The Deeper He Hurts (23 page)

The only ones who'd ever breached his barriers when he'd been positive no one ever would. Nine days trapped behind enemy lines with them, fighting their way through hell, scared out of their fucking minds the entire time, witnessing and performing acts they'd signed up for and somehow never believed they'd do, had seared them both into his heart.

Finn cleared his throat and fought back the burn scorching his sinuses. He stepped away, too weak to take more of what Tanner offered.

“I'll call Rig,” Finn said, heading down the hall to the kitchen, working to keep his gait fluid. The next task would suck more than any of the physical therapy he'd been through in the last months—and that'd been more debilitating and horrible than anything he'd experienced in the service.

He grabbed his cellphone from the counter, found Rig's number, and pressed Call without looking at Tanner. He sensed him, though, his presence crowding the room he'd never thought of as cramped until now.

“It's about fucking time you called,” Rig stated when he answered. Finn winced, his stomach flipping. He deserved that, but he refused to feel guilty. He'd basically isolated himself in his home since he'd been freed from the rehab center in November. Seeing the vital, healthy Marines who populated the adventure company he'd founded with Chris only emphasized his own broken state.

“Do you have any damn clue how selfish your goddamn actions have been?” Rig went on. “Are you done being an asshole?”

He understood how he'd hurt those who'd wanted to help him. What they didn't understand was his inability to accept their help, how ashamed he'd been over his disabilities, and still was. He'd spent thirty-eight years building up and maintaining his physical strength, honing every muscle to respond quickly and on reflex to any threat, only to wake up one day unable to feed himself, let alone talk or piss.

The pause lengthened on the phone, words flowing in and out of his mind before he could speak. In the end, he said only what was needed. “Tanner's here.”

“Shit.” Rig's breathy response held the note of understanding edged with pain that'd probably been in his own tone as well. “Three hours?”

Finn glanced at the clock and calculated the needed prep. “Sure.”

“I'm on it.” Rig cleared his throat, the low rumble barely reaching him through the connection. “We'll meet you there.”

He hung up, the silence settling around him to magnify the awareness prickling over his neck and grinding into his skull. His hands started to tremble, the motion so slight most wouldn't notice. He did, though. Every quirk and hitch was amplified into a glaring blast of his current failings.

He was working on it. Getting better each day.

But would he ever get back to his former self?

He turned around, braced his fists on the counter. His thoughts rambled in a jumbled glob that he tried to sort through for the most relevant thread. Tanner's frown deepened the longer he remained silent. He should speak, say something. But the words weren't there.

Poof,
they'd all evaporated in the blink of time it'd taken him to assess the lingering fallout of his head injury and subsequent coma.

“Three hours then?” Tanner asked.

There it was. Finn yanked ahold of the line and reeled it in until he found the connection to his voice. “Yes.”

“How long will the drive take?”

“Fifteen, twenty minutes.”

“Do we need to get anything? Call anyone else?”

“No. Rig's handling it.”

Tanner moved around the peninsula bar, placed his hand over one of Finn's clenched fists. He dipped until he caught Finn's gaze. His voice was firm when he spoke, conviction pure and strong. “We'll get through this.”

They would. But how?

He'd been trying to figure that out for seven long months and was still as lost regarding the answer as he'd been when he'd first learned how drastically everything had changed.

“We should get ready,” he said, siphoning strength from the simple fact that no explanation had been needed between them. Between any of his fellow military brothers. He'd been waiting for Tanner to execute what his therapists said he should've done months ago.

They hadn't understood his refusal, but the Kick team had. They were ready now, and with Tanner here, he was too.

Love stories you'll never forget

By authors you'll always remember

eOriginal Romance from Random House

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