“You knew she was comin’.” He kept his tone even, forcing down his anger and hurt that his friend would ambush him in this way. “You listened to me bitch and moan about not being allowed to go and see my little girl, and let me carry on and on, knowing the whole time that Cathy was comin’ here.”
Cathy had taken Katie to the bathroom. The shift in his daughter’s demeanor had been abrupt, going from loving on him to being afraid of him, to laughing hysterically about his “bad word” slipup, and finally to jumping on one leg while screeching that she “had to go.” As she had with everything in their lives together, Cathy had taken it all in stride, managing Katie’s excitement in an unfamiliar place while surrounded by evidence of the life he was making without them. Wasn’t much of a life, he knew, but the men here had his back, no questions asked.
Except apparently Oscar, who was a traitor of the highest order.
“Got that right. I knew it and didn’t say a damn word.” Oscar nodded with a sour grin. “You’d’a told her no.”
“Damn right I would have. I don’t need them to see me like this.” He gestured towards the floor. “When my little girl’s runnin’ at me to be picked up, and I fall on my ass? I fall on my ass, right in front of her. Brother, that’s not how I want her to remember me.”
“But you want her to remember you, right?” Oscar paused in the doorway. “Because to have her remember you, that means you gotta be around. Think on that a minute, brother. I’m going to get your crutches. Be right back.”
Nathan grimaced as he watched Oscar walk out of sight. Be right back.
That could be a tagline for his life these days. People moving around him all the time, leaving him stuck on an island in the middle of a stream that was his life. He hated being dependent on anyone, had always been the guy others turned to when they had problems. The friend they leaned on when they needed something, anything. He’d twist himself into knots to try and help those he loved, and he knew it wasn’t rational, but he had never expected others to do the same for him.
Men in the field learned to trust and depend on each other, sure. Mutual survival demanded that kind of interwoven responsibility to ensure a cohesive unit. He’d never had a problem with that on missions, or even training for a mission. Learning each other’s strengths and weaknesses simply meant you’d all work in lockstep together, lifting each other up and over whatever barrier or wall there was. Brotherhood in its purest form, and something that felt nearly like a religion at times. He’d known men who didn’t do well on leave, since they felt like they were missing a piece of themselves. A third leg or arm that wasn’t necessary for day-to-day living but had become so much a part of their daily fabric that just being away lent an undefined sense of unease.
He’d lost that third leg, and part of a second one, and what was left? Not enough to stand on.
Pain rippled up from his toes through the calf, into the stubbie and up to his hip, nerves firing in spontaneous patterns of agony. Nathan closed his eyes and rode out the discomfort, holding his breath for a five-count before blowing it out slowly. He kept that cycle for a few long moments, trying to force some semblance of control into place.
“Does it hurt much? Katie said you fell, Nathan. Are you okay?” Cathy’s voice was soft and close, and he looked up at her standing in front of him, crutches clutched to her.
The concern on her face tore at something in his chest, an oozing wound gained when he lost the leg, lost his place on his squad, lost his place in the world, and he froze at the feeling. She almost looks like she still— He cut off the thought viciously, shoving the idea to the side with enough effort maybe it wouldn’t come back to haunt him.
“Nathan…I—”
“I’m fine.” He kept his voice deliberately clipped and curt, and after delivering those two words, watched her waver on her feet, as if hit with the concussive wave from an explosion.
“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.