by Moxie North
Maverick’s wolf cataloged what he was scenting like a checklist of normality. He liked when things were the same. Change complicated things, and he had been avoiding that for a long while.
Filling his lungs again, he thought he caught another smell. It was subtle, like it had breezed through earlier and just barely left its molecules behind. He tried to sniff again and find it, but it was gone.
“Mr. Hale?”
Maverick brushed aside the scent and stood up. His therapist, Nick, was someone he liked personally, but disliked having to work with.
“Really? Mr. Hale?”
“I’m trying to maintain your anonymity. You’re welcome, by the way.” Nick held the door open for Mav to walk through.
“Oh yeah, I’m worried about who here knows me,” he scoffed. Maverick’s wolf noticed that the smell was back again as he walked down the hallway. It was a citrus smell, like someone had just eaten a grapefruit or orange. But it wasn’t just the sharp acidic smell that would sting across your tongue. There was something else warm and sweet underneath that made him think of lemon custard.
“How much is it taking for you not to limp?” Nick asked, assessing his gait.
“More than I’d like.” Maverick didn’t want to admit that, but it was the truth and he’d see soon enough.
They went straight past the bikes and treadmills to the back room with the big padded tables. Maverick hated those tables. Anyone that had spent time on those tables grew to hate the textured, brown vinyl. It meant you were going to sweat, possibly cry, and for sure, hurt.
“Hop on up and let’s take a look.”
Maverick wore cargo shorts that unzipped at the knee. He only wore them to rehab and only when he had to remove his leg. Unzipping the one side, he let the fabric fall down and puddle at his shoe. Starting the process of removing his leg, his mind was distracted by the scent his wolf kept trying to pick up.
Normally he’d just dismiss his animal’s interest. But this wasn’t like his usual need to track something down. His animal was urging him to find that scent. Get closer to it, taste it. It was distracting and unusual.
He got his leg off and Nick squatted next to the table. He twisted it this way and that, running his hands over Maverick’s puckered skin. The scars had healed well. He was lucky. They were flat and he didn’t have to worry about hard ridges that would make his socket even more uncomfortable.
Nick did find the spot on the back of his calf that felt like it was on fire. It wasn’t; the skin was barely broken since his body kept healing the wound. If he’d been human, that same spot would have been a bloody mess.
“I think we can make a pretty simple adjustment to relieve the pressure. Any problems with the fit? Too loose, too tight?”
“Nah, fit is fine, I think my muscle flexing under that part is causing the problem.”
“Have you thought about getting a permanent leg? No more sockets.”
Maverick had thought about it—having the metal part of the prosthetic permanently installed into the remaining bone of his leg. No more sockets or sleeves, just a true leg that extended from his remaining limb. But that wasn’t something that would work for him. His wolf couldn’t have a metal human leg sticking out of his hind leg when he shifted. So Mav was left with what he could remove.
“Not for me. I know you guys are always looking for guinea pigs, but this little piggy is resigned to what I have.”
“For the record, you called yourself a pig, not me. Just want that on the official record,” Nick said.
“Duly noted. So what about this leg?”
“I’d like to have the orthotist take a look, but I’d say we need to maybe switch up the material and redesign.”
Maverick gave him a nod, and settled in for a wait. Nothing happened fast there. The line of people waiting was always long, schedules weren’t set in stone, and nobody got any closer to the front by complaining. His day was scheduled to be here, so Mav lay back on the table and closed his eyes. Might as well grab a few winks while he could.
Prudence wasn’t sure what she was feeling. She had focused her attention on things she could control once she’d left the rehab the day before. She went to work, texted her knitting group, and tried to research online rehabilitation and possible things she might be coming up against.
Claire and Ethel said they would be happy to work on crutch covers to make them a little snazzier and more comfortable. Her knitting group was going to get ahead of making some hats, and fingerless gloves. Things they thought would be nice no matter what someone’s injury might be.
Pru went to bed feeling more confident, although still a little scared. She’d traveled through South America on her own and wasn’t as nervous as she was feeling now. She’d shown up today thinking it was going to be one of those situations that you dreaded until you got started and it would get easier.
She was wrong. It was still hard. She had been there for over an hour and hadn’t gotten much of a response from those that she really wanted to help. A few people told her they would be interested in covers for their leg braces. Black fabric was most often requested. Not exactly what Pru was expecting. A few of the older clients suggested shawls for when they were sitting in the waiting room. The air-conditioning was often too chilly. These were all things that she could easily do for them. But her heart told her she needed to find those that were having a tougher time and help them too.
Pru had been avoiding the back room with the tables after what she had seen yesterday. That was where her fear was coming from. There was no way to deny that her life had been comfy, easy, and delightfully uncomplicated. She’d never suffered a tragic injury, nor had she even known anyone that had. The only loss she could claim was the passing of her grandmother. Even that wasn’t a shock, but a slow procession towards the end that her grandmother was confident in passing into.
How the families and friends of those wounded soldiers supported their loved ones was a miracle in her eyes. The strength of those that were recovering and those that were behind them made them all heroes. Pru didn’t want to be a hero; she just wanted to be a help. A tiny cog in a giant wheel of support.
“They don’t bite, usually.” A voice behind her made her jump.
She turned to see a man that she had noticed walking around the facility.
“What?” she asked, flustered at getting caught so deep in her thoughts.
“The patients. Most of them don’t bite. No promises, but you are probably safe going in. Are you here with someone?”
“Oh, no. I’m here working on some knitting and sewing projects,” she explained.
The man’s brow furrowed at her explanation. “Knitting, huh? I’m Nick. I’m a therapist here.”
“Prudence, but you can call me Pru. I spoke with Mr. Gill and asked if my knitting group could come up with some things your clients could use. I’m a little afraid, to tell you the truth. This room is more daunting than the rest.”
“It is. But these people might need you the most. I can introduce you around to a few people, if you like.”
“I’d appreciate it. I’m usually very outgoing, but I am out of my element here,” she admitted.
“Yet here you are. So what kinds of things were you thinking of knitting for our patients?”
Prudence started telling him about what the patients had suggested to her. She told him her original idea of knitting for amputees. That she thought it would be a pick-me-up.
“Not being an amputee myself, I can’t really say if they would want that. Their limbs can be very sensitive after surgery. Cut nerves that don’t know there isn’t more flesh and blood beyond them can irritate and cause excessive pain.”
Prudence gave her lower lip a chew. It was a bad habit she’d never been able to break herself from. “Well, that throws my plans out the window.”
She didn’t want to sound dejected, but her plan was dissolving. There was still lots of comfort she could bring—and she would—but she really wanted to do
something for the ones that honestly scared the crap out of her. Prudence was determined to face the scariness and unknown to be able to make a difference.
“Not necessarily. Maybe you can just modify your plans a bit. I have some clients that might benefit from something other than knitwear. We are often limited to more medical fabrics. When their prosthetics are off, they might appreciate something softer, more fitted to reduce contact. Soft fabrics fitted for each of them. I can’t imagine they would turn down something custom. Color is not what we care about. So much beige, white, and black probably reminds them of their differences. It’s very antiseptic and a constant reminder.”
Prudence could imagine having to put on the same cover or brace every day, the item standing out against your clothing that you chose to express your individuality. That was something she could help with.
“I can definitely do that. We don’t just knit, we sew and have a few designers in our group too.” Prudence was starting to feel more confident. This was going to work, and she’d make a difference.
“Great, let me show you around.”
Chapter 7
Nick walked her into the room to the first table. On it sat the woman she’d seen before, the one with the ball. Today she wasn’t smiling. There was a tear streaking down her cheek that broke Pru’s heart.
“Hi, I’m Prudence Boyer. I’m here to see if there is anything my sewing club could make for you to help in your recovery.” Her speech sounded a little practiced, and that’s because it was. With the addition of changing out knitting to sewing, it’s what she’d been saying for the last hour.
“Sewing?” The woman was confused and Prudence jumped in.
“Yes. I was noticing that a number of people here might be able to use some custom items to help them. I saw you yesterday working with a ball. Looked like that was a big accomplishment for you.” Prudence really hoped she didn’t offend the woman by saying that.
The tears that were already in the woman’s eyes got heavier. “It was. I haven’t been able to close my fingers since my accident. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to use my hand again. It hurts, but they moved. I’ve been willing them to move for months. I was so happy and mad all at the same time. Do you know what I mean?”
“I’ve been frustrated in my life, but I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you. Is there anything we might be able to help you with?”
“Actually, I wear a brace now when I’m not doing therapy. The edges are hard and rub on my skin. I’d love something soft with no seams that could go under it. It also gets really hot and itchy.”
“That I can help you with. Do you mind if I take some measurements? I can get something for you to try the next time you come in.”
“That would be great,” the woman sniffed, her tears not so sad now. “I’m Erin, by the way. Sorry, I’ve forgotten how to act around normal people.”
“Hey! I’m normal people,” Nick said with pretend affront.
“You are not even close to being normal, and you know it,” Erin said, giving him a watery smile.
Prudence went to work pulling out her measuring tape from the pocket attached to her short skirt. When choosing her wardrobe this morning she realized there was nothing that could even begin to pass for professional. So she chose color again. She put on a pair of tight stretch pants that came down to mid-calf. She added a gray and orange flowered miniskirt that she’d made that she wore almost like a low belt. She’d sewn a modified hip pouch onto it that she could keep supplies in. Over the top she’d added a purple long-sleeve shirt that curved over her torso and tucked into the skirt.
She’d slipped on a dark brown pair of Birkenstocks before braiding her long brown hair into a coronet on top of her head. She’d added in an orange ribbon to tie into her skirt and dabbed on some brown eye shadow, a swipe of mascara, and a dab of gloss, all vegan, of course, before leaving the house. The only thing she carried on her was her favorite perfume from a company she’d found in Oregon, and her gloss. Her habit of lip biting left her with chapped lips otherwise.
Prudence wasn’t skinny, but she wasn’t overweight either. She’d never really thought about her body type other than how to fit clothes to it. Her hips were wide set and her legs strong from all the bike riding. She had breasts that were still defying gravity and weren’t so big she felt encumbered. A pushup bra would accent them nicely. She was lucky that even when her weight went up around the holidays her clothes were stretchy or adjustable. Prudence knew how fortunate she was to have a full stomach when she wanted it and found her rounded tummy and curvy bottom something to be grateful for.
Clothes and her body wasn’t her focus today, not that it ever really was. Today Erin was going to get a little help from a stranger. Prudence set to gently measuring the woman over the scars on her arms. She didn’t ask how it happened, or anything about it. She kept her focus on the woman underneath the scars. They talked colors, fabrics, and design. In the end, Erin was smiling and Nick was giving her a thumbs up.
Maverick had been able to doze off as he waited. It was a trick from the Army that he’d learned during boot camp. Catnaps could keep you going when you didn’t know when the next time you were going to see a cot was.
He had been dreaming about running. He did that a lot. He was running as a human, and then running as his wolf. It would switch between the two, and it was a time he wasn’t afraid to admit being truly happy. That was until he woke up.
This time his wolf had been running. It was sunny and bright outside and he was moving up a hillside in the dense forest, the tree needles and dirt shifting under his paws as he ran. He was chasing something, something that didn’t belong in the woods. Something new and tantalizing. His animal was heading straight up a narrow embankment. The ground was steep and not solid, but his animal pushed harder to tear up the path.
Whatever was at the end smelled like sweet citrus and sunshine. That amazing aroma of orange peel that would linger on your hands and make you sniff the air to breathe it in. But it wasn’t that smell that was urging his animal to hunt it down. It was the scent just under the surface. It was sweet, delicate and womanly. That fragrance was coming from a woman that his animal was desperate to find.
In his dream, Maverick watched from behind his wolf’s eyes like usual. His animal was zeroing in on the scent. It was getting stronger, filling his lungs and causing his body to twist in a need that surprised both of them.
As he crested over the hill he’d been climbing…Maverick woke up.
Knifing up to a sitting position, Maverick could feel the shape of his eyes holding his wolf’s larger shape and tilted his head down to get control. Most shifter’s eyes changed to their animal’s color when they shifted. Maverick and his wolf both had crystal-blue eyes.
Taking a few deep breaths, he got his emotions under control. He wasn’t one to daydream or imagine things that would never be. He couldn’t understand why he’d been dreaming about a woman that smelled like sunshine. He also didn’t understand why the fuck he was sporting a hard-on in the middle of a room full of people. That was not something he would live down if Nick saw it.
He tried to clear his head, but every breath he took filled his lungs with that scent his animal had been after. Was it a lingering side effect of the dream? Was his animal’s nose broken? He could swear that citrus scent was in the room. Maybe they had switched cleaning chemicals to that all-natural shit. But again, it was what was under the top scent that had his animal pacing in his head.
Maverick scanned the room and saw the usual suspects, until he looked toward the door into the room. At the first table Erin was talking to a woman in a brightly colored skirt that was gently holding her damaged hand.
Mav took in a number of things. The woman had a nice ass. The short skirt she was wearing cupped over her hips and made her pert butt look bigger than it probably was. He noted there were strong legs under that ass. She wore those hippie shoes that were pretty common in Oregon. Her hair was piled up o
n her head and had lines of orange weaved through it. He could see bangles and threaded bracelets on the woman’s arm.
The thing that piqued his interest and his eyes zeroed in on was the fact that Erin was letting her touch her arm. Erin didn’t like anyone touching her, even the therapists. It was a constant battle when they were working on her stretching. Mav had felt the tension coming off the woman on a number of occasions. He knew what she was going through.
This time she was smiling up at the colorful woman, turning her arm under the woman’s delicate grasp. Mav could see her hands were slight, delicate, but held strength.
He watched in silence as the two talked. Mav had to stop himself from panting. His wolf wanted to suck in that scent that he was telling him was coming from the woman on the other side of the room. He felt like he should know her, that they had met before, a familiarity that could only come with knowing someone.
Mav knew the club and those associated with it. His pack family was in California, but somehow this woman felt like them—like home. Maybe it was a pack member he’d never met, or a new member. Someone that had been welcomed to their pack and was carrying their scent. Even that wasn’t the answer to why he felt a pull to this woman.
He watched her move down a few spots after waving goodbye to Erin. He kept his gaze on her and knew it wasn’t a casual glance. He was staring hard at her, willing her to turn around so he could see her face.
“Uh, Maverick?”
Maverick whipped his head around to the voice at his side that he was ashamed to admit had snuck up on him. Barry, the prosthetist, was looking at him confused.
