Because of You: A Loveswept Contemporary Military Romance (20 page)

Then a soldier who was using a weight machine tucked away in the corner caught his eye. Osterman. He wasn’t watching the celebration and his face was expressionless as he worked his body. He bent his leg into the motion of the machine, but didn’t seem to be making a real effort—his movements were listless, uninspired.

Once upon a time, Osterman had been hell on the heavy weapons systems, especially the fifty-cal. Now, though? Now he looked like life had beaten him down and had taken part of his soul instead of one of his legs.

“It’s just a damn leg. He has another one.” Carponti’s voice interrupted Shane’s thoughts, but for once, Shane didn’t mind.

“So missing an arm doesn’t bother you?” Shane asked.

“I think we covered the only part that bothers me and using my other hand is more like learning a new position.” Carponti scratched his beard. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Yeah, well, how the hell do we get him to see that?”

“You could kick his ass … never mind. Bad plan.”

Shane groaned at the weak joke. “What the hell can I say to him?”

“This is supposed to be your area of expertise. I ran out of ideas after dick jokes.”

“Let’s leave those as Plan B for now. Wait here, okay?”

He was surprised when Carponti didn’t argue. Osterman shot Shane a quick look as he approached and then looked back down at the weights he was using. “Finally got out of bed, huh?”

“Something like that.” Shane snorted quietly. “Sorry I haven’t been by to see you earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it. No one else has.” Even Osterman’s voice was flat. Lifeless. “Except my fiancée, who looks at me like I’m about to blow my head off every day, and Carponti, of course, who won’t leave me the hell alone. Not everyone thinks dick jokes are funny.”

“You used to laugh at them.”

“Yeah, well, I think I left my sense of humor back there in the sand.”

Shane tried not to stare at the empty space where the rest of Osterman’s leg had once been. He was grasping at straws, desperate for any topic that might span the space between them. “Yeah, well, it’ll find its way home at some point. Hang around Carponti a little more.”

Finally, Osterman met his eyes. “Feels like we’re not part of the unit anymore.”

Shane sighed. “I know. Hell, I can’t even get Captain Davila on the phone downrange.”

“Yeah, well, it’s better this way.” Osterman shifted the weights in his hands. “I’d cut me loose, too. Dead weight and all that.”

“That’s a whole lot of self-pity from someone who should be walking by now,” Shane said. Irritation surged inside and it was pointed dead center at himself. He felt the exact same way about the unit. Osterman had been the bigger man and had at least admitted it.

Osterman lifted himself from the machine and dragged his crutches beneath his arms. “I’ll pass on the ass chewing, thanks. I’ve had enough of those from you to last a lifetime.”

Never in the fourteen years since he’d first pinned on sergeant’s stripes had Shane ever been at such a loss for words. Once, he would have blasted the kid with both barrels and had him doing the mountain climber until his arms felt like rubber and he puked his guts up.

Now? Now Shane kept his mouth shut. He didn’t open his mouth to remind Osterman that he was still a soldier, that he was still one of Shane’s men, and that their boys still downrange expected better from him. He simply sat and let him quit. On him. On the team. On himself.

He had no fucking idea what to do next, except watch as Osterman hobbled away.

* * *

“I take it that went well?” Carponti said, strolling up to where Shane sat in his
wheelchair near the free weights. Physical therapy buzzed with noise and activity, but Shane heard none of it. The weights felt like a ton of bricks and he couldn’t find the strength to do even a light curl. He’d wanted to leave a half hour ago but he hadn’t because he didn’t trust himself to navigate in that stupid fucking chair. At least no one had bothered him. His therapist seemed to think he could handle lifting weights by himself and had been in a corner, talking to one of the female patients for the last twenty minutes. Apparently, the staff in PT was used to seeing a guy sitting quietly by himself. Shane didn’t want to consider what that meant about how often it happened. A
snap hiss
punctured the noise, then Carponti took a huge swill from a Dr Pepper can as he sat down next to Shane on the bench.

“Swimmingly.” Shane scrubbed his hand over his face then looked up to see Randall walking toward them, a black scowl on his face. “Why does he look pissed?” Shane asked.

Carponti took a long drink to buy himself some time. “Oh, maybe something about me ignoring a direct order.”

“About what?”

“Osterman.”

Before Shane could ask any further questions, Randall planted himself in front of them, blocking any possible exit for Shane unless he felt like using his legs as a battering ram to get past him. Which he didn’t. As much as the idea of running over the lieutenant appealed to him, it wouldn’t be worth the pain. Course, the moment Randall opened his mouth, Shane reconsidered.

“Explain to me why you released that soldier when I tasked you to hold him,
Sergeant Carponti.” Randall’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

Shane was reasonably sure that he was the last person on earth he wanted to see at that particular moment.

“Sorry.” Carponti raised the can to his lips again and there was no humor in his eyes. “My bad.”

Shane choked back a cough.
Sorry, my ass
. “Carponti, can you go get that file I asked you for?” Carponti opened his mouth to argue, but a dirty look from Shane made him snap it shut. They’d played this game one too many times for Carponti not to know the deal. Shane needed him gone but couldn’t come out and say it. His sergeant didn’t usually argue, but today, he stood fast.

Shane would digest that little tidbit of information later but right now, he turned his wheelchair so that he was facing his company executive officer. He hated that he had to look up at the lieutenant. “Seems like you need reminding that while Carponti might be a sergeant, he’s not back at work, and he damn sure isn’t your errand boy.”

“Sir. You will still observe military courtesy,” Randall said, “and call me fucking sir.”

Carponti folded his arms over his chest and grinned. “How’s the investigation? It can’t be that hard to find a couple of night vision goggles, can it … fucking sir?”

Randall turned a deep scarlet purple as Carponti finally sauntered off. “Guess you think that’s funny?” he asked Shane.

“They don’t respect you.”

“They don’t have to respect me, they have to respect my rank.”

“And it’s never occurred to you that if you’re constantly telling people to respect
your rank, it probably means they
never will
respect you?” Shane asked. “That doesn’t bother you?”

“I have an investigation to complete and you, Sergeant Garrison, are interfering with said investigation. You’ve instructed your men to avoid me and not answer questions, you’ve been flagrantly disrespectful, and you’ve encouraged the same behavior in your subordinates.”

“Are you done?” Shane folded his arms across his lap, elbows propped on the chair. “One, I never told anyone to avoid you. Two, I told them to keep copies of anything they give you from this point forward because I don’t trust you not to doctor evidence. Three, they’re fucking healing from combat injuries, you self-centered son of a bitch. Worrying about you is the last goddamned thing on their minds.”

“Goddamn it, I’ve had enough of your insubordinate cond—!”

“Excuse me, is there a problem?”

Jen’s voice sent a shiver of relief shooting across his skin. He didn’t answer her question. He simply raised both eyebrows at Randall, who was fuming.

“I’m going to have to ask that you keep your voice down or leave. Otherwise, I’m going to call hospital security,” she said calmly. She braced her hands on her hips and widened her stance like she expected to have to dodge him if he moved suddenly. But instead, Randall turned his attention back to Shane.

“You’re not going to continue to interfere with this investigation, Sergeant Garrison.” Randall marched off smartly, leaving wounded pride in his wake.

Shane fought the urge to high-five Jen. “Nice timing,” he said.

“Thanks. You looked like you needed a hand.” She sat on one of the wide, low
benches. She’d never looked more beautiful to him. Her smile was warm and sexy.

“Do you always try to piss him off?” she asked, folding her hands in her lap and resting her elbows on her knees.

“I make a special effort for him.”

“Can I ask why?”

“He got two of our men killed because he was a coward.”

She gasped and sat up abruptly, horror painted on her face. “Why isn’t he in jail?”

“There was a line-of-duty investigation and a Fifteen Six.” He frowned at the confusion on her face. “A Fifteen Six is like a fact-finding investigation run by the army and a line of duty determines whether something happened during duty or outside of it. Both investigations found him not at fault.”

“But you think he was?”

“I know he was. I was there.”

Jen frowned and rubbed her upper arms with her palms. “It doesn’t change anything, though, does it?”

“No. But I can do my part to keep him from forgetting. Every time he looks at me, I want him to know that I remember. And he will be judged someday. I just hope I’m around to see it.”

Jen shifted and twined her fingers in her lap.

“Does that bother you?” he asked.

“Does it matter what I think?” She lifted her eyes to his face, her expression inscrutable.

Shane cleared his throat. “So thanks for running him off.”

“Any time.” She smiled faintly and Shane wished for anything to banish the awkwardness between them. “Anyway. I have paperwork for you.”

Shane swallowed and glanced down at her hands, missing the quiet ease that had been between them. At least she hadn’t brought up the hard-on from hell. He had that going for him, anyway. “What kind of paperwork? It’s not another green insurance form, is it?”

She shifted and crossed her legs, wrapping her joined fingers around her knee. “The, ah, catheter was the last thing keeping you in the hospital. You’ll need regular pin cleaning and PT, but other than that, the docs looked at your progress and decided there’s no real reason to keep you in the hospital.” She sighed and folded her hands in her lap. “I know this is sooner than what we’d talked about.”

A loud buzzing filled his ears. His mouth went dry as the reality of what she was saying sank in. “So you’re saying …”

“Yeah. It’s discharge paperwork.” She shifted again and he wished he could come up with something to say. Anything other than the truth, that he had no place to go and no way to get there.

Shane closed his eyes and sighed hard. Reality really was a bitch sometimes.

* * *

Jen couldn’t name the emotion etched in the lines of his face. She’d figured that being released from the hospital would be a bad thing for Shane. His change in status was too new. He wasn’t comfortable in the chair yet. But the rules … she couldn’t argue with the rules. And now that his internal injuries no longer required monitoring, now that he was mobile, he was going home, no matter how much she disagreed with the doctors.

She remembered how she’d felt when she’d been sent home after her first chemo treatment. She’d been scared. Afraid of being alone. Afraid of falling down or drowning in her own vomit. Afraid of being too weak to get up the stairs by herself.

“This should be a good thing,” she remarked quietly, not believing her own lie.

“Would be if I had a home.” The muscles in his jaw jumped. He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t give her a clue about what was going on inside him. “I need to get Carponti back here.”

“Where did he go?” Jen asked.

“I sent him out of here so I could argue with Lieutenant Randall. He might have left.”

“Will you be staying with him?”

Shane snorted and dragged his hands over his face. “Not in this lifetime.”

“Why are you so pissed about this?” she asked abruptly.

Finally, he looked at her. “Before my divorce was all said and done, I let my ex take everything I had. I didn’t think it was worth fighting over. I canceled the lease on my apartment before I left for Iraq.”

There was such loathing in his voice. Such contempt. And she couldn’t find a reason for it.

Laura had been steadfast and loyal to Trent, and he’d still traded time with his family for time in the war zone. Laura didn’t deserve that. How could Jen judge Laura? The fact was, she couldn’t. Laura had decided she couldn’t hold her marriage together by herself, and it was the hardest decision she’d ever made in her life. Jen wondered if Shane knew what was going on between them, but it wasn’t her place to say anything.

“Doesn’t it take two to make a marriage fail?”

“Yeah, it does.” Shane shrugged and stared down at his hands. “The bottom line is that I wasn’t home. I can be angry at her for cheating on me, but when it counted, I wasn’t there.”

“She cheated?”

“Yeah. I’m trying to be grateful that she just left and wasn’t blowing half my platoon.”

“That doesn’t really happen.”

Shane shot her a baleful look. “You’d be surprised.”

His mood shifted like lightning, and the storm she’d seen on his face finally tore free. He slammed his fist against the arm of the chair, then dragged his hands over his face. “I hate this shit. I hate being fucking useless. I hate being stuck in a goddamned chair and I fucking hate having to call that miserable son of a bitch Randall sir.”

The force of his anger was sudden and unexpected. Several people in physical therapy turned to stare but the fury radiating from him was enough to force most to look away quickly.

“Shane—”

“Don’t.” He clicked the locks on his chair free. “Don’t tell me everything is going to be okay. Just … just don’t.”

It broke her heart to see him hurting. She watched him as he wheeled away from her, toward the automatic door. She wanted to fix this. She wanted to fix him, but he kept everything bottled up inside until it exploded. Except for when he’d first come home, he’d kept all the raw emotion hidden. Until now, when he realized he had nowhere to go
and couldn’t—no matter how badly he wished it were otherwise—be on his own just yet.