Because of You: A Loveswept Contemporary Military Romance (21 page)

Jen knew that feeling. Her home was the only thing that mattered and the one thing that was her shelter when she’d finally beaten the sickness that had taken her breast. As she watched the double doors close behind Shane, the germ of an idea began to take shape. It was a long shot, but right now, she didn’t have any better ideas.

What’s the worst that could happen?

A Texas-sized thunderstorm rumbled closer as the sun sank lower into the horizon. Shane wasn’t sure if the storm would hit, but the stunning demarcation between the dark clouds and the blue sky lifted him briefly out of his bad mood. It did not stop him, however, from taking cover beneath the cement awning in front of the hospital.

Carponti had already left the hospital by the time Shane got ahold of him, but he’d sworn he’d be right back. It was bad enough that he had to sit here, helpless, as he waited for his sergeant to come pick him up. It was another thing entirely to have to face the stares and pitiful glances from the people walking by. He knew the looks, the ones that said
thank God it wasn’t me
. Bitterness stuck in his throat and tasted like bile. He should have known better then to trust that Carponti would show up on time. Damn it, he should have come up with a Plan B before now.

Now he was stuck sitting outside the hospital with nowhere to go. The medical hold barracks across the parking lot and down the hill weren’t an option. They were just a half-assed effort at providing shelter for wounded soldiers who had nowhere else to go and didn’t have the ability or funds to move off post. Shane was pretty sure Osterman was staying there, but he was damn sure he couldn’t. They didn’t have any more first-floor rooms and the Korean War era buildings didn’t have elevators. There were only a few wheelchair accessible trailers so far and Shane would be damned if he’d take a room
from a soldier who needed it just so he could have a place to lay his head.

He wondered if the Fisher House had any wheelchair accessible rooms. He sighed and tried to beat back the black thoughts that were damn near drowning him. Fisher House was for families. Again, something he didn’t have.

Was it too much to ask for his divorce to have left him with something other than bad memories? She’d maxed out every credit card he’d owned and a few he hadn’t even known about. He couldn’t even afford a bed, let alone an apartment or food. He should have at least split the debt with her. But at the time, he’d just been grateful for the marriage to be over. Talk about a great decision.

“For a guy in a wheelchair, you’re pretty good at hiding.” Jen sounded ready for a fight. He wasn’t in the mood. At least, not one with her. Now if Tatiana had chosen that moment to show up? Yeah, then he probably would have been in the mood for a fight.

Shane cleared his throat and looked out at the street. Anywhere but at her. He shrugged and didn’t answer. It was hard to swallow. It was harder to think around her, looking like she did. She’d changed into casual clothes, and she looked like a woman, not a nurse. A woman with soft skin and gentle curves.

A woman he couldn’t touch.

“Where are you going?”

Shane struggled to hide his frustration. The change in her stunned him into silence. Her green eyes glittered in the darkening sky. A soft black skirt swished around her hips and the toned muscles in her thighs managed to look sleek and sexy all at once. He snapped his mouth closed to keep from gaping like a lovesick eighteen-year-old private.

Her scent surrounded him, snapping him back to the present moment. She was just
Jen. Amazing, sexy Jen. In a dark corner of his heart, he admitted that the idea of not seeing her every day was part of what was eating at him. Somehow, she’d become part of the fabric of his daily life and, in addition to losing the only place he had to lay his head, he was losing her, too. Somehow he’d started needing her, less for her medical care than for her soft touches, smiles, and companionship. He wanted to pull her close and just hold on to her.

“You need somewhere to stay, don’t you?”

“I’m good.” And he would be, if Carponti would get his ass over here and pick him up. He had too much pride to call his unit. With the way his luck was holding, that damned Lieutenant Randall would be the one to pick him up. Hell would freeze over before he asked that guy for anything.

The storm rumbled closer, but no rain fell from the slate-colored sky. He kept his eyes closed. She sat near him on one of the concrete benches, close enough that he could hear her breathing.

Her fingers on his jaw surprised him. She turned his face toward her and for once, he didn’t have the energy to fight.

He opened his eyes. She lowered her hand.

Would he ever again be able to interact normally with people? He was utterly and completely at a loss, not knowing what to do or say.

Apparently so was she. He saw her lip disappear beneath her teeth and he wondered what she was nervous about, even as he realized he felt the same way.

“Carponti forgot to pick you up, didn’t he?”

Seeing how it looked like he’d be sleeping outside in a thunderstorm tonight, he
really wanted to kill Carponti. “Yeah.”

“Where will you go?”

“You ever see that SNL skit where Chris Farley played the motivational speaker?” Shane released a breath. Nothing like being homeless to drive a woman wild. Homelessness and wheelchairs were so sexy these days. He figured he might as well be honest. It couldn’t be any worse than his boner fiasco. He sighed hard and offered a weak smile. “I’m thirty-five years old and yes, I am divorced, and I live in a van down by the river.”

Her laugh escaped her, despite her attempt to lock it down. Some of the strain loosened from around his heart. He had to get away from her before his want turned into a need. A need he couldn’t act on. And he really didn’t want to think about where this conversation could lead.

“Do you actually own a van?” she asked.

“This isn’t really all that funny.”

“Yes, actually it is. That skit is one of my all-time favorites.”

“Carponti should be here soon,” he mumbled. An odd mixture of emotions churned in his stomach. She was laughing, and he wished he could find humor in the situation, too. The storm rolled closer, rumbling over the hills. Yeah, this was definitely not funny.

“My house is surprisingly wheelchair friendly.”

Shane exhaled hard, unable to break past the blockage in his throat. “Do I want to ask why?”

“Well, if you’re going to be a jerk …”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Why would you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Open your home to a complete stranger?”

“Seeing as how I’ve held your penis in my hand, I think that puts you firmly in the not a stranger category.”

He coughed and choked and felt his face turn sixteen shades of hot.

“Finally. Jeez, I was starting to think your sense of humor had gone AWOL.”

He studied her then. Really looked at her. Her eyes sparkled in the darkening sky.

“Won’t you get in trouble? Patient living with his nurse thing?”

Jen smiled. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Shane snapped his mouth closed. Her smile spread across her face, loosening the knots around his heart.

“I can’t go home with you.” He could. That wasn’t the issue. Crossing into her home would bring down the last barrier between them. And he needed that barrier because he wanted to give, not take. He wanted her to be his and that was as selfish as he could be, because once he started, he wouldn’t stop until he claimed all of her. The urge to protect and cherish this woman was strong, stronger than anything he’d ever felt, and he didn’t want to ruin the one good thing he still had in his life. “I can’t ask you to do that for me.”

“This isn’t about you asking me. It’s about you getting better. Bad stuff happened. It’s not the end of the world. So you have a choice. You can wallow in self-pity or get in my car. But it’s about to rain, so can we please go if we’re going?”

She marched off, the click of her heels against the concrete fading. He was tempted, so damn tempted, to follow her and bare his soul. To talk about his failure to keep his
men safe. His concerns about Carponti. Trent’s silence. How he’d always fucked up the good things in his life. He’d gone to Iraq to make a difference, to protect his men. Instead, he’d ended up being dragged across the battlefield himself.

The words wouldn’t come, nor would the admission that his life was better with her in it, and as he watched her walk away, he couldn’t find the words to call her back. Then she was gone, and it was too late. He swallowed and looked down at the duffel bag in his lap. Carponti was a dead man. Frustration clawed at his soul.

A familiar ancient Neon pulled up and Jen got out, slamming her door a little too hard. Relief popped in his chest. She opened the trunk and snatched his duffel bag from his lap before he could react. Then she opened the rear passenger door and waited, arms crossed over her chest. He just stared.

“Are you coming? I’d like to beat the traffic off post.”

“Where?” He felt dense, like his brain was moving in slow motion. It still felt strange to have the use of both of his hands, but he had nothing to do with them now.

“Down by the river. I might as well drop you off, on my way home.”

He rolled over to the backseat and looked in skeptically. The backseat was a tin can, tiny and small. “There’s no way I’m fitting in here with my legs like this.”

Jen’s expression suggested otherwise. “Wanna bet?”

She wasn’t really going to drop him by the river, but as they drove farther down Highway 195, he started to wonder. He watched the subdivisions fade away and tried to occupy his thoughts with all the ways he was going to kill Carponti for leaving him high and dry.

The Texas hill country spread out for miles all around them. Finally, Jen turned right down a long dirt road that led to a large, two-story ranch-style home. It wasn’t new, like so many houses in the Fort Hood area. The yard was mowed, well kept, and the bushes were trimmed. There was a bright grey-and-white barn a few dozen feet from the house and an attached garage that looked like it had been added on long after the original house was built.

But it was the wheelchair ramp in front of the house that caught his attention.

He caught her gaze in the rearview before she switched off the ignition. “You have a real wheelchair fetish.”

“Are you going to be this pleasant all evening? Because I’ll be happy to leave you alone and not give you the grand tour.” She helped him out of the car and back into the wheelchair. He swallowed the bitter pill of needing her help and rolled toward the ramp. She paused before slinging his duffel bag over her shoulder. “And just to ease your mind, my grandmother was in a wheelchair. I took care of her before she died.”

Her house was spotless, no dust or dirt anywhere. Nothing out of place. It was warm and inviting. It felt like a
home
. Something Shane hadn’t really had. Ever. He rolled through the main room into the kitchen, and nearly wept when he smelled the warm and comforting aromas wafting from a bread machine on the counter. Beneath that was a hint of apples and cinnamon.

He was overwhelmed. She’d opened her home to him, a man who had failed everyone he’d ever cared about. But for some reason Jen had decided to help him rebuild the foundations of his life by sharing a little bit of hers. He had no idea what to say. Thank you seemed so small and insignificant.

She kicked her shoes off at the base of the stairs and padded over to him in stocking feet. “Don’t freak out, you’re staying in Gran’s old room.”

He followed her through the main room. The entire first floor was perfectly suited for someone in a wheelchair, the furniture spaced widely apart. Not once had he come close to banging into anything.

“How come you never moved stuff around after your grandmother died?” he asked quietly.

“What makes you think I didn’t?”

“I haven’t bumped into anything.”

She flushed and folded her arms over her chest. “I figured I’d at least offer you a place to stay.” Jen stunned him with her thoughtfulness—she’d arranged the furniture for him. She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling. “I can put everything back, if you want. Make a real obstacle course. It might improve your reaction time.”

“Thank you” was all he could manage. He hoped she understood everything he
couldn’t say.

“There’s no old lady smell or anything.” She pushed him through double French doors to a bedroom that left him speechless again.

“This was your grandmother’s room?” It was painted a deep burgundy red, with white trim around the doors and the crown molding. The mixture of scents was a welcome change after the sterile hospital smell that had taken up permanent residence in his nostrils. A large bed sat in one corner of the room, leaving plenty of space for maneuvering.

He wheeled into the bathroom connected to the room, and immediately noticed that there were handles all around the room. Something simple that would allow him to take care of life’s basic needs without help or any more ill-timed erections. He turned slowly in the oversized bathroom, awed. Even if he lived a hundred years, he could never do enough to thank her for this. He could win the lottery and give it all to her, and it would never be enough to repay her kindness. “Jen …”

She leaned against the door frame, her feet crossed at the ankles, hands tucked into the back waistband of her skirt. She didn’t let him finish. “Hungry? I’ve got some steaks.”

“Steak? As in real food?” He seized onto the distraction. Whatever he might have managed to say wouldn’t have made much sense anyway.

“Yeah, well, even I get tired of hospital food sometimes.”

“When do you have time to cook?” He followed her into the kitchen, which was painted a pale, cheery yellow. He wanted to help her, but had no idea how.

The feelings churning inside of him were so different from those that had defined
his new normal. Things felt right and normal and good.

Wide, dark granite countertops, spotlessly organized, were topped with shiny light cabinets. She opened one of them, and pulled out a chopping block, setting it down on the counter. Then she went out onto the porch and he heard the snap of the ignition as her grill sparked to life. She came back in, and set bright red tomatoes and a knife on the chopping block.