Mad Minute Page 3

  “Are you mad at me?”

  He stared at her, seeing the telltale indications of her nervousness. Nose wrinkled in that too-cute way she had, something Katie had inherited from her, lips reddened and puffy from being raked between her teeth, an action she performed again just now. He suppressed a groan because that was one of his favorite things to do when he kissed her.

  Cathy had always gone crazy when he’d kissed her rough, hard, owning her mouth. From the first time they’d loved on each other, lying together in a rented hotel bed since her roommate was a nosy woman and he hadn’t wanted Cathy to deal with anything from her, best friends or not, he’d taken lead in their lovemaking. She hadn’t been innocent—and hadn’t that played on his mind for a long time, imagining her comparing him to that nameless, faceless man in her past, the only other one she’d been with. Not innocent, but near enough that he’d gotten to introduce her to all the joys of carnal delights. College had been a time of exploration for him, and he’d been lucky enough to land with an older woman, him a freshman and her a senior, and now, thinking about it, didn’t that mean he and Cathy had the same experiences, really? At least until he’d left her high and dry at home, waltzing away on his one leg to Texas. Who was to say she hadn’t been with a dozen men since, all of them better than he was in the sack, all of them whole and uncrippled, and all of them a better fit for her? A partner who would walk at her side, not limp along behind.

  “Nathan?” Red flagged her cheeks, and he realized he’d been staring at her this whole time, silent, sounds of the holiday gathering continuing on in the distant kitchen, Katie’s laughter winding through the house as the men he’d thrown his lot in with took care of her.

  “No, I’m not mad at you.” He wasn’t, he realized. Not anymore. There’d been a moment of white-hot fury when he’d embarrassed himself by falling in front of his little girl, but Cathy hadn’t seen, at least. “Not at you, Cath.” He forced a smile, hating how it felt on his face, fake and plastic, sitting uneasily on top of the muscles and skin like an ill-fitting Halloween mask, limiting visibility and only working to frustrate the wearer. “Never at you.” The words were true even if the smile was fake.

  “Oscar said you need these?” She transferred the crutches to one hand, lifting the other to wipe at the corner of her eye. “What happened?”

  And just like that, the anger was back along with the smells of that street in Afghanistan, the sounds of the creaking transport idling up the center of the road with gravel crunching underneath the tires. He walked to one side, scanning the road ahead and peering into the darkened ruins on either side of them. Another man walked point on the other side of the road, and he couldn’t remember his name for a moment, shaking his head until it came back to him. “Bowman. That’s it. Bowman.”

  “What?” Cathy sounded confused, and why wouldn’t she be? She couldn’t see what he did.

  “Bowman died.”

  The blast came from that side, a delayed trip trigger that let the men on foot get twenty feet beyond before it detonated, just beside the Stryker carrying six men. The vehicle flipped into the air, and Nathan watched analytically as it sailed, graceful as a leaping dancer ghosting through the clouds of dirt and rock. It shouldn’t be aerodynamic—the light armored vehicle was a lumbering beast at best—but as it took flight and twisted through the air, it nearly looked like it could fly. He lost the ability to breathe, body blown backwards against a mostly intact wall of the building behind him, air knocked loose as his hands lifted in an ineffectual warding off motion that did nothing to keep the front edge of the vehicle from shearing off his leg as it pinned him in place. Stuck like a bug on a board, wings still fluttering as the metal speared through.

  “Nathan?”

  Cathy’s voice was wrong. She shouldn’t be there. She wasn’t deployed, walking down a dusty street in Syria. She was home doing the hard work, making sure their daughter was safe and happy and well and knew she was loved. She talked about Nathan to Katie all the time, making him part of each day, so that when he came home on leave, he fit right back in as if he’d always been there. That was a talent she had, a skill so subtle and goddamned needed that he couldn’t define it. He just needed it. Needed to know he was part of more than that group of men he worked and lived and bled with. Needed to know there was love waiting at home for him.

  “Nathan?”

  “I’m here.” He shook his head, and the overwhelming memories receded. They’d be back, he knew. They always came back. “I’m here.”

  “Nathan.”

  He blinked. She was closer, and the heat against his cheek was her hand, not blood, not the rough scores from the hundred-mile-an-hour stones that had left furrows and scars behind. Her hand, her palm, her fingers, all so well known, and yet entirely foreign. He could feel the trembling as she touched him, fear and nerves, and she’d been like that the first time, too.

  Hair spread on the pillow, Cathy had looked up at him, eyes liquid pools of desire as he touched her. Sheet pulled to their shoulders because the room was cold, something they’d laughed about as he’d undressed her. “I’ll warm you up, baby,” he’d cheesed, easing her shirt off her shoulders and seeing goose bumps covering her skin. She’d laughed and cupped his cheek before raising her head for a kiss.

  Mouth to her ear, he asked permission. “I wanna touch you.” She moved underneath the sheet, hand running down his arm until her fingers twisted with his. She brought his palm to her breast and sighed when he kneaded her flesh gently. “You’re so beautiful, Cath. I’ll take care of you.”

  He pushed up on an elbow and stared down at her. Gorgeous in her passion, she looked up with half-hooded eyes. He shifted to lie between her thighs, and Cathy’s lips parted on a soft moan as her hips rocked up to meet him. “I want you.” She gave him a tiny grin. “If you’ll have me.”

  “Oh, I’ll have you, woman.” He reached between them and lined himself up with her entrance. “I’ll have all of you.” Her eyes widened as he slid inside, a slow, steady glide that left him gasping for breath. “God, Cath. You feel so good.” Tight and hot, the sleek muscles of her core clutched at him, pulling him deeper. “So goddamned good.”

  He told her the truth. “I love you.” No “still,” no “always,” and he hoped she understood what he meant. He’d never stopped loving her, never needed those kinds of modifiers to quantify the timing of that love.

  She blinked slowly, looking shocked; then her eyes closed as something he hoped was relief washed over her face.

  “I’m not mad, Cath. Promise.” He reached and took one of the crutches, holding it upright at his side. His other hand covered hers, pressing her palm tighter against his skin.

  They stayed like that for a moment, breathing and just being together. Then Katie’s excited shout rang through the room as she ran back in. “Mommy, Mommy. There’s gonna be a Jesus cake and then presents!”

  Cathy pulled back, and her hand fell away, Nathan missing the heat and touch immediately. He’d always been that way with her. Needing more and more, and Cathy had always given him what he needed. He knew if he asked for it right now, she’d turn back to him and hold him.

  God, how can I be so back and forth with this shit? One moment he was pissed, furious at her for withholding Christmas from him. Then he was angry that she was here and giving him a Christmas he didn’t deserve. With one breath he loved and missed her, and the next he was embedded back with his squad as they lay dying on the road. PTSD, he thought, that catch-all explanation annoying. Concussions played into it, too, and his unresolved feelings about the amputation. This was what he’d wanted to spare her, the things the counselor had advised him would happen, the things he would feel, and how his emotions could shift and swing on a dime. I didn’t want her to see this.

  Cathy crouched until she was Katie’s height, one knee to the floor as she listened to their daughter’s excited explanation about what a Jesus cake was.

  “Where are you staying?” Not here, please
God, not here. Where that thought had come from he didn’t know.

  “In a house a couple of blocks over. Oscar set us up.” Her response was quick and reassuring, laying his terror momentarily to rest. She swiveled to face him. “I’d ask if you wanted to see it, but I parked the car there.” She seemed to realize she still held one of the crutches. “Oh, sorry.” Standing was a fluid movement for her, a grace he’d never manage again, every motion now a mix of stillness and surges of strength as one leg tried to do the work meant for two. One stride and she was in front of him, holding out the promised support. “You probably don’t want to—” She cut off her words abruptly, embarrassment staining her face red.

  “I can manage at least a couple of blocks on the sticks. And if I couldn’t—” He angled the crutches to help himself upright, quietly noting the aborted movement she made as she stopped herself from trying to help. Most wouldn’t have curbed that instinct and could have toppled him all over again. She either didn’t trust herself to help or trusted him to handle the movement. Either way, it was interesting to see. “Then, the club has a van for transport as needed. We could borrow that.” He shoved the cushioned bars underneath his arms, wincing at the lightning fast flicker of pain when they struck the constantly irritated nerve bundle there. Between months spent on crutches and ill-fitting lifting belts, his brachial nerves were always ready to flare up. Just another day in the life. “But first, we need to see if the Jesus cake is ready, right, Katie?”

  His little girl stared up at him, expression serious and somber as she watched him maneuver the crutches to stand beside Cathy. Then the clouds broke and the sun shone through, her smile beaming up at him. “You are so tall, Daddy. When did you get so tall?”

  “I’ve been this size a while, darlin’.” He returned her smile, laughing when she came to stand right in front of him, head tipped far back. “You’re the one who’s grown. I think you’re half a foot taller now.”

  She lifted one shoe and looked at it, then down at his feet, clearly measuring the difference. “Your foot or mine?”

  “Oh, definitely mine. You’re such a big girl.” Crutches wedged into place, he lifted a hand to her head, ruffling her hair. “Still my girl, right?”

  “Always, Daddy.” Katie eyed the crutches distrustfully. “Will those keep you from falling again?”

  “That’s the idea, punkin. My leg needs fixin’, but that’d take me away from you for a while today. I’d rather be with you, so I’ll be on these until then.” He had another leg, but it was a different model, newer and theoretically better, and he hadn’t gotten the hang of it yet. Nerve-driven rather than gravity, it moved differently from the one he’d become accustomed to over the months. The physiotherapist said he needed to trust it, but Nathan was happier without change these days.

  “Oh, we’re here for long days. I can help you, Daddy.” She moved to stand beside him and put both hands on the struts of the crutch. “Tell me when and I’ll help you.”

  “When,” he said, wanting to see what she’d do. With a grunt and a heave, she yanked on the crutch, trying to shift it forwards. He moved his weight off and let her get it positioned. “That’s helpful.”

  “I know.” She looked up at him with that damn smile again, and it felt as if a thousand pounds had lifted off him in the past two minutes alone. At this rate, I’ll be soaring anytime now. “I’m a good helper. Mommy says.”

  “Well, Mommy’s not wrong.” He looked up to see Cathy wiping at one corner of her eye again, sniffing suspiciously. “Cath?”

  “It’s just good to see you, Nathan.” She gestured towards him and Katie. “Good to see this.”

  He’d done that, taken not only her husband away, but also the father of their daughter. Gone and left her to deal with everything alone. That realization struck him hard, and within the next breath, he turned a corner from where he’d been just this morning. They’d always been a team, and he’d struck out on his own without explanation. He’d found that while he could go it alone, he didn’t like it. No more, he vowed.

  This morning he’d been angry and bitter, facing the specter of Christmas without his family. Now, he was standing here in front of his wife, whom he loved more than life, with their little girl huffing and tugging at his crutch in an effort to help out any way she could.

  I’ve been an idiot.

  He just hoped it wasn’t too late to fix everything he’d been so determined to break.

  Chapter Four

  Cathy

  The kitchen was controlled chaos, and Cathy looked around for the woman she’d met earlier, Dana. Manager of the organization that was the foundation behind the motorcycle club, the woman had been nearly as determined as Oscar to get Cathy and Katie here today.

  In the back of her mind, she’d had an idea of how this clubhouse would look, but reality was nothing like her imagination had filled in on their trip to Texas, during those long hours with nothing to do except talk to a five-year-old or think. So much thinking, and her overwhelmed nerves nearly had her turning around a dozen times. All her imagining and yet nothing could have prepared her for the sight of a dozen men leaning together over a waist-high island, arguing over the best recipe for pancakes.

  Katie continued to chatter to Nathan as they moved slowly behind her. Cathy was confident he would have been faster on his own, but the look on his face when Katie had set her jaw shouted that their daughter still had her daddy wrapped around even her littlest finger. If it made her happy to pretend to help him move one slow crutch-step at a time, he would have turned himself inside out to make that happen.

  Maybe there is hope.

  It felt like so long since she’d held any optimism about him, about them, but today Nathan had said the words, those words he’d always held so close to the chest, the ones that set her flying like a balloon.

  “You look like you need a job to do.”

  Cathy turned at the gruff words and looked up at a man she scarcely recognized. With a cry, she fell into his open arms, wrapping hers around his waist.

  “Do not bawl, woman.”

  Sniffing, she shook her head back and forth. “Not bawling. Someone’s cookin’ onions somewhere. That’s all.”

  “How you doin’, Cath?” Kirby Westbrook had been deployed with Nathan for a long time, and when they were stateside, the bachelor had spent more of his leave hanging out at their house than in his own quarters, and she’d been forever happy to host him. She’d known part of it was a desire to not have to face his demons alone, because both men came home from every deployment changed. It killed her having to watch them claw their way back to a semblance of normal bit by bit, topping the hill of nerves and anger until finally they were coasting down the backside of peaceful and happy, just before being sent back overseas. So when being with a family helped Kirby to deal with whatever he and Nathan saw or did that made their faces so haunted, she’d been honored to open their home to him.

  “You look good.” She sidestepped his question deftly, not wanting to break down for real. So many emotions swirled through her that she couldn’t find a way to talk about any of it without going against his decree about crying. “Did you see Katie yet?”

  “Not to speak. Not yet.” He pulled back and smiled down at her. “Little bug looks to have her hands full with Daddy.”

  Cathy tipped her head as she stared into his face. Lines were far less pronounced than the last time she’d seen him, and there was an ease to his stance that said even in the crowded room, he was comfortable. “Something good has happened to you.”

  Grin widening, he flashed a glance towards the chestnut-haired woman standing near the stove. “I kinda got hit by a truck.”

  “Excuse me?” If getting hit by a truck was good, she wasn’t sure she could handle the bad.

  He gestured down to where his socked foot dangled just above the floor, something she hadn’t noticed until now. “Yeah, I kinda got hit by a truck, but it’s the best thing that could have happened. Swear.” A sh
adow eclipsed the joy on his face for an instant, then was gone. “Concussed again, but not bad. And it was so, so worth it.”

  “When? Are you sure you’re okay?” Fear struck her like a blow. Oh, no. Repeated concussions could be deadly. She knew since she’d done the research after discovering the many TBI incidents Nathan had suffered. Most of which he’d hidden from her, as they’d happened overseas and by the time he’d cycled home he just hadn’t mentioned them. But with his injury, the amputation and additional surgeries, his whole medical history had been laid out for her by his surgeons. Terrified wasn’t a strong enough word to cover her emotions at finding out about all his near-miss events through the years. No wonder the men always looked haunted when they came back. They’d just spent however many months wandering through a landscape rife with danger, where an enemy waited around every corner, and death could come raining down from the sky at any moment.

  “Yeah, I’m good. Leg’s bunged up a bit.” He gestured to a pair of crutches leaning against the countertop. “But nothing that won’t heal.” He took a mug down and filled it with coffee, holding it out to her.

  His confidence helped ease her fears, and she accepted the heat and weight of the cup, cradling it against her chest for a moment before leaning back as she sipped. “So how did you get hit? Were you riding?” She put a hand on his arm and crowded forwards, asking pseudo-seriously, “Is the bike okay? Did she survive?”

  His laughter was good to hear, and she watched him rock backwards with his amusement, chin lifted as he shouted out towards the ceiling. Movement then heat beside her hit with a déjà vu so strong she felt the hairs on the back of her neck lift in a wave.

  Nathan was propped against the countertop right beside her, crutches handed off to Katie, who was now walking around the room with them, arms thrust between the struts down near the bottom, cushioned armrests reaching far over her head like a stork’s wings. Cathy smiled at the reminder of summertime fun, using stilts when she was a child, posing challenges with friends for most steps without falling or fastest ten-yard dash.