Back From Hell (Marine For You Book 2) (Contemporary Military Veteran Romance)

T
his is a work of fiction
. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to actual person—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of Sunshine Press. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

B
ack from Hell
is for everyone who has suffered with depression or PTSD. It’s a tough road to travel and there will be many times when you will feel alone. But, know that you’re not. There are people behind you, supporting you every step of the way. There’s no shame in reaching out for help. Stay strong and fight the demons that haunt you. In the end, you’ll be stronger for it. Never give up!

Believe in your dreams, chase them with everything you have, and when it gets lonely or hard, remember what you’re fighting for. Have faith because in the end it will be worth it. We’re behind you, supporting you at every crossroads.

I
would like
to take a moment to thank everyone who helped me make Back from Hell happen. This journey started with Rosa Sophia who, while editing Lucky Chance, said she could feel a good story coming from Kyle. Before her suggestion of giving him his own story I hadn’t planned to write it. Now, I couldn’t be happier. Kyle’s story came alive for me and brought home the struggles some of our military men and women come home with. We must never forget that they volunteered for their service to keep those of us at home safe and free. They deserve our utmost respect and appreciation.

Thank you, Dana Michelle Burnett, who took time out of her busy schedule to answer some questions on amputations and prosthesis. Also, thank you Lynn Peters for your help with the military healthcare side of Back from Hell.

I also would like to thank Teresa Riley, Allyson Brann, and my street team Marissa’s Dreamweavers, my amazing editors/proofreaders: Molly Daniels, Natalie Owens, and Brynna Curry.

Last but certainly not least, I would like to thank my amazing husband, Thomas. Those of you who read the dedications and acknowledgements of my books will see that he is mentioned in each of them. That’s because he is my biggest support. I don’t know if I would have ever published my first book without him. He’s incredible and I couldn’t have asked for a better soulmate. I love you, Thomas.

L
ance Corporal Kyle Phillips’s
life has been blown apart by an IED explosion. All the work he put in at boot camp is worthless. Now he feels he’s half the man he was before, with nothing to offer. His life fell apart in one brief moment and everything he worked for was gone. Better men than him died that day, and now he must come to terms with being chosen to live.

Staci Pence volunteers at a Veterans Affairs hospital in hopes that she could do something good. She had seen what the war had done to her father and in the end, he had taken his own life. Now she is using her own grief to save others. Her newest patient is Lance Corporal Phillips and while he believes he’s damaged goods, not worthy of living, she’s determined to show him otherwise.

Kyle had gotten to the point that he wished he’d died on that battlefield instead of living the life of half a man. That was until a woman with whiskey brown eyes and a feisty side strolled into his room looking to save him. Can he make peace with what has happened and open himself to the love Staci offers?

K
yle lay
in a hospital bed with his eyes closed so he didn’t have to look at what had become of his body. If he stayed that way, he could try to forget he’d lost a leg and arm in that IED explosion, leaving him half the man he was before. The burns along half of his body proved harder to forget. The pain down his side would not be denied.

Surgery after surgery helped to repair the damage left behind. That torturous experience had only done so much in returning him to the man he was before. There would always be scars along his face and body. Too many times he heard he should be thankful he was alive, while all the time he wished he had died overseas. It would have been better than living as a freak.

Gunnery Sergeant Lucky Diamond had left after Kyle refused to acknowledge the man who had been in charge of the fateful mission that left him so disfigured. How could he look his Gunnery Sergeant in the eyes, when he had failed? He was the one that handed the information to his Gunny and it not only left him in this state but had also gotten Weber killed.

Weber.
A tear rolled down his cheek for his brother in arms. They graduated boot camp together and this had been their first deployment. A deployment that Weber never came back from. If either of them had known, would they have decided to do something besides join the military once they graduated high school? Or would the fact they did ultimately bring down their target outweigh the loss they had encountered? Gunny Diamond might blame himself, but it was nothing like the guilt Kyle carried.

He’d carry that guilt for the rest of his days, but it wouldn’t change anything. He’d lost his friend and that hurt more than his own disfigurement. He and Weber had bonded over their training, encouraging each other through the worst parts, and now, when he needed his friend the most, he wasn’t here. That loss pained him more than the loss of his limbs.

“I’d rather be where you are, Weber.”

“Need something, Private First Class Phillips?” Brenda, the older day nurse, stood in his doorway. “I heard you talking to yourself. We have people who are paid to listen. Shall I get someone for you? Talking to thin air doesn’t help much.”

“No, thanks. I’m fine. Unless you can get me a bottle of whiskey.”

“You know the rules. If you start working with your physical therapist, you’ll be out of here in no time.”

He tipped his head to the side and glared at her. Even with the anger, it was hard to be mad at someone who looked so much like someone’s grandmother. All he wanted to do was get out of this place, but he wouldn’t be able to do that until he learned to walk with his damn prosthesis and use the prosthetic arm. Physical therapy was the last thing he wanted. Every time he did those damn things, he was reminded he would never be whole again. The prosthesis might make him appear more normal, especially when he had long sleeves and pants, but all it did was hide reality.

When he lay in bed, he could keep his eyes closed and, with the phantom pains, it was almost as if he still had his limbs. The pains might be agonizing but, in those brief moments, he could pretend he was whole. Yet, the minute he opened his eyes, there was no more pretending. Nothing could hide the way the sheets fell flat just below the knee, or the fact his arm was gone from just below the elbow. His doctors tried to reassure him that, with the aid of his prosthesis, he could live a normal life.
Normal life.
Who would want to spend the rest of their life with a man who couldn’t even hold them without the aid of some manmade arm?

“Just remember we’re only here to help. We want to see you regain your life again.”

Her words brought him back out of his thoughts for a moment and he watched her continue down the hallway. If they wanted to help him, they should just let him die.
Damn it Gunny, you should have let me die.
His earlier words rang through his thoughts. Even after the pain in Gunnery Sergeant Diamond’s eyes, Kyle still didn’t regret them. He wished he were dead rather than have to deal with this. He wasn’t sure how to face the world again. Or even what to do with his life now.
What do I have to offer to anyone anymore?

He glanced around the room and the need to get out of there rose within him. He didn’t know where he’d go. He’d need aftercare and, as a foster child, he had no family to fall back on. His last foster family sent occasional letters to him but there was no chance he could stay with them while he figured out what to do with his life. Even his girlfriend of over two years had abandoned him. She couldn’t deal with how he looked now.

“How did I miss how shallow she was?” The answer was as clear as his missing limbs. He’d overlooked it because he didn’t want to see the truth. He wanted to enjoy the time they had together instead of thinking about their fights every time he put his military service before her. The biggest fight had happened just hours before he deployed. She wanted a serviceman on her arm because of
how good they looked in uniform
, her words, but she didn’t want to deal with everything else that came along with it. He was naïve to think that with time she could overcome her issues and support him.

Alone and on the brink of a new life that he didn’t want, he was ready to end it all. It might have been the easy way out but he didn’t have the strength needed to endure the future days. A lone ship lost in the middle of darkness, no one would mourn for him. He wouldn’t be missed.

He closed his eyes and he could almost hear his drill instructor hollering at him.
Get up, Marine! There’s no quit in a Marine.

S
taci Pence dropped
her bag behind the nurses’ desk and prepared to do her rounds on the ward to see who might be interested in talking with her. Twice a week she came to the hospital to meet with service members who needed someone to confide in, or just a friendly little chat. Sometimes it was easier to talk to someone who was there as a friend than it was to talk to a counselor.

She had seen the cost of war in her father’s eyes. Now, in his memory, she did whatever she could to give back. One last semester and then she hoped to get a job at the hospital as a physical therapist. That would lead her to her ultimate dream of owning a horse ranch. She enjoyed being a physical therapist and maybe, somehow, she could still manage to do it, although the horse ranch was deeply engrained in her veins.
One step at a time and you’ll reach your dreams.

“Staci, I’ve got someone I’d like you to visit.” Brenda moseyed up next to her and leaned against the counter.

“Anything you need.” She looked down at the older woman, who was a good five inches shorter than her five foot six. The nurse’s dark hair mixed with gray pulled back in a bun gave her a grandmotherly feel. Maybe that was why, over the past year during which Staci had been visiting the hospital patients, Brenda had taken her under her wing, leading her to the ones that needed someone the most, so she trusted Brenda’s choice. “You going to give me the story on this patient or are you sending me in blind?”

“Private First Class Phillips is having a hard time adjusting to his life now.” A buzz from one of the machines in the room across the hall had Brenda moving away from the counter. “He’s the last room on the right, but don’t be surprised if he’s unwilling to talk to you. He’s a grumpy cat.”

“I’ll see what I can do for him.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and headed toward the room Brenda pointed out. She tried not to remember how many times her mother had said those very words.
Dad’s having a hard time adjusting to life. Don’t worry and go play.
Maybe if she had worried, or if PTSD wasn’t something to be ashamed of, things would have been different. Back then, PTSD wasn’t something that was talked about; it was a deep dark secret kept hidden away in shame. Everyone tried to forget it.

From the doorway, she could only make out a figure in bed. With the curtains drawn and the only light shining coming from the hallway, it was hard to make out any details. She tapped on the door. “Private First Class Phillips?”

“Go away,” he ordered without looking toward the door.

“I’m not a doctor, I have no medication, and I’m not here to question you or give you orders.”

“Then what do you want?”

She took that as close to an invite as she was going to get and strolled toward the bed. “Just to talk. We can discuss whatever you want. I’m only here to visit.”

“Unless you brought whiskey, I don’t want a visitor and I don’t need anyone’s pity. I just want to be left alone.”

“Do whiskey brown eyes count?” As she neared the bed, she realized that the sheets fell flat where his left leg should have been.

That time he did turn and glare at her, but after a moment, a small smile spread across his face. “While I might be able to get lost in those eyes, I was talking about a bottle of whiskey. Now you didn’t just stumble upon my room, so who sent you?”

“One of the nurses, Brenda, thought you could use someone to talk to. Someone that isn’t here to judge you or determine if you’re fit for duty. Just a friend.” She raised an eyebrow at the deep laugh that vibrated his whole body.

“Fit for duty…” His words trailed off as he tugged back the sheet so she could see the full extent of his injuries. “You must be crazy. I’m being medically discharged. Everything I’ve worked for tossed down the drain. I should have died.”

“You were given a second chance at life, which means you’re meant to do something amazing.”

“Like this? What good is half a man?”

She pulled the cover back over him, not because she was disgusted by what she saw but to keep the burns and bandages protected. “You’re still the man you were before. Just because you’re injured doesn’t make you less so. Physical therapy will help you learn to use the prosthetic leg. You’ll be able to walk and drive again. You can do the same with the prosthetic arm, but most get to the point where they become comfortable without it.”

“How do you know so much about this? From what I can see, you have all your limbs intact.”

“I’m in my last semester to become a physical therapist. I’ve worked with many amputees over the years, some through rehab but most of them right here in this hospital. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you it’s easy but you’re a Marine, you don’t give up. You’ll push through in the end. You’ll be stronger and you’ll get your life back.”

“That’s easy for you to say; you’re not the cripple.”

“I think you need to consider that things could be worse. You still have one good arm and leg. Some who come back don’t have that. You’ll learn to do things with your other arm and you will move past this. You survived. So many others didn’t.” She tried not to sound harsh but she knew first-hand the cost of war. His reactions were natural but from the look of things and the fact he wasn’t drugged up from the pain, she knew he had been here for some time. He needed a wakeup call because, with his burns healing, he’d be discharged from the hospital in a few days.

“I’d rather have been one of those who didn’t make it back. I’d have changed places with Weber in a heartbeat if it meant he’d be able to come back to his wife and son.”

“You believe you’re half a man because of your injuries, but you’d want someone else to suffer them instead of you. Cruel, isn’t that?”

“If it meant he’d be here with his family, then yes, I’d gladly change places with him. Half a man is better than dead.”

“You’re right there, and you should be thankful you’re still alive.” She stood, grabbed one of the small cards she carried, and held it out to him. “My name and number. If you want to talk, call me and I’ll stop by.” When he didn’t take it, she placed it on the bedside table.

“I don’t need your pity.”

“Good because I don’t pity you.” When she reached the door she turned back to look at him one final time. “Think about what I said. You’ve been given a second chance at life. Don’t waste it.”

She forced herself to walk from his room and into the hallway. To see him with such sadness in his eyes tore at her heart. That look was the same one her father had when he returned to the ranch. Only her father hadn’t lost any limbs; he’d had burns over half his body from an incident that had killed the rest of this team. She might have been harsh on Phillips, but if it kept him from doing what her father did, then that’s all that mattered. He needed to accept things as they were so he could move on and begin to live again.

“Any luck with PFC Phillips?” Brenda stood just a few feet away making notes in a chart.

“Not really. He’s angry, and like you said, he’s having a hard time dealing with this. Has a therapist spoken with him? Someone with more training than I have?”

“He has more than enough medical staff pestering him. What he needs is a friend. The only one that’s come to visit him is Gunnery Sergeant Diamond, his old platoon sergeant. Even then, he barely acknowledged him.”

“I’m not feeling very well today, but I’ll come back in a few days and try to talk to him again.”

“You’re not coming down with something, are you?”

“No, nothing like that. Just a headache. My neighbor had a big bash yesterday and it ran late into the night. So with the lack of sleep and everything, it’s not helping. I think I better just head home.” She continued on her way down the hall before Brenda could question her further. It wasn’t a complete lie; she did have a minor headache, but it was due more to the memories that refused to leave her alone than to her neighbor’s party.

She grabbed her bag from the nurses’ station and sped up her pace. For the first time since she’d started coming to the hospital, she was in a rush to leave. She needed to put some distance between her and the PFC. What she didn’t understand was why the memories came flooding back to her now. It had been years ago when her father was in a similar position to PFC Phillips and even then, she’d been just a little girl. What did she know about what her father had actually gone through? All she had to give her any insight about him was an old leather-bound journal he had kept a daily log in.

The journal had been mostly filled with rants, but it was the emotions within the words that got her. So full of hate, passion, anger, and love. The words that filled the pages showed the battle her father had gone through. No one had tried to help him. Maybe she was just one person but she tried to do her best to save just one life—so she did what she set out to do. She used her own tragedy to do something good and stop another family from suffering further loss. If more people helped then maybe the veterans’ suicide rate wouldn’t be so high.