by Dale Mayer
Elliot
Hathaway House, Book 5
Dale Mayer
Books in This Series:
Aaron, Book 1
Brock, Book 2
Cole, Book 3
Denton, Book 4
Elliot, Book 5
Finn, Book 6
Table of Contents
Title Page
About This Book
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
About Finn
Author’s Note
Complimentary Download
About the Author
Copyright Page
About This Book
Welcome to Hathaway House, a heartwarming military romance series from USA TODAY best-selling author Dale Mayer. Here you’ll meet a whole new group of friends, along with a few favorite characters from Heroes for Hire. Instead of action, you’ll find emotion. Instead of suspense, you’ll find healing. Instead of romance, … oh, wait. … There is romance—of course!
Welcome to Hathaway House. Rehab Center. Safe Haven. Second chance at life and love.
Former Navy SEAL Elliot Carver came to Hathaway House to get help with the lingering repercussions of a mission gone bad. His body is dealing with the physical trauma of a spinal cord injury, while his mind is caught in a loop of painful memories that he can’t sideline, and both won’t let him heal the way he’d like.
Former ER Nurse Sicily Lawrence has just made her way out of a difficult relationship, and the quietness of the night shift at Hathaway House gives her peace of mind. The last thing she needs is to get involved in another volatile union. But she has seen injuries like Elliot’s before, and she knows that a certain type of therapy can help. One Elliot isn’t interested in trying.
Now, for Elliot’s sake, Sicily must push him toward the progress he needs, even it means losing him. And, with time and luck, maybe they can cross the hurdle and find each other at Hathaway House.
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Prologue
Elliot Carver stared at the letter on his lap. He’d avoided opening it for the last thirty minutes. It was from Hathaway House and—with any luck—Aaron Hammond himself.
He still wasn’t sure he should go, even if a room was available. He’d come to realize that nothing anyone could do would likely help him out. A change of scenery would be good, and if he could make a change, then this would be the best option.
If it was an option.
He’d known Aaron in the military, and like Elliot, Aaron had been injured. Hathaway House had turned his life around to the point that he was now engaged to Dani Hathaway, part owner and manager of the rehabilitation center.
Aaron had been instrumental in bringing in other people, others of the US Navy SEAL brotherhood who were in need. Then the men who served helped each other rehab. And if you were a SEAL, then the hand was held out even farther.
But what if Elliot wasn’t qualified or didn’t fit or failed to meet their medical requirements? So many aspects could mess this up for him. Including his own doubts …
“Aren’t you going to open your mail?” Finn asked, rolling to his side. He was a maverick, like Elliot. Only Elliot felt washed up and thrown away. Finn was new to rehab. New to being injured. He was in a holding pattern, but he had a mess of surgeries coming up. If he kept his positive outlook on life after all that, then Elliot would be happier for Finn. As it were, if Elliot himself could get some sleep, then maybe life would turn around for him.
Right now that looked doubtful.
He shook his head and said, “Maybe later.”
“Hell, no way. You open that. If this works out for you, then maybe I’ll give the place a try. We have to stick together. This is a battle we didn’t train for, so it’ll take all the intel we can get to make it through.”
A groan escaped. Finn was right. Elliot suddenly reached down and snatched up the envelope. If he got an invitation to go, yeah, he would go. All the rest was his fear talking.
And he’d had enough of that crap. All in, all the time. The SEAL motto he now used like a mantra.
He ripped it open and pulled out the letter.
His heart slammed against his ribs as he read the first line out loud.
“Elliot, we’d like to invite you to Hathaway House for the rest of your rehabilitation …”
“Hot damn,” Finn crowed with envy. “Go and then tell me how it is. I’ll get started on my own request.”
Elliot stared at his friend and knew Finn was right about one thing. This journey was one none of them had experienced before. They had to learn from those who had gone before.
“Do it,” Elliot said, waving the acceptance letter in his hand. “I’ll meet you there, and we’ll both beat this.”
And the two men shook hands about their future.
Chapter 1
Elliot Carver woke with his heart pounding and his mind screaming at him to run while his frozen body lay on the bed, completely soaked in sweat. He shuddered as awareness returned, and he tried to relax. Cream-colored walls and brightly hued curtains stared back at him. The same walls he’d seen before going to sleep. He was still at Hathaway House. It had been another nightmare, another horrifying event that drove through his brain and refused to leave him in peace.
They called it PTSD—post-traumatic stress disorder. Frankly he didn’t give a crap what they called it. There was no cure, there was no getting away from this and there was no improvement. It didn’t matter what they did. He had tried everything from medication to counseling to yoga. So far with no effect.
Of course, every time he woke up, the sudden jerk of the fight-or-flight response immediately sent his engines firing into overdrive and his back into painful spasms. He’d broken his back. Yet, he was one of the lucky ones—his spinal cord hadn’t snapped. That didn’t matter to his pain receptors though. His spinal cord had been inflamed and swollen. The muscles and the nerves had been badly damaged. The subsequent surgeries had set him even further behind. Several plates were put in up and down his spinal column, just to hold the vertebrae together.
However, there was no doubt about it, the doctors had done a wonderful job. He knew that. He wished they could do something about his nightmares. Sometimes he’d be sitting still and the flashes would come. He would hear bombs going off and see bits of his friends flying around him. The last thing he wanted was to mentally revisit the accident over and over again. He figured, after the hell he’d been in for months, there would’ve been some improvement. But instead of improving, it seemed his condition was worse. More little pieces of memories shot through him at too-frequent intervals, and whether he liked it or not, suddenly he was reliving more and more of his past. In no way did he want to relive six years of SEAL missions—going through it once had been bad enough. But it was as if once the memories started they couldn’t stop. And he’d relive other harsh times as well.
It was as if his mind didn’t want to give him a break. His brain was constantly on a loop. He didn’t know how to turn it off as he didn’t know how it had started. He had gone so far as to contact a naturopath about it, and they had said his dopamine levels might have something to do with it. He understood the explanation they had given, but he didn’t understand how it would help.
He might contact the naturopath again or seek out even more avenues if things didn’t improve soon.
The doctors said his condition would improve. They predicted that as his muscles strengthened his depression would reduce.
He hated the depression. It hit without warning, without any kind of logic. Sure, he had survived his accident, but he wouldn’t be in as good a shape as before. He might not do as many yoga moves as he once did, but then he now had steel bars in his spine, so what did he expect? He wouldn’t get upset because he couldn’t jump or play volleyball anymore since he could do all kinds of other things. Like walk. If he couldn’t do some activities, well, that was just life.
He was alive, he was well and he was not going back into the military. That was out forever, and maybe that was okay too. There’d been an edge to him before, reminding him time was running out. That he needed to make some decisions about how long he would do this. He loved his work and loved his job. He’d been good at it, loving the challenge and daily training. But he had been in inner turmoil for a while, as if knowing something would blow up in his face. And it had happened way sooner than he thought it would.
“Is it bad tonight?”
He turned his head to the side and smiled at Sicily Lawrence, his night nurse and hopefully a friend. “No. It’s not too bad.”
She gave him a knowing smile that said she understood he was lying, and that was okay. She had gained a lot of experience working with various patients at Hathaway House over her five years here. It was understandable she’d see right through him. Now if only she had answers for what ailed him.
“And no, I don’t need something to help me sleep. I’ll go back under eventually.”
She nodded. “Can I get you anything?”
He thought about that for a moment and realized his throat was dry, scratchy. “Would you mind fetching me some fresh water?”
“Of course not. I’ll be back in a moment.” She flashed him a bright smile and disappeared.
He could hear her soft footsteps moving down the hall. It had taken him a long time to feel connected here. He still wasn’t there yet, but he didn’t feel quite so standoffish anymore, so maybe things were getting better. He’d known several men who’d come to Hathaway House and had done fabulously well. He’d desperately wanted the same for himself. He’d connected to Sicily first.
Somebody was always on watch here. But he usually saw Sicily at this hour. She had this uncanny sense about his condition. He almost never saw her during the day. But when his guard went down and the nightmares came around, it was Sicily who followed them. Her bright-pink cheeks and creamy skin gave her a farm-girl complexion that spoke of being raised with lots of fresh air and sunshine. She was slim and fit, but he liked her smile the best. Maybe because it was always directed at him, with what seemed like a little special something behind it. Not too many men could resist that.
Of course, he’d been single for a long time, and that wouldn’t change any time soon. How was he supposed to sleep with a woman if he woke up screaming and shouting every night? It wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t what he needed. No way in hell he’d ever consciously hurt a woman—but the possibility of hurting her in his sleep was now there. So that meant no woman in his bed for a long time to come. He’d had relationships in the past—even one he thought might make it to the altar—but things usually broke off before too long because he was always on missions. Either he was out of town too much or they simply couldn’t stand the thought of not knowing whether he was alive or dead, and they’d start to have misgivings. That was usually the beginning of the end.
But that wouldn’t happen anymore. There would be no more missions for him. No more leaving the country in the middle of the night. His life had changed. Still, with some slight improvements, he could move to his own place and enjoy an independent—albeit lonely—lifestyle.
A special camaraderie was here at Hathaway. He hadn’t known anything about it until he had transferred over. Another SEAL Elliot knew had recommended he come here. Aaron had been here as a patient and was now an integral part of the place. That was all it took for Elliot. If it was good enough for one SEAL, it was good enough for another. The thought made him smile. Even now, broken and a mess, he still counted himself as part of the SEAL brotherhood. There were a whole lot worse things to belong to.
Sicily had told him three other SEALs were in residence now as well. Denton, Cole and Brock. Elliot had known them by name. They were a tight group, but Elliot didn’t know them at all personally. He should step up and introduce himself, but he hadn’t so far. He wasn’t even sure why except he was tired and frustrated and didn’t want to deal with any new stressors. Yet he could certainly use more people in his life, his new team to be a daily influence in his life—to replace the SEAL brotherhood he no longer shared in that way.
He’d mentioned them to Finn in an email. He’d known of them too. Finn was holding off to see if Elliot got the results he’d been hoping for. So far he hadn’t.
Those with support did better than those without. Elliot hardly had any family left. Only his father. His parents had divorced when he was younger, and he’d stayed with his dad, who had remarried a woman with a ready-made family. And that marriage hadn’t lasted either. He wasn’t even sure he remembered their names. How sad was that? Still, he was close with his dad, and now his dad didn’t have anyone else either.
His dad had been Elliot’s champion as Elliot made it through the surgeries. And frankly Elliot wouldn’t have been surprised if his father had done something to get him into Hathaway House. Although there wasn’t anything technically wrong with the previous place, his father thought for sure Elliot would show more improvement just from being here.
Physically he was improving—emotionally and spiritually, not so much. His counselor was good. Elliot had opened up about some of his fears and past experiences, but there was no cure for PTSD—at least not yet. His counselor kept him digging, wondering if there was anything else in his psyche compounding the issue.
So far it was a big fat no.
Sicily walked in the door, holding a large glass of ice water. Moving slowly, he propped himself up on the bed, so his head was higher.
“How’s the pain?” she asked. “You need anything else?”
He took a long thirsty drink of the cold water. When he put down the glass, he shook his head. “I’m fine. I need to sleep.” He tried to get comfortable in the bed, feeling the muscles in his back threatening to cramp with his movements. He froze and then took several deep breaths, trying to relax.
“I can work on a couple of the muscle cramps in your back if you’d like?” she asked, concern in her voice.
As this was something she had offered in the past, he wasn’t shy about accepting her help now. The surgeons had warned him about this problem. It took both Elliot and Sicily to get him rolled to his stomach so she could access his muscles. Until the muscles and nerves reconnected and healed and his body physically strengthened, spasms would be the norm. He could do certain things to alleviate them, but sudden sharp movements were not among them.
Of course, he was tired and worn out in the middle of night, and he forgot. But Sicily knew what she was doing. Before long, the tension in his back had eased. He propped himself up on his elbow and grabbed the water again. He took another long drink and then turned out the light.
“Thank you. I think I will sleep now.” He relaxed on the bed and closed his eyes, grateful sleep was reaching for him. He barely heard Sicily’s quiet tread as she left the room. His last thought was What a lifesaver she is.
Chapter 2
Sicily Lawrence headed to the nurses’ station. She flexed her fingers and reached for the tube of cream she kept there. She squeezed some onto her hand and rubbed it in.
The other night nurse, Jenna, looked up, a question in her eyes.
Sicily shook her head. “It wasn’t as bad as some nights,” she said.
The nurse nodded. “But it’s every ni
ght still, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but there’s progress,” Sicily said quietly. Most patients were asleep on their floor, so she was used to speaking in low tones. In fact, during the daytime shift, she had to remember to speak up. “According to his chart, he was having a lot of these episodes during the day too. At least that appears to have stopped.”
“Then again he’s not sleeping as much during the day,” Jenna pointed out. She was very pragmatic.
Sicily smiled. “You’re right. But as long as he doesn’t need to sleep during the day, we will take that as a step forward too.” She pulled up his file, wrote a quick note and closed it down again. She’d talk to the doctor about the situation. Elliot preferred not to take drugs as they left him groggy and unfocused. She didn’t have a problem with that, except she hated to see anybody suffer unnecessarily.
Jenna said, “It’s surprising we don’t have more patients with PTSD in here.”
“I think we probably do, but I don’t believe it’s as big an issue for some as it is for Elliot.”
Jenna nodded. “That’s possible.”
“And don’t forget. A lot of the other men and women here are on various medications, which have been known to suppress the PTSD symptoms. At some point, when they taper off their meds, that’s when their symptoms show up.”
“I can’t imagine what some of our patients went through. No wonder they have nightmares.”
Sicily couldn’t agree more. She grabbed her mug and went to the coffee station where she poured herself a fresh cup. She’d mostly worked nights since she’d been here. But in all those nights and with all those patients, something about Elliot tugged at her heart. She made a point of walking past his door on a regular basis. He was the kind who hated to ask for assistance. If he needed anything, most times he did it for himself. But sometimes he suffered when there was no need. When she caught him in one of those moments, she always made a point to step in and help. Life was tough enough when you were alone. It didn’t have to be twice as hard because you were stubborn too.
