Titanium (11 page)

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Mo-
om!"
Zander tipped his head back with a
groan.

His mother stared him down. "I'm simply trying to
understand what's going on here."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He snapped the
question.

"In light of your disability, I've been worried that you'll
never, um--"

I coolly cut her off before more damage was done. "No
boyfriend, but I have high hopes for Zander. I mean, we're already
sleeping together." I gave her my sweetest smile.

Zander choked. Sneaking a peek to see if he was pissed, I
saw a neutral expression except for a slight lip twitch that told me
laughter lurked.

As for Denise, she clearly didn't know what to say. So I
changed the subject to something less volatile--her grandkids.
Somehow we made it through dinner and a short visit
afterward.

To say I was happy to see them go barely described my
relief. Zander looked nothing but ecstatic. We made short work of
cleaning the kitchen, after which I paid some bills online.

When I finished, I stood up and stretched. "My bed or yours
tonight, Xman?"

His face lit up. "Really?"

I faked ambivalence. "Only if you want to."

Nothing sounded better than Riley sleeping within reach.
"Hell yeah."

"Then let's make it my bed. It's bigger."

It was much later before we finally turned in and only after a
couple of hours talking about nothing, thank God. I did not want to
talk about my folks.

I'll admit I felt pretty tense as I took off the leg and waited
while Riley crawled between the sheets and settled in beside me.
Ensuring the bad leg was on the side away from her, I lay flat on my
back and resisted slipping an arm under her neck even though it felt
like the next logical move.

She turned on her side to face me, one arm tucked under her
head. "Knowing when people are fibbing must be a real bitch."

So we were going to talk about the dysfunctional Bennetts
after all. Might as well get it over with. "Yeah."

"I don't think they were lying when they said they loved
you."

Not meaning to, I turned to face her. "No, but they'd
probably love me more if I'd lived the life they planned for me."

"Could you have?"

"Never. I wanted to do something that mattered. I wanted to
help the world, even if it was only as a grade school PE teacher."

"So elementary education was going to be your college
major?"

"Kinesiology with a minor in elementary ed. Now look at me.
No use to anyone."

"I can't believe you said that,
Al-ex
."

"Call me Lex, call me Zander, call me shithead. Just don't call
me Alex."

She burst out laughing. "Okay, shithead."

I goosed her.

Riley squealed and slapped my hands away. That resulted in
a tickle fight that knocked my heart rate into triple digits. When we
both stopped laughing, she tried to make amends for my parents.
"You're useful to me,
Zan-der
. Just look what you've done so
far. Saved my life. Paid half my rent. Turned this crappy apartment
into a home. You totally fill it up, you know, and I'm not sure what I'd
do without you."

I couldn't even answer.

Riley poked me in the ribs. "Hey, you! I know that you know
I'm not lying."

"I do for a fact."

She smiled into the dark, but I saw it. "How'd you first figure
out you could tell when someone was lying?"

"It dawned on me gradually. Someone would say something
that I doubted for no particular reason. I'd later learn they'd lied.
When I was eight, I went to my best friend's birthday party. I gave
him a Nerf gun. He told me he didn't already have one, but I knew
somehow he did even though I'd never seen it. Later his kid sister
blabbed the truth--his grandfather had given him the same gun the
night before. I began to test my gut by having Angela deliberately lie
to me, sort of like you tried the other day."

She nodded.

"I always knew when she did. The rest is history, I guess.
History my folks would love to forget. Would you believe neither of
them has ever shown any interest in what I can do even though I've
offered to let them test me, too? Maybe they think I'm lying or
something."

Riley touched my cheek. "Tell me what you do at
Brook."

Letting her change the subject, I gave her the official spiel.
"I'm undergoing polytrauma rehab, which means I'm being treated
for injuries to multiple body parts and organs. I was one of the lucky
ones. Some guys require an extraordinary level of clinical and
support services. At this point, my regimen involves rebuilding
upper and lower body strength, some hip rehab, and some balance
training. I have a shrink, too, and an occupational therapist to help
prepare me mentally for life without a leg."

"So when are you going to tell me what really happened in
Kabul, and don't you dare say landmine. I know better."

Damn. I'd known leaving her outside the locker rooms was
the wrong thing to do. But I couldn't exactly take her into the
showers with me. "How do you know?"

"Maybe you're not the only one who can tell if someone's
spouting bull."

"And maybe one of my so-called buddies has a big mouth."
Les, I guessed. Or maybe Dom. She'd met them both now.

She switched gears. "He didn't mean to tell."

"I'll bet." Pissed, I lay there in silence for a moment wording
things in my head. "We were interrogating a man we believed had
explosives. His little boy broke through ranks. Someone had
strapped an IED to him. It went off. End of story." I shuddered as
memory after Technicolor memory tumbled into my consciousness.
"I still see that sweet little face every time I close my eyes. He didn't
have a clue what was about to happen. He thought we had candy for
him." My voice cracked.

"Why did you lie to me about this?"

"I wanted to spare you the visual."

"No wonder you have bad dreams." Riley snuggled up, a
change in position that was a definite improvement since her head
now rested on my shoulder and my arm was where it should be.
"You said you have a job in mind for later?"

"My therapist is trying to talk me into something. She's the
person I met with yesterday. She thinks I'd be good with little kids
who are missing limbs."

"What'd you tell her?"

"I told her what you told your dad. Said I'd think about
it."

"You'd be wonderful at that, you know."

I shrugged and deliberately switched topics. "What's your
major?"

"Public health. I want to be the person who talks to people
living on the street. I want to give them sandwiches and medicine
and condoms. I want to hear their stories and figure out ways to
help."

"Even if they're there because they're drunks, or addicts, or
just plain lazy?"

"Everyone deserves kindness, forgiveness, and a second
chance."

Her grace didn't surprise me. "Did you know there are
around sixty-three-thousand homeless vets in the US on any given
night? And that number has come down from what it was three years
ago, thanks to a White House push to get our guys off the street.
Injured vets, in particular, have a high risk of homelessness."

"My heart is breaking."

Knowing it really was, I pulled her closer.

Riley raised her head and brushed her lips over mine,
contact I felt right to the core. At that very moment, I understood just
how deeply involved I really was. It scared the shit out of me. This
had gone way past the point of wounded-vet-temporarily-basks-in-
the-warmth-of-her-sunshine to Zander, the handicapped fool, falling
for Riley, the girl with the soft heart.

I'd never know if she saw me as a man instead of a rescue.
While she might not be able to lie and get away with it, she could still
sidestep the truth, especially if she didn't know what it really was.
Sometimes that could be hard to read, even for a psychic.

"Did I do something wrong?"

I guessed I must've tensed. Well, maybe it was time for me
to be honest, too. "I don't want your pity, Riley. I'm making it okay.
My PTSD is manageable. I'm not thinking about suicide and never
will be homeless, nor will I go postal. You don't need to take care of
me."

She sat up, clearly affronted. "Did you really just say
that?"

Unable to answer, I rolled over and put my back to her.

In spite of our semi-argument, I woke up on Thursday to
find myself cuddled up to Zander, who had a heavy arm thrown
across my middle. That made me smile in spite of my hurt feelings.
When I lifted it, he woke up, took stock of the situation, and rolled
out of bed without a word. A quick peek out the window revealed it
was going to be a dark and stormy day. A glance at the clock told me
I was running late...again.

I dressed, put my hair in a ponytail, and called out a goodbye
to Zander, who was showering from the sound of it. Whether he
heard me or not, I didn't know. Stopping only to find the morning
paper and throw it on the porch where it would stay dry, I started
toward my car.

Just as I got to it, Charlie jogged up the drive. He stopped
right beside me, hopping from one foot to the other. "Morning,
gorgeous."

That shocked me. "Er, morning. How was your run?"

"Great. You should come with me sometime."

I just shook my head. "Are you sure you didn't see anyone
strange hanging around Tuesday afternoon?"

"You mean while you were getting your nails done?"

Huh? I got that creepy crawly feeling. "How did you know
that?"

"Um...noticed them when you got home."

I didn't know if that was good or bad. "So did you see
anyone strange?"

"Define 'strange.'"

"Anyone who shouldn't be lurking about."

He thought for a minute and shook his head. "I already told
Zander that I didn't."

I noticed that he wouldn't look me in the eye. Was he lying?
Had he come into my apartment or let someone else inside? He had a
key and few scruples, in my opinion. If anyone offered him money to
do it, he probably would. Or maybe it was worse. Maybe he'd hired
Jason to accost me. But no. Besides the fact that he had no motive, he
was definitely too cheap to pay anyone for anything.

* * * *

The UT campus looked especially beautiful that morning,
with all the trees adding a splash of color that made it hard to be
miserable. Between classes, I checked the bulletin board in the
teeming student center for possible typing jobs I could do until I
found real work. I jotted down several numbers. There were always
students needing help with papers, most of them guys who expected
the typist to correct spelling and grammar and maybe look up a
reference or two. Luckily that came easy for me.

It seemed odd not to be rushing around as I usually did. I
went to the campus library. I stopped by the book store. I took some
photos of the leaves with my cell phone. I wished I could say I felt
perfectly safe, but that would be a lie Zander could've seen through
in a heartbeat.

I drove myself to a Chinese buffet for late lunch take-out, but
diverted when I saw Zander's truck parked at a Mexican restaurant
in the same strip mall. Without thought, I chose a spot nearby and
went inside to find him. The moment I stepped through the door, I
knew I shouldn't have. I spotted Zander and a woman with long
auburn hair sitting in a booth. If this was a date, I didn't want to be
there.

I began backing out the way I'd come.

"Riley!" Zander frantically motioned for me to join
them.

With the eyes of everyone in the restaurant planted on
moi
, I made my way over to him. "Saw your truck outside. I
didn't know you were with someone." I smiled apologetically at her.
She didn't smile back.

"No worries. Have you eaten?" He scooted over, clearly
inviting me to join them. "Oh, um, Riley, this is Miranda Henry.
Miranda, Riley McConnell."

I offered her my hand, which she briefly shook--one of those
limp, useless handshakes. I preferred the solid kind, palm to palm,
two firm shakes. "I should probably go."

"What's your hurry?" Zander's eyes begged me to stay.

Noting that he seemed a little desperate, I slid into the booth
beside him. A waiter popped up. I ordered a cheese dip and punch
and waited for their conversation to resume.

Zander broke the silence, but only after he squeezed the
hand I'd dropped below table level. A silent thank you? "Miranda is
my occupational therapist."

Amused, I squeezed back a
you're welcome.
"The one
trying to convince you to meet with kids in similar situations?"

"Roger that. She wants to set up something for tomorrow
afternoon."

"He's talked to you about this?" Miranda asked, her gaze
sizing me up. She sounded a little surprised, almost as if she'd
assumed he had no friends.

"Yes, and I'm voting with you. He'd be amazing." I turned to
Zander. "And you might think about helping out the local cops. I'll bet
Sergeant Brian would work with you."

"How could he help the police?" asked Miranda.

So she didn't know. I backtracked just a little. "Zander's had
a lot of training in interrogations. I thought he might have something
to offer." I gave Miranda another smile. She didn't return it,
either.

"Fine. I'll do the kid thing. Don't know about the cops yet,
though." Zander drank some of his punch. A chip dipped in the set-up
salsa occupied his mouth next.

Miranda leaned closer, her smile strained even though she'd
gotten her way. "Excellent. Here are the details." She dug a piece of
paper from her bag and stuck it in the pocket of his shirt.

"I sure hope I don't screw up some little kid for life."

I laughed. Couldn't help it. Miranda flashed me a look of
irritation. By then, I had my dip, so I dug in without another word.
Since the waitress brought their food, too, the only sound coming
from any of us was
crunch, crunch, crunch
. Zander, who'd
ordered nachos, pushed his plate toward mine. "Help me eat this,
would you? I didn't know there'd be so much."