Titanium (12 page)

While Miranda watched, I dug right into the spicy dish,
double dipping every other bite, as did Zander. The atmosphere after
that got decidedly chilly and conversation dwindled to random
remarks about the food and long, awkward silences. Finally we
finished. Zander told the waitress to put my dip on his tab. I noticed
that Miranda got a ticket of her very own. Not a date. But I'd already
guessed that. The three of us walked out together.

"I'll see you at the house." I left them with a pageant
wave.

I think that did it for the therapist, who split, too, her heels
rapidly clicking against the sidewalk as she stalked away. Just as I
stuck my keys into the ignition of my car, Zander walked up and
motioned for me to roll down my window.

He leaned down so he could look at me. "Thanks for that.
She was starting to weird me out."

"Well, you are pretty irresistible."

He snorted and walked to his truck.

We got to the duplex within minutes of each other. By then I
had a million questions I wanted to ask about Miranda. I waited until
later, though, when we were both watching TV. "So what's the deal
with Mir-an-da?" Her name came out a sing-song.

He groaned and scooted lower on the couch so his head
rested on the back. "She wants to be more than my counselor, I
think."

"Your sex therapist, maybe?"

Zander winced.

"And you're not interested?"

"What do you think?"

I couldn't believe it. "Not your type?"

He raised his head to look at me. "It's not that."

"You can still have sex, right? I mean, you didn't mention
losing anything but a kidney, hip, some gut, and part of the leg."

"Geez, Riley!"

"Just asking."

"I'm fine in that department, okay?" His cheeks had never
been so red.

"Keep your cool, Xman. Based on past, um, experience, I
thought you were. So I'm trying to figure out why you wouldn't be
interested in a woman as gorgeous as Miranda, especially when she's
obviously throwing herself at you."

"I prefer to fly solo."

"Because?"

"No woman is going to compromise her lifestyle because of
me. I have enough guilt as it is."

Ah. That explained a lot, even if it was more faulty logic. "But
you're so mobile, and even if you were stuck in a wheelchair, most
things are doable these days thanks to the whole world being more
savvy about stuff like that." I wasn't about to use the word
disability.

"What if I'm not always like this? What if my other kidney
fails? What if--"

I cut him off. "You can't live your life worrying about what
might happen."

"Isn't that the banana calling the lemon yellow?"

I bristled. "Excuse me? My fears are based on an actual
event, Zander. Some guys tried to kidnap me."

"And my fears are based on an actual event, too, Ri-ley.
Several of them, in fact." Now
my
name was the sing-song.
"But the one most relevant is the girl who swore she'd wait forever
for me cut a choagy."

"Say what?"

"Split. Took one look at my stump and got the hell out of
there."

My face heated in a whoosh of outrage.
"What a
bitch!"

He burst out laughing. "Maybe, but at least she was honest,
and I didn't blame her. She loved sports. Tennis. Golf. Skiing. She
even surfed. Dragging my ass around would've seriously cramped
her style."

"There are other women out there. Women who aren't into
sports, who'd be glad to find a guy who went to war to fight for our
freedom. Women like Miranda."

Or me.

"Not interested." He switched gears. "Will you go with me to
Children's Hospital tomorrow at one?"

"I won't make you nervous?"

"I'll be nervous no matter what."

"Then I've got your seven." I deliberately plugged in the
wrong number.

That cracked him up.

Things were a little cozier when we turned in around
midnight. Not that we didn't stay on our own sides of the bed. We
did. But the atmosphere was definitely lighter.

A dream about a zombie chasing me from one end of UT to
the other woke me at midnight, but once I scooted closer to Zander, I
went right back to sleep.

* * * *

Friday afternoon, we discovered that the hospital, a modern
brick building with lots of glass, had plenty of parking lots, but most
of them were full. After driving around for fifteen minutes, we finally
caught a car backing out of a spot that we gladly grabbed. Using
directions written on a piece of paper, Zander and I walked to a
physical rehab area where a group of kids on crutches, in
wheelchairs, and on a gurney waited.

Zander's demeanor hinted at fear that seemed ironic in light
of the dangers he'd faced fighting. But I knew children had a way of
obliterating negativity, and wasn't surprised to realize he was pretty
much himself again in a matter of minutes.

His kept his injury explanation short and sweet, getting to
the point immediately so he could move past it. "I was hurt by an
explosion and had to have part of my leg removed." Zander pulled up
a chair and sat so he could raise the hem of his jeans. He showed
them his prosthesis and explained the parts and what it was made
of.

"Take it off," said a little boy sitting on the floor in front of
him. Brown eyes almost hidden by a mop of brown hair challenged
Zander.

Clearly startled, Zander gave the request several seconds'
consideration before he did as asked. I watched with interest since
seeing him do this was new to me, too. Without the prosthetic, we
saw the gel sleeve that fit his severed leg securely. "This was made
just for me and keeps the new leg from hurting. It also helps it stay
on."

"Take it off, too." This came from a precious little girl with
golden curls, big blue eyes, and a pink tutu. She sat in a wheelchair. I
saw that one of her legs was missing. A birth defect? I wondered.
Cancer? An accident? Whichever, it just wasn't right for a princess to
only need one glass slipper.

Zander rolled off the sleeve, exposing his scars, which still
looked pretty raw to me. Nonplussed, the little boy on the floor
scooted closer so he could see better. Others followed his lead and
even touched the injury. Soon surrounded by curious patients,
Zander shot me a what-now glance before his gaze moved beyond
me. I turned and saw Miranda standing in the doorway, watching us,
her arms crossed over her full breasts. Though clearly not thrilled to
see me there, she managed to give Zander a thumbs up. I noted that
her lipstick and nails matched her tight sweater.

How serious was her crush on him? As bad as mine? I
dragged my gaze back to Zander just in time to see one of the kids
showing off his own amputation. Were they really comparing
wounds? Guys. You had to love 'em.

Zander began talking about his therapy, sharing his
schedule and explaining how he got better every day, all of which
was news to me. He talked about playing basketball and asked them
what they liked to do. By the end of the visit, he had seven kids at his
feet and one on his lap, a rapt audience that clearly adored him, the
hero soldier they'd known less than an hour.

"Is she your girlfriend?" asked an African-American boy,
pointing to me. He was probably five years old.

"She's a friend that's a girl."

"Do you go on dates?" This came from the cutie in the
tutu.

"Why?" Zander said. "Are you asking me out?"

Goldilocks collapsed into giggles.

A little boy with no hair and a bright red Superman cape
spoke up next from the gurney on which he lay. "Are you going to
fight the bad guys again when you're all better?"

Zander shook his head with a wry smile. "I'm going to find
another way to serve my country."

"My daddy's a soldier, too. He's coming home in this many
days." Superman held up ten fingers.

"What are you two going to do first?"

"Go fishing at my grampa's."

Zander grinned. "If you've got an extra rod for me, I'll bring
the crickets." They shared a high-five.

To say he was a hit didn't do him justice. My hero had
clearly lifted spirits and made some friends for life. As for me, well, I
was a bundle of emotions ranging from sorrow to elation.

"You're incredible, you know that?" I said once he'd let the
kids help him put the prosthesis back on and walked over to me. I
added a hug for emphasis, ending it only when Miranda approached
us.

She totally ignored me. "What'd I tell you?"

Zander just shrugged, but anyone could see he was
pleased.

As for me, I fell in love with him for sure and for always right
then and there.

We left Miranda as soon as we could without being
rude.

I couldn't believe that she'd ever gotten my butt there--
Riley, not Miranda--and that her confidence in me had resulted in
finding the courage to step out of my comfort zone. I'd never been
more proud.

Was I starting to hope?

Concern abruptly replaced my pride, tainting today's minor
victory. It would be so easy to get caught up in Riley's butterflies and
rainbows world. But if I did, my real life would be that much more
hope
less
when she moved on. That she would, I never
doubted.

I was going to make sure of it.

Wanting to delay our being alone in the apartment, I
detoured to my old haunt, Brookside. I slowed the truck when I got
to my wingman's trailer, but passed it because his car wasn't there.
After driving a little farther to our usual hangout, I spotted my
comrades in rehab sitting on their lawn chairs as usual. I killed the
engine. We both got out of the truck.

"Hey, Xman," Simms called out, waving his arm cast in
greeting. "Where're you bunking now?"

"With her." I winced. "Scratch that. We're just splitting rent."
And sharing a bed, but, unlike Riley, my lips were sealed.

Each and every guy blatantly inspected Riley, who couldn't
have looked sexier--hair tangled by the breeze, brown eyes laughing,
kissable lips spread in that amazing smile. I tried not to let their
stares bother me, focusing instead on basking in their obvious envy
as I introduced everyone by last name only. Well, except for one guy,
who we called Sparks because no one could pronounce his real
name. Wilson, Simms, Patrick, Rogers-- She met them all. Someone
rounded up an ice chest for us to sit on.

Too small.

I automatically sat and patted my good leg. Without
hesitation, she sort of backed up to straddle my thigh. Man, did I get
some wistful looks when I put a hand on her leg to steady her.

For the next hour, we shot the breeze. Riley clearly enjoyed
herself, laughing when someone cracked some lame-ass joke and
making us explain every time we spouted the colorful slang so
specific to military life. Simms had her sign his arm cast. Patrick,
standing with the aid of crutches, showed off some of his worst scars,
which, I'll admit, were pretty impressive, especially his mutilated
foot. He'd be getting a partial prosthesis any day. Wilson
demonstrated the dexterity of his bionic hand. Sparks, who had a
shoulder wound and a girlfriend, didn't openly flirt as the others
did.

Riley never flinched and had them all in her pocket in no
time. The best part? She didn't have a clue that she did.

"Where's Kyle?" I glanced toward his trailer for at least the
tenth time. It had been days since I'd talked to him. I wanted to catch
up. "I've been trying to get him all week. Did he go home or
something?"

The guys exchanged quick looks. No one spoke.

My heart dropped into my stomach. "What?"

"Kyle moved back to his parents' farm on Monday," Patrick
told us. "They found him hanging from a rafter in their barn that
night."

Riley gasped.
"He killed himself?"

Wilson nodded. "Yeah. Funeral was yesterday. Hobbs
went."

I went ballistic. "Why the hell didn't someone call me?"

Simms fielded that one. "No one had your number, man, and
you know how the VA is about giving out personal shit, even when
it's important."

My heart thudded in my chest, but I'd never felt so dead
inside. To the one, my friends talked about Kyle's suicide like it was
something that happened every day, which, I knew, it did. Twenty-
two times a day according to the latest statistics. And the numbers
were rising.

God, I'd miss him.

Already did.

Riley abruptly repositioned her legs so she could drape an
arm across my shoulders. I swear I almost lost it. Could she feel me
trembling?

"Sorry to hear that," I managed to say, my tone deliberately
as flat as theirs so I wouldn't fall apart. "He was one of the good
guys."

Abruptly hopping off my lap, she tugged on my sleeve. "We
should go, but first you need to give somebody your number."

Five guys simultaneously dug cell phones from their
pockets. I rattled it off and tried to enter theirs into my phone.
Couldn't with my hands shaking so badly. Riley coolly took my cell
and did the honors. She also entered all their numbers into her own
cell phone and gave out hers in return.

I'll admit that got me. What'd she need their numbers for?
And why give them hers? With my luck, one of those jokers would
actually use it.

"It was so nice to meet all of you." Riley made the circle of
friends, offering each a hug and getting some back.

"She's a keeper," Rogers told me with a sly wink. He sat in a
brand new sports wheelchair that enabled him to play the rough
games he loved--hockey, football--and even the tamer ones like
basketball and baseball.

I didn't say a word, but I did put my arm around her in a
bullshit show of possession. Did she pull away to put me in my place?
Nope. Not the girl with the big heart. Instead, she put her arm around
me. We walked to my truck accompanied by their wolf whistles and
laughter. Riley waved as I peeled out, smiling as if everything was
fine.