by Mercer Scott
I may have a life of loneliness ahead of me, but I can’t face spending the next few weeks – or months – waiting for the hospital Board to decide my fate sitting all alone in my little one-bedroom apartment near the hospital with only my cat – Meowriah Furré, namesake of the goddess of singing love songs, Zariah Ferré – to talk to. I need to get out of town, and I already have a ticket to Maui. There’s no point in my sticking around San Francisco because it’s not like I have to go to work at the hospital or the clinic. I may never have to go to work again. How did my life go from perfect to destroyed in the course of thirty minutes?
Before I even form a conscious thought, I feel my fingers slide around my phone in my pocket and Lara’s picking up the call.
“Are you at home right now?” I demand.
“Hey, Nat. Why? What’s going on?” Lara yawns into the phone.
“Just tell me where you are already!” I shout into the phone. I’m leaning into the anger. Anger is all that’s keeping me going. If I don’t stay angry, I’m going to break down into a wet, soppy mess on the floor.
“I’m at home sitting on the sofa. Stinky and I are watching Selling Sunset. Since when are you keeping tabs on me?”
“I’ll be there in eight hours.”
“Wait, what? You and Dr. Dick… Rich aren’t supposed to be here until the weekend. What happened?” Lara takes a deep breath, and then shouts into my ear. “Oh my god! What did that piece of shit do? I’m going to kill him!”
“If anyone’s going to kill him, it’s going to be me. I need to go and pack. I’ll tell you about… it when I get there. I just can’t right now.” I’m not sure that I’m going to be able to talk about it in eight hours either, but I know that my friends are going to want answers.
“Okay, just get on the plane, Nat. I’ll see you soon.” There’s a long pause, and I think maybe Lara hung up. “And Nat… I’m glad you called me.”
“See you soon.” Hanging up the phone, I know if I stayed on the call one single second longer that I would break down and tell her everything. And then I probably wouldn’t even be able to get on the plane to Maui.
I know exactly why I called Lara, and not Veronica. V would be nice and sympathetic. But I don’t want that because I don’t deserve it. How could I have been so stupid? My friends all knew Rich – Dr. Dick – was bad for me, but I never wanted to listen. And look where I am now. On administrative suspension from the job I love more than anything for assaulting two co-workers – like I’m the one who did something wrong.
In less than two hours, Meowriah Furré and I are waiting not so patiently to board our plane to Maui. Some might call it masochism to be listening to Always Yours Forever on repeat the entire trip. But if anyone is going to get me through this, it’s Zariah.
Chapter Two
Cooper
A week later.
“Captain Hamilton? Did you want to share anything today?” Major Farrow’s voice calls out, bringing me back to where I am and what I’m supposed to be doing. Participating in group therapy.
“Nope, I’m all good this week. Same old, same old.” I flash her a smile, hoping she takes it as good enough that I’m here.
What’s the point of sharing? This week is the same as last week, and the week before. My body is still ripped to shit, my hip and my scars are healing, and I’m no longer a Navy SEAL. The explosion messed up my hip so bad that I’m never going to be on active duty again. Actually, there is one thing that’s new. But it’s not the kind of thing I can share in group therapy for wounded veterans returning to civilian life.
The ultimatum.
Maybe the ultimatum maybe isn’t entirely new. I always knew it was coming, and it was just a matter of time until it did. I’ve been honorably discharged for six months, and according to Lyle Cooper Hamilton the III and Lillian Rutherford Hamilton that’s more than enough time for their wayward military son to get his shit together and get his ass back to Manhattan to take his rightful place in the family empire. Because Lyle Cooper Hamilton the IV is expected to behave in a certain way.
I never asked to be Lyle Cooper Hamilton the IV. What I wanted was to be was a Navy SEAL. And I was one. I was damn good at it, too. And now that it’s gone, I have no idea what I’m going to do with myself. But falling into place in the family business isn’t on my list of priorities. Not that I think my brother Archer would be too excited about the idea of me stepping on his turf. I had the military, and he had the Hamilton Corporation. Now, I don’t have anything.
The guys sitting around me in a circle are the last ones who need to hear about my poor little rich kid problems. It took me two years after basic training to get the guys in my unit to stop calling me Ritchie Rich, and I’m not really interested in that starting up again.
I’m not ready to talk about the ultimatum yet, anyways. Not until I have some kind of idea what I’m going to do about it. And I don’t. Not a single, damn clue. But as I’m currently unemployed, the thought of my parents cutting me off if I don’t move home and join the company business cuts a little closer than it normally would.
So, no I don’t have anything to share this week, Major Farrow. And probably not next week, either. Not until I figure out just what the hell I’m going to do about the ultimatum.
Major Farrow smiles at me. I never know if she’s being nice or she’s silently cataloguing all the things she thinks are wrong with me. But, I guess that’s psychiatrists for you. “Maybe next week then.”
Then she turns her attention to Lucas, the kid sitting next to me. He’s got it bad for her, and he’s not wrong. Major Farrow’s hot. Or she would be, if she wasn’t a shrink. I’m not convinced you can be a shrink and still be hot.
My parents would hate the fact that I’m in group therapy like this. Hamiltons are expected to behave a certain way. And that way is not spilling your guts about every little thing that’s wrong in your life. But it’s not the first time I’ve disappointed them, and it won’t be the last. Despite being the oldest, I’m the Hamilton who fell farthest from the family tree. My brothers and sisters are much less of a disappointment than I turned out to be. They didn’t run off at eighteen and join the Navy. They didn’t become Navy SEALs and risk their lives every day.
Trying to think less about my own problems and pay attention, I listen as Lucas talks about the trouble that he’s having finding a job. Being a wounded vet struggling to reacclimate to civilian life doesn’t exactly make it easy to find a job. But maybe there’s something I can do about that. I can at least make a call and try to land him a job with one of the Hamilton Corporation’s subsidiaries. Not that I have any authority at the company since I don’t actually work there. But the family name should be enough for this one. I’ll talk to Lucas after group is over and get him to send me his resume. It’s the least I can do. We’re all in the same boat, trying to find our way in the world we left behind when we joined up.
When Major Farrow picks her clipboard up off of her lap, that’s the signal that the session is finally over. I tense up involuntarily, preparing for the pain I know I’m going to feel when I stand up. Hip replacements are supposed to be for old men, and I just turned twenty-nine. But any time I sit for too long these days, my body doesn’t want to move when it’s time to get up. It’s embarrassing at best. Excruciatingly painful at worst. The doctors said I’d get normal functioning back – well, normal for most people – but I’m not going to be jumping out of helicopters any time soon. It’s been a long six months, and I’m starting to wonder if my hip is ever going to heal up the way the doctors promised me it would.
My eyes scan around the room to see if anyone else is noticing how long it’s taking me to the get out of this shitty, folding, metal chair. But all the other guys are either too busy rushing out of the room or focusing on their own troubles standing up. I watch as my friend, Marcus, braces himself and then stands up in a rush. It’s just a flash, but I can see the wince of pain as he rests his full weight onto his prosthetic leg. He lo
st his leg below the knee, and that would be hard on anyone. But Marcus is six-foot-four and must weigh nearly three-hundred pounds. He takes a deep breath before looking around self-consciously to see if anyone saw it. Once group’s over, we all go back to hiding our scars from the world.
As my own wave of pain passes, and I’m finally ready to escape from group, Major Farrow calls out to me. “Cooper, can you stay back a minute?”
Shit. Why does it always feel like I’m being called into the principal’s office when she talks to me? I’d take being yelled at by my commanding officer every time rather than face this woman and her understanding expression.
“Sounds like you’re in trouble, Hamilton,” Marcus’ deep voice calls out before he starts to laugh. “Guess you should have shared today. See you next tomorrow… if you’re lucky.”
As I silently curse him, Marcus’ deep chuckle follows him out of the room. I’d like to throw a punch his way, but it wouldn’t be a fair fight. For me. Prosthetic leg or not, Commander Marcus McCallister could still kick my ass every single time. And he never lets me forget it. I might outrank him, but none of that matters. Not anymore.
It’s just Major Farrow and me left in the big room where they hold our group therapy sessions now. It’s the same kind of non-descript government meeting room that you’d see in any school, hospital, or military base across the country.
“What can I do for you, ma’am?” I ask slowly, one eye on the door and all of me wishing I was walking through it.
“I’m hoping that you would be willing to help with something. As you know the Maui Veterans’ Hospital is moving into the next phase of construction. Phase one was the main hospital, and phase two will be building new facilities for ongoing care such as rehab, physio, counselling. Any and all out-patient treatments.”
There’s a long pause, and I frown waiting for her to continue. It’s not a secret who my family is, so I figure this about money. How is it not some kind of ethical breach to ask a patient for money?
“Well, plans have been drawn up, but before construction begins on phase two, the idea is to organize a working group to review the plans and ensure that what we have is going to meet the needs of the veterans that we’re serving. An email went out asking for volunteers… and I thought of you.”
“Thought what about me?” It feels weird talking to Major Farrow about anything other than the weather and doing my best to avoid talking about my thoughts and feelings.
“I thought maybe you’d like to volunteer on the committee to ensure that the new facilities meet the needs of veterans like yourself. And like every other man who just walked out of this room.”
“Why me?” Frowning, I shift my weight onto my good hip.
“I’m sure you know why.” Major Farrow smiles at me. That’s rare. Sometimes we get a vague rise at the corners of her lips, but that’s it.
“Enlighten me.”
“You don’t need me to tell you this, Captain. You’ve come a long way in the last six months. You’ve experienced both physical trauma and mental trauma, so you’re in a position to provide insight into the kinds of things other veterans will be facing and the services that the new facilities will offer. You’re in a perfect position to speak for your fellow veterans and their needs.” Major Farrow narrows her eyes at me. “Look, Cooper. You don’t have to do this. No one can make you do anything. Not anymore. But you’re a leader to the other men. You’re a leader in this group, and you would be a leader on this committee. Here’s another chance to do some good for other soldiers.”
“So, it’s not about my family?” I ask, uncertainly.
“What’s not about your family?” She looks confused.
“About asking for money?” Frowning down at her, I shift my weight again.
Major Farrow smiles that knowing smile, like she can see right inside my head. “Of course not, Captain. But if your relationship to your family or your family’s money now that you’re no longer in active service is something that you’d like to share about next week, I think that may be fertile ground for discussion.”
Glaring at her, I hate that this woman seems to know more about my issues than I do.
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that sharing,” I tell her with a laugh. She’s not wrong about the committee, though. If there’s something I can do to help other injured veterans, that’s not even a question. “Sign me up for the committee, if you think I can help. It’s not like I don’t have the free time.”
“That’s wonderful, Captain! I’ll report back and someone will be in touch.” Major Farrow smiles at me, like she knew I was going to say yes all along. She probably did. “And seriously, you should think about sharing about your family next week. If there’s one thing everyone can empathize with, it’s complicated families. See you next tomorrow, Captain.”
“Most families aren’t complicated like mine. See you tomorrow, Major.”
First, the ultimatum and now this? Well, maybe this committee thing will give me a reason to push off the ultimatum deadline my parents gave me or right damn now. At least for a while. Charity projects are one thing the Hamiltons actually approve of.
My head is swimming as I walk out of the group therapy room. My hip hurts, my head’s swimming, and I’m ready for this full recovery the doctors keep talking about any time. But instead of a timeframe, they keep on telling me to take it one day at a time. One damn day at a time.
Glancing back at Major Farrow, I’m already having second thoughts about this committee. Not that I don’t want to help, but I’m not sure how much good I am to anyone or anything right now. I’m still looking back at her frowning and wondering what in the hell I’ve been talked into when I walk into something small that definitely wasn’t in front of me a second ago.
Then I realize that the something small is a someone. A someone with long, brown hair, brown eyes, and a pretty face. At least in the second that I see them before we start falling. She knocks me off balance when she hits me, and I can’t right myself. In a split-second, I know that I’m going to fall on top of her and maybe hurt her. My training comes through, and I don’t have a choice. My instincts take over, and I twist us as we fall so that I land on my side and she lands right on top of me.
Her long dark hair is hanging down against my face, and I smell sugar. But I only have a second to notice exactly how pretty she is with her big brown eyes and full pink lips. Then all I can think about is the pain. It slashes through me from my hip in every direction. I lose my breath, and it’s not from the fall or from the woman on top of me with her elbows jabbing into my ribs. Hot white streaks of light flash across my eyes. So, much for my training. Because when the pain takes over, I lash out at whatever or whoever made me hurt this much.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Chapter Three
Natalia
“What the hell do I think I’m doing? What the hell do I think I’m doing?” I shriek. This man just attacked me, and he’s demanding to know what I’m doing?
He jumped on me out of nowhere and now he has me pinned on the ground in the middle of a hospital hallway. Or, maybe I have him pinned technically? Because I am on top of him at the moment. But that doesn’t matter, because enough is enough. I’m tired of being everyone’s punching bag. Dr. Dick’s. The hospital’s. And now this asshole who’s never even met me thinks he can steamroll right into me and knock me to the ground just because he’s obviously too busy and important to watch where he’s going. And he has the nerve to blame me for it? I don’t think so. He picked the wrong woman to mess with today.
“You’re the one who needs to watch where you’re going! Not me, asshole!” I tell him as I jab my elbows into his chest and try to stand up.
“What the hell, lady?” He growls back at me.
That’s when I actually notice the man who currently has his arms around me like iron bars. In the split-second that I saw him before he attacked me, I saw he was tall. But I didn’t have time to noti
ce anything else. Now, my face is a foot away from his, and I can see exactly who I’m dealing with. He has dark brown hair and the most unusual grey-violet eyes I’ve ever seen. His face has at least a few days of dark stubble lining it. In any other circumstance, I’d be thinking how hot he is. But not right now. Not ever again. No matter how darkly he’s scowling down at me, I’m done taking crap from other people. And I’m done with men. All of them. Forever. From now on, I dole out the crap. And if that doesn’t make any sense, I don’t care. Because I’m done caring if I make any sense, too.
Jabbing my elbows into his ribs again, I push myself up and away from him. His arms fall to his sides, and he doesn’t try to stop me. Even though he’s letting me go, he still looks pissed. So, I go on the offensive and lean into my anger.
“You better back off! I just got into a food-fight at work, and those cupcakes you just made me drop are going to be headed in your direction if you don’t back off right now!” I shout at him as I stand up and then pick up the bakery box containing my precious, sugary cargo.
The cupcakes are only semi-smushed and survived the fall surprisingly well. When I turn back around to face him, he’s up off the ground and I see that I was right about him being tall.
It’s possible that I could have been magnanimous and forgiven him after discovering the cupcakes survived – if he’d apologized for attacking me. But I guess we’ll never know. Because he doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t say a single apologetic thing. He just stares down at me with that same angry expression on his face.
“You really don’t want to be messing with me right now! I just got cheated on and dumped. Or maybe I dumped him? I don’t know. And I just lost my job, too. Maybe. I don’t know. Got it?” Shaking my hands holding the box of cupcakes in his face, I hope that he’s worried about exactly how lethal these little hands are. They’re not lethal at all, but he doesn’t need to know that.
