weight from my shoulders is gone. And now this? Connecting like this?”
I kissed him. “I’ll be back soon. I promise. Keep your phone on you because I might be calling from the road. I need the truth from her. I need to share as soon as I hear it.”
He gave me a quick peck. I dressed and was out the door. Heard the deadbolt slide home behind me after the door closed. Ever the cop, my Bennett. Safety first, even in a neighborhood without crime.
I white-knuckled my way home. Wrote the dialogue with my mother in my head in seconds, equipped with “if this, then that” scenarios, depending on how she would respond.
There was one more truth left, and it was hers alone to give.
ChapterEighteen
MYBANDAGEDLEGstretched out along the footrest of the extended recliner. The recovery area could have been better, but this was an infirmary in the middle of Afghanistan. Who would expect the best of the best? I sipped on water while attempting to get caught up on the Harry Potter fad. Something about a cup and flames? I couldn’t focus. The cocktail they had me on made things a little hazy from time to time. Kept the pain at bay. Only three days ago I was in the field hospital blasted out of my mind on the best drugs the military industrial complex could buy. Now, here in recovery, my injections weren’t as potent.
It didn’t prevent me from always turning my mind toward Bennett. Why hadn’t he called yet? I must have asked a thousand times to use the phones but they refused. Wouldn’t even let me near a computer. They forced me to stay in this shitty little recovery corner of the infirmary. Lieutenant Carillo—Marcus, he always insisted—had taken it upon himself to dote on me every second. I needed a week of constant reminders that I didn’t have to refer to my nurse as “sir,” that the decorum in the infirmary was a little more relaxed than other areas of the base. Marcus had encouraged more than what felt comfortable. He was with me at the field hospital and insisted he oversee my recovery in the infirmary. He numbered among the few who overheard me crying for Bennett. Told me my secret was safe with him.
I flipped the page of the book with no idea what I just read. At least it let me zone out, in a way. I didn’t have to think about Bennett. Did he like this wizard shit? I never recalled him talking about reading it. We were too busy, whenever we were together. I think he might have brought a book down to the river once. Yeah, like reading was gonna happen.
Shit. Stop thinking about Bennett.
I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and turned my head. Medical personnel surrounded a man in civilian clothing. He had slicked back black hair, cleanly shaven face, and appeared to be in good shape. A captain gestured around the infirmary bay’s entrance. A long line of beds separated us while I sat tucked into my corner at the far end. My eyes locked with the civilian for a moment. Something passed between us.
What was that?He was handsome, sure. Not my type. He wasn’t shorter and stacked like a fucking bulldog. Who was flexible. And insatiable. And wanted…
Stop, Con. Stop.
The civilian walked away with the captain and into one of the side rooms. I returned to my book. More magic.
I dozed off for a bit and woke with a sore leg despite the cocktail. So, per orders, I hobbled up out of the recliner and found my cane. I passed one of the full-length mirrors they used in this area for stretching. Beanpole thin and tall, bit of stubble on my face. I had just gotten into the habit ofreallyputting in the effort to work out. One of my buddies showed me all the right moves in the fitness center, how to transition my boyhood body to that of a man. After only a month I could already see a shift in my body. I had wondered if Bennett would like it. He always commented on how tall I was. Did he like that I had been lanky? Would he like it if I grew more muscle? Why hadn’t he called me?
Stop. Jesus, Con.
Marcus materialized from somewhere, sliding from my blind spot to help me along. He stood near Bennett’s height, with tanned skin, dark hair, and a killer smile.
Marcus’s hands went to my arm and to my hip as he helped me forward. “Why are you up?” he asked me. His eyes never left mine whenever he spoke to me, as if he tried to convey something other than his words.
“Fell asleep and I’m sore.”
“You should get back to the recliner,” Marcus suggested. “I can rub your leg down again.”
His rubdowns consisted of digging his thumbs high into my inner, upper thigh. The act helped to relieve discomfort, but it aroused other things in me that I wasn’t ready to let happen. He noticed, too. I saw that he saw. I had never turned redder and he only laughed it off. He smiled at me more often after that.
“Need to move around,” I told him. He had a too-strong grip on my waist. “That all right?”
“Tough guy Clarke,” Marcus said through a smile and shook his head. “You sure you don’t want me to help you back to the recliner?”
The invitation felt like it carried more. I thought of Bennett, how I wantedhimto help me to the recliner, not some handsy second lieutenant who insisted I call him by his first name.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said. “Thank you, though.”
I cane-walked into the main room of the infirmary. The injuries of the three patients occupying the beds were not serious. Burns along the leg of one guy, broken arm for another, and a third who took a bullet in his shoulder after seeing some shit. Some serious shit. I made my way over to him. Private Erik Lee had a thousand-yard stare.
“’Sup, dickwad,” I told him.
