by Zoe York
Her smile grew, just a bit. “You could.”
He went back to Dean’s house that night, but it was the last night he slept elsewhere. When Dean brought him home after rehab the next day, it was to the little bungalow.
His brothers moved fast. All of his stuff had been moved over while he was gone.
Jenna had dinner and Netflix cued up.
“Hey,” he said.
She gave him a quick smile before turning back to the salad she was tossing. “Good session?”
Not really. “It was fine.”
“Tired?”
“Yeah.”
“We’ll eat, and watch a thing, and call it an early night.”
He was exhausted when he finally lay down. Not so wiped that his brain didn’t swirl around how weird it felt to be one room over from her—not the goal, to be sure, but something. A place to start, she’d said.
It was weird.
But it was something. It was a start, and he hung on to that as his last thought before sleep consumed him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
HIS NEXT TRIP to Owen Sound after moving in with Jenna was a big one. Two appointments, on the same day, a doctor’s visit as well as his physiotherapy. She’d offered to take him, but he asked Dean to drive him instead, as he knew he’d be a bear by the end of the day.
He wasn’t wrong.
“How have the last two weeks been with the disorientation?” the doctor asked as he had Sean turn his head left and right, up and down. His vision wobbled then righted itself with each movement.
“The new dosages seem to be helping.”
“Have you tried driving yet?”
“No.”
“There’s no reason not to. You’re capable of assessing and managing your own function there.”
“I’ll try soon.”
“There are assistive devices that can be installed in a vehicle to limit the amount of head twisting you need to do. Better mirrors, rear view cameras. I can refer you to occupational therapy for an assessment.”
Another layer of therapy. “Maybe next month.”
“Sure, I’ll make a note to revisit it then. How’s the sleep?”
“Shitty.”
“Are you still napping during the day?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s not the worst thing in the world—I’d rather you get the sleep in pieces than not at all—but ideally, we want you to get a good chunk of unbroken sleep at night.”
“I hear you, doc.”
“And how’s your sexual function?”
Sean froze.
The doctor didn’t miss a beat. “Decreased sexual function is a common side effect. We haven’t touched on it yet because we had other, more pressing concerns, regaining your walking and balance. But I can—”
“Please don’t say you can refer me to someone for that.”
“There are great therapists. We can discuss it again at a future appointment.”
“I’d rather we didn’t.”
The doctor rolled back on his stool and crossed one ankle over his knee. “There are options that work for most patients.”
Sean gritted his teeth. “Doesn’t feel like that to me.”
“Are we talking about decreased function or a total absence?”
The paper on the exam table crinkled beneath him as he shifted. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Nothing.”
“All right. We’ll work on that. Do you have access to material?”
“Material? Are you asking if I have porn?” He didn’t need porn. He had Jenna, lithe and sexy and smelling like sweet oranges. Nothing could be more arousing, if arousal were possible.
“Some people find pictures or videos easier to respond to, initially, than a partner.”
His skin turned hot beneath the cold sweat. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
“It’s normal.”
Sean could know that in his head. Had known it, had reconciled it for himself, in a pessimistic way.
Of course the doc would bring it up now.
Like Sean needed his… dysfunction underlined. A reminder that no part of him was going to magically start working again.
He wasn’t ready for dick rehab, too.
“Try driving,” the doc said. “The independence will do you some good.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
He meant, yeah, no, not yet, but after physio, Dean stopped at the dealership to pick up a new spare tire for Liana’s car. Sean was tired, but there was a truck with a big slash through the sale sticker that kept drawing his attention. When Dean didn’t immediately return, Sean climbed out and made his way over to the shiny red pick-up.
“See something you like?” A salesman joined him.
“Maybe.” No. He didn’t have a job. His disability would run out at some point, and then his savings would have to last him for a good long while. Until he figured out what the fuck he could do with his life now that everything he knew was out of reach.
And he had a truck.
Jenna was driving it.
Maybe he needed to get her a smaller car.
Maybe he needed to drive down the street for a hot minute before thinking about a second vehicle.
“What are you doing?”
Sean didn’t need to turn around to hear the scowl in Dean’s voice. He put a matching one on his own face and twisted around, ignoring how his head pulsed. “Looking at a new truck.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“Is there some law against looking?”
“Guess not.” But Dean said it in a way that made it pretty clear he didn’t approve.
Fuck him. Sean clambered into the truck and slammed the door behind him.
As soon as Dean was in the driver seat, Sean set him straight. “The doc said I should start driving again.”
“Driving. Not buying a truck you can’t afford.”
“You don’t know what I can afford.”
“I know you’re living in my house rent free.”
“You want me to pay you rent? Because I will. I’ll buy the damn house from you if that’s what you want.”
“I don’t—” Dean swore under his breath. “What the fuck has gotten into you?”
“I’d ask you the same fucking question. I was just looking at the damn truck. I’m not going to buy it. Why would you assume I was?”
That shut his brother up, and Sean slouched hard in his seat. He closed his eyes. Let the jerk think he’d fallen asleep, because that’s all Sean was good for. Being an invalid. Being cared for. Being weak.
He didn’t want to acknowledge that he was still encouraging that coddling, in a way.
The tense silence lasted all the way home. When Dean pulled up in front of the little house Sean was apparently mooching off him, Sean grabbed his backpack and his cane.
Fuck. He cleared his throat. “Thanks for the ride. I appreciate it.”
Dean just raised his hand and exhaled an exasperated noise that might have been something like goodbye.
Jenna wasn’t home, so he sat in the shower for a long time, until the hot water turned lukewarm.
When he got out, she still wasn’t back, so he dried off and stretched out on his bed, his wet hair on a towel. He wanted to have a nap, his usual post-physio rack out, but the doc’s advice echoed in his tired brain.
If he didn’t have a nap, maybe he’d sleep better tonight.
He groaned and reached for his phone. Maybe he could just have a short nap. He’d set an alarm.
No. He should stay awake.
Think about Jenna. Try to jerk off.
It wouldn’t do any good, but that wasn’t the worst idea. He palmed his junk. The best he could get was a desperate, heavy want in his gut, and some normal thickening from direct stimulation.
Two words that weren’t fucking hot in the least—direct stimulation.
He squeezed harder. Think of her tits, the taste of her skin. He’d spent two weeks licking her all over, because she tasted like sunshi
ne. Why didn’t he want that now?
He did. He was just tangled up with also wanting something he couldn’t manage. To be hard for her, to be on top of her. He pictured himself railing her. Let his thoughts get filthy, and it just made him angry.
Beside him, his phone beeped. An email notification. He’d never been a big device guy, and he was even less so now.
Do you have material?
Porn. His phone could be used for porn.
He picked it up and opened a browser window. He typed in hot athletic sexy woman, and images filled the screen. They were mostly hot, and they were all athletic and sexy.
Nothing. He clicked through to a free video site, and scrolled through the options. Cheerleaders, blow jobs, gang—nope. Blow jobs, maybe. He clicked on a video where the woman looked like Jenna. Long golden hair, ready smile. Wet mouth. He could remember it all, but putting the pieces together felt like an impossible task.
He slid his boxers lower on his hips and reached inside to cup his balls.
There was something clicking in his brain, a secret, dirty want, but it just couldn’t connect properly.
Frustrated, he shoved his phone away and rolled over. At the end of a long day wasn’t the time to experiment.
JENNA CAME home to the sound of gentle snores. Sean’s door was closed, but even through it she could hear he was passed out cold.
She doubted he would wake up, so she didn’t bother making anything for dinner. Instead, she wrote him a note telling him to call if he woke up, and she headed out the back door to see if Olivia wanted to walk to Mac’s.
“Are we getting pie?” the other woman asked as she wiped Sophia’s sticky fingers. “There you go, all clean. Go find Daddy. Rafe! I’m going out for a walk with Jenna!”
“I haven’t had dinner yet.”
“So that’s a yes to pie?”
“Of course. Sean’s asleep, and I don’t feel like cooking for one. Pie for dinner is totally acceptable. It’s pie as therapy that’s dangerous.”
Olivia gave her a smile that said she wanted to ask how that was going, but would be polite and keep it to herself.
“Did someone say pie?” Olivia’s husband stalked into the living room and swooped his daughter up and into his arms. “Is Mommy going to bring us back dessert?”
“I can do that,” Olivia murmured, pressing up onto her toes to give Rafe a kiss.
He looped his arm around her waist and held her tight as Sophia horned in on their smooch.
Jenna ignored the pang of envy that shot through her at the sweet, casual affection.
“Don’t forget your phone,” Rafe murmured as he let his wife go. His gaze stuck to her as they waved goodbye, and Olivia wiggled her phone at him before sliding it into her purse.
“He was even more overprotective with my first pregnancy,” she whispered.
Jenna laughed as they turned off the front walk and onto the sidewalk. “I can imagine.”
Olivia blushed. “I’d had every intention to space the kids out a bit more, but…”
“These things happen.” Jenna had seen back-to-back pregnancies more frequently than Olivia might guess. “You’ve got a decent spacing, really. What will there be, two years between them?”
“Almost exactly. Twenty-three months.”
“You’re fine. Official midwife stamp of approval.”
“Speaking of that…I mentioned to my doctor that a midwife was living behind me. I’m not comfortable with the idea of a home birth like Dani had, but…”
“If something were to happen, you could call me up. Any time. And Dani’s midwives also do hospital births. I’ve met them now, a few times.” Jenna filled Olivia in on the job hunt. “So I can’t just hang out my shingle, it’s not that easy, but I bet by the fall, something will click into place. And emergency hollering is always acceptable.”
“Good to know. Rafe will be relieved.”
“He’s really quite sweet.”
“You say that now. Wait until he’s texting you questions four months from now.”
“I promise I won’t mind.” They’d reached Main Street, and Jenna pushed the button for the town’s only cross walk lights.
After they crossed, Olivia gave her a sideways look. “It wasn't always easy for us. Rafe is extra attentive because of that.”
Sean had told Jenna about Rafe and Olivia’s first marriage in broad strokes. They’d married young, and divorced maybe too hastily. Two years passed before they found their way back together.
Jenna normally didn’t consider herself a nosy person, but she found herself craving the story in Olivia's own words. Like she might find some clues there to shore up her patience with her own soldier who was locked inside himself. Maybe help her maintain healthy and reasonable expectations for progress.
Hell, she’d settle for a double-dose of false hope at this point.
“How did you find your way back to each other? Can I ask that?”
Olivia threw her head back and laughed. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked sooner. We have no secrets, really.” She touched her belly. “Including this one, since I’ve already popped out, and nobody is shy about guessing whether or not I’m knocked up.”
Jenna didn’t bother to point out that Olivia had told her the so-called secret within a minute of meeting her. It wasn’t just Rafe who was besotted with their little family. And Jenna kind of adored them both for it. Their love was sweet and innocent and inspiring.
But before Olivia could dig into the story of her marriage—and re-marriage—they were at Mac’s, and suddenly not alone.
Matt and Tom were on their way in too, and Matt wanted to talk to Olivia about the annual Canada Day party, so their party of two became a working dinner for a party of four.
Romance inspiration would have to wait.
“How’s Sean doing?” Tom asked quietly after they placed their food order.
Jenna’s default answer to those kinds of questions was polite deflection. Non-answers that protected her husband’s privacy.
But Sean had told her he was confiding in Tom. She could answer the question honestly without giving away too much, and maybe in the process let the other man know how grateful she was. “He’s asleep right now,” she said. “Physio day.”
“He’s still sleeping a lot, eh?”
She nodded. “It’s good for him. As are your chats, by the way.”
Tom gave her a surprised look. “Yeah?”
“He said…” she laughed. “Well, he said you called him a jackass. But he appreciated it—because men are weird.”
“That was Jake, but yeah, we can be.”
“Thank you for being just the type of weird he needs.”
Tom nodded. “Any time.”
“His best days are two days after physio, by the way.”
“Is that so…” Tom leaned back and tapped his fingers on the table between them. “Good to know. Thanks.”
WITH HER REGISTRATION with the provincial college officially in progress, Sean watched Jenna start her job search in earnest over the next two weeks. She took Canada Day off, and they went to the town party, which was laid-back and almost fun—as much fun as one could have on a one-beer limit and while watching all the pick-up sports games from the sidelines.
And then it was back to the daily grind of rehab for him, and job searching for her. She threw herself into it, and he was damn impressed.
He was proud of her. He hadn’t been lying about that.
But it still felt weird to watch her leave for the day—to meet midwives within driving distance, to interview at hospitals, and sometimes just to explore the area—and leave him behind.
He needed to get his shit together. He’d gotten the all clear to start weight lifting on his own while at physiotherapy, because they had a full gym, and he might as well take full advantage of having made the drive in. His brothers were game to work out with him, too. They always had been.
He was lucky.
He knew it.
But he didn’t feel it, still, and he felt like shit about that, too.
The one part of rehab he’d been avoiding was talking to the psychologist. He wasn’t interested in talking about his feelings. He didn’t need a shrink to work out new life goals or some shit like that. And since he was definitely being medically discharged, thanks to the stroke, he didn’t have hoops to jump through to stay in uniform.
Maybe if he was special forces, they’d have pressured him to do more medical clearance. But a reserve officer? Nobody cared that much.
So fuck it. No talking.
But he’d been an elite athlete long enough that his stupid brain did a lot of the talking anyway.
Before he was injured, he’d thought the tour would be the first of many. He’d liked extreme racing, but it took a toll on his body. And the military gave him the same adrenaline rush, but for a greater good.
Now he was twenty-seven and his plans for the next fifteen, twenty years had literally exploded into a million broken pieces.
Except if he was being honest with himself, those goals had shifted the second he met Jenna.
He’d forgotten that in the chaos that followed the explosion. His life had shifted on its access two months earlier, too, and he’d rolled with that no problem. From the first night in Spain, he’d been thinking about some kind of forever with her.
That nebulous want, forever, quickly coalesced into a clear idea of the future. He’d wanted to be a husband, a father. Ideas which he’d never considered before. Never.
Now those wants seemed impossible again.
But as he lay in bed, listening to Jenna wake up, get the shower going, whistle in the bathroom, he couldn’t tell himself he didn’t want her.
He blindly grabbed his phone and lifted it in front of his face. Not twisting his head quickly had become second nature to him, and the vertigo and tinnitus were now background nuisances more than overwhelming distractions.
It was seven in the morning. He hadn’t been up this early in weeks, not since he’d started sleeping more or less through the week.
If Jenna was up, that meant she was heading out for the day.
He’d been planning on heading into Owen Sound with Jake, to work out and do physio, but maybe if Jenna was heading in that direction, she could drop him off.
