And yet, despite significant progress, in his darker moments it was hard not to feel depressed by his body’s restrictions. He felt brittle and weak, like the man who had run cross-country with the weight of full combat kit was gone forever.
The onset of a bitter winter hadn’t helped. At first, the thin dusting of snow was beautiful. It brought with it a brief, awestruck calm, like man and beast were asleep, but the wet Oregon days weren’t cold enough to keep the world peacefully white for long. By day, the slush was halfhearted and wet, but at night it froze to perilous ice, and the real fear of falling unnerved Jed far more than he cared to admit.
His saving grace was Max. Jed left the cabin each morning to find the yard cleared and the truck scraped. He was a little bemused by the unobtrusive care Max had decided to take of him, and he was grateful. Grateful and… something. It had been a long time since he’d been cared for by anyone, let alone another man. One of his buddies taking an extra patrol didn’t count. That was work. Max? Max was… fuck, Jed had no idea.
All he knew was he felt drawn to Max in a way he hadn’t felt since he met Paul. Back then, he’d been captivated by Paul’s easy ways and wicked humor, but despite his addictive, devilish grin and the unresolved complications between them, it wasn’t the same as the way Max’s gleaming eyes made his head spin. Some days it unsettled him to the point where he avoided Max, and yet others, he found he couldn’t get enough. He hadn’t decided which sort of day it was when he drifted out of the hospital one cold afternoon a week or so before Christmas to find Max perched on the back of his truck.
“What brings you here?” Jed reached for Flo and petted her ears. She rose up and put her paws on his shoulders, whining her greeting.
“I heard it was a good day out,” Max quipped, watching Jed dodge Flo’s tongue.
Jed refrained from rolling his eyes, pretty sure Max was as familiar with the inside of a hospital building as he was, and the darkly ironic way it could suck the life from a man. “How did you get to Portland?”
“Bus,” Max said. “I needed some custom parts for the old Sea Ray in the shed, and I figured you could give me a ride home past the grocery store. We have princesses descending for the night tomorrow, and in case you haven’t noticed, our place is lacking the required amount of pink sparkly crap. That won’t wash with the critters. We need to go shopping.”
Jed blinked. He’d grown used to the way Max rattled off everything on his mind in one breath, but on days like today, he could only nod. He hadn’t forgotten his promise to take Max to the grocery store, but the impending sleepover had slipped his mind. He inclined his head to the front of the truck. “Get in.”
A little while later, he found himself in his own personal hell. America had changed since he’d last frequented a Walmart, and he gazed around the grotesquely large store in muted horror. Damned place was bigger than an aircraft hangar. The huge array of goods seemed vulgar to Jed, and for a moment he found himself missing the oppressive Arabian markets he’d grown to hate. Back there, he’d known the score. Here, in the warehouse-sized store, he felt adrift.
Max appeared beside him with a jumbo shopping cart. “Want to drive? Give you something to lean on?”
Jed grinned despite himself. “You think I should lean on something with wheels? That’s not gonna end well.”
“Good point.” Max called Flo to heel. “But if you’re not going to push this delinquent thing, then you have to pick out the pink shit for the bed and….”
Jed zoned out again. His senses heightened and his vision narrowed. He analyzed the people around them. Their faces seemed too close. Most were oblivious to his scrutiny, but a few cast curious glances at Flo in her purple harness. Jed stared hard at an unwitting man whose gaze lingered. What the fuck was his problem?
“Jed?”
The man pushed his cart in the opposite direction. Jed swiveled his gaze back to Max. “Which bed?”
“Mine,” Max said, though he shot Jed a strange look. “Tess doesn’t always sleep well, so I figured it might help if I made my room a bit more like home.”
“They can have my bed. I don’t sleep much at night anyway.”
It was true. While Max seemed to go to bed and get up at pretty much the same time each day, military life had conditioned Jed to snatch most of his rest in daylight. He hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in years.
Max shook his head. “Thanks, but Belle doesn’t like your room. She thinks the boogeyman can see through the giant window. It’s fine. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Jed opened his mouth to offer Max the use of his own bed, but his attention was drawn to the shopping cart and the hodgepodge of goods Max had thrown in. Chickpeas and hot sauce? “What the hell are you cooking?”
“Bean burritos. It gets a bit messy, but they love them.”
“Really?” Jed was skeptical. From what he’d seen, both girls were finicky eaters and seemed to exist on fish sticks and tater tots.
Max leaned across him and snagged a can of black beans. Habit made Jed step back. It was never good to let someone into your personal space—it made them harder to fight. Then he saw a smudge of oil on the back of Max’s neck and found himself distracted by the smell of cut wood and fresh cotton. He felt a rush of unexpected heat, unsure if he wanted to wipe it away or rub it into Max’s skin.
Oblivious, Max dropped the can in the cart. “Really. They eat better when there’s nothing else—no candy, no junk. You’ll see.”
Jed supposed he would. Besides, Max was excited about the impending sleepover, and his bright mood washed over Jed like a summer breeze. He knew Max’s energy wasn’t always quite what it seemed, but he enjoyed Max’s sunny grin and verve. With a heavy PT session weighting Jed’s limbs, Max was a sight for sore eyes. He almost forgot about the harsh lights and plastic music that made his skin itch.
Almost.
They reached the home furnishings aisle. Jed glanced around, torn between the strange, alluring calm Max bestowed on him and the creeping unease of being stuck in a crowd without his gun. Blood rushed in his ears and his hands twitched as he fought the urge to spin around in a slow three-sixty.
Beside him, Max held up two sets of pink bed sheets for him to inspect. Jed stared. He knew Max had asked him a question, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think of an answer.
Max nudged him. “I’m rubbish at this stuff. Hearts or ponies?”
Jed swallowed heavily. He couldn’t bring himself to care, but he knew Max well enough to know he wouldn’t quit. “Ponies.”
Max tossed the pony-covered sheets into the cart. After doubling back to pick up green apples, he finally declared them done.
Relieved, Jed followed him to the checkout and swiped his card before Max could intercept him. Back at the truck, refusing the handful of bills Max shoved his way was a little more difficult. With a rueful grin, he split the cash in half and passed the excess back. Max scowled, but it was halfhearted. He seemed worried, and Jed was too tired to figure out why.
Back at the cabin, Jed pulled the truck to a stop and opened the driver’s door. He paused a moment, steeling himself to haul his aching body out. Max hovered, but something in Jed’s expression seemed to dissuade him from lingering long.
Just as well. Jed was tired, and his head was spinning from the Walmart experience. Put together with the inevitable rush of having Max so close to him, he was pretty sure he’d tumble them both to the ground, and not in the good way.
Sometime later, he woke to find he’d passed out on his bed without ever making it to the shower. The afternoon had faded into night, and despite the ever present ache in his belly, he felt revived. A hot shower cleared his head, and once he felt steady enough, he dressed and ventured out of his room.
Barefoot, he padded the length of the cabin, but Max was nowhere to be found. His absence struck Jed as strange. Max was a creature of habit. Early evening usually found him foraging in the kitchen for his supper.
He didn’t know what t
o make of the warmth in his chest when he eventually found Max outside, tending to a rudimentary oven of bricks set over an open fire. The scene was familiar, like Jed had been there before in another life. Max’s soft grin hit him like a train, and for a moment he found himself frozen, his feet planted stubbornly on the icy ground.
“Power’s out,” Max said by way of greeting.
Jed shook himself into motion and made his way carefully across the yard to sit on the spare upturned milk crate. “Gas out too?”
Max carved the lid from a can of tomatoes and emptied it into the pot he had over the flames. “Nah. I didn’t feel like poking around in the dark.”
Oh. Jed was so used to operating at night that he sometimes forgot to turn the lights on. He eyed the homemade stove with interest. It was crude and simple, but experience had taught him that was often the best way. “What are you cooking?”
“The beans for the burritos tomorrow. We can have some tonight if you’re hungry?”
Jed shrugged. He wasn’t hungry, but the spicy smell of the beans was intriguing. He watched the flames dance until Max deemed supper ready.
Max tipped most of the bean stew into a large dish, some into a bowl and chucked a bucket load of hot sauce into what remained in the pot.
Jed chuckled, amused. “You cook like a cowboy.”
“Like a tribal mama, actually.” Max handed Jed the undoctored bowl. His gaze flickered in the light of the fire, but it wasn’t the vacant haze of seizure. It was something else.
Jed felt his curiosity spike. Max had an open face and honest eyes, but his background remained somewhat of a mystery. Observing and profiling was second nature to Jed, a huge part of his job that had saved his life more than once. His life had changed, of that there was no doubt, but his instincts remained. However much he liked Max—and however distracting the chemistry between them was becoming—something didn’t fit. Max’s roots were African and his accent softly British, but where the hell did his staunchly Irish surname come from?
Jed took an experimental mouthful of food, still idly ruminating, but as was often the case with Max’s cooking, Jed didn’t realize he was hungry until he tasted it. He took another bite. Max’s smile widened. He made no comment, but seeing his eyes brighten brought the treacherous warmth back to Jed’s veins, warmth that banished the unanswered questions buzzing in his head and put him at ease.
They ate in companionable silence. When Jed was done, the heat from the fire combined with Flo’s head on his knee left him feeling decidedly sleepy again. Max sat beside him, for once quiet and still, and it took the rumble of an engine to rouse them both sometime later.
Startled, Jed craned his neck toward the approaching headlights. Aside from boat clients and Kim, Max didn’t get many visitors, and in the time Jed had been at the cabin, no one had come after dark. Jed glanced at Flo. The collie’s reaction was muted: an ear twitch and a tail flick. Whoever it was, she knew them well enough not to bother getting up.
“Relax.” Max held out his arm. “It’s Dan. I picked up some parts for the garage when I was in the city.”
Perturbed that he’d been read so easily, Jed forgot himself and gripped Max’s arm to haul himself upright. Max flashed him a quick grin and jogged over to the car.
Jed followed at a slower pace. He’d seen Dan twice since the night at the bar. Both times, Dan had tried to convince him to help run Tess and Belle’s softball team, and both times Jed had refused. He wasn’t in the mood to see disappointment in his eyes again.
Max greeted Dan with an easy handshake that turned into one of Dan’s trademark man hugs before they headed for the boat shed. Jed reached the car as Carla Valesco slammed the passenger door.
“Twice in one day, huh? I am a lucky girl.”
Jed rolled his eyes. Carla and Max were friends, but for some reason it hadn’t occurred to Jed that he’d see her anywhere but the hospital. “If you say so.”
Carla tilted her head to one side, appraising him. “You’re walking really well. I can hardly see that limp.”
“You’ve only just noticed?”
“It’s hard to judge in a session. You’re trying too hard. You didn’t know I was watching this time.”
“Great.”
“Aw, don’t be like that. I know I don’t tell you enough, but you’re doing really well. Gawking at you makes me feel good.”
The door of the boat shed opened and Max emerged. In the fading light of the fire, he met Jed’s eyes and smiled.
“Gawk away,” Jed said absently. “Just keep your hands to yourself.”
Chapter Nine
THE MORNING after the girls’ sleepover, Max glanced at the clock, rolled over, and stretched. It was dawn, and he’d woken to the sound of Jed’s truck driving away. He frowned, puzzled. Jed was an early riser—when he went to bed, at least—but he didn’t usually leave for PT until much later.
Max was an early riser too, but he’d grown used to meeting Jed in the kitchen at sunrise each morning, and the knowledge that it wasn’t going to happen kept him in bed a few minutes longer than usual.
He thought back over the past month or so. Living with Jed was… different, but haggling over who cooked breakfast was fun. Most days Max won and cooked. Some days Jed ate, some days he didn’t. Jed was strange like that. Most mornings it was obvious he hadn’t slept.
The days Jed had PT, Max didn’t see much of him, but on his free days, Jed had taken to finishing up the many undone jobs around the cabin. Max didn’t mind. He worked hard to keep the cabin from falling down, but his approach was somewhat scattered. Besides, Jed was good with his hands, and occasionally Max got lucky and caught a glimpse of him at work. No right-minded soul would complain about that.
Max groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. The sight of Jed’s strong arms and deft hands was beautiful, but it wasn’t the picture that lingered in his mind. No. The image he couldn’t shake was something far less pleasant, something that made him shiver for all the wrong reasons.
Jed possessed stealthy ninja reflexes; but a few days ago he’d emerged from the bathroom shirtless, lost in a world of his own. Max was a foot away before Jed noticed him, and by then it was too late—too late for Jed to hide the macabre burn on his shoulder, and too late for Max to hide his shock.
They’d passed in the hallway without comment, but Max had hardly seen him since. Coincidence? Maybe, but Max had seen the flash of pain in Jed’s eyes. His body bore many scars, no doubt inside and out, but he carried something in that marbled patch of skin—grief, loss, pain. Max knew those emotions well, but seeing them reflected in Jed’s eyes hurt more than his own grief ever had.
Had. Did. Would it ever go away? With another heavy sigh, Max dragged himself out of bed to face a solitary day in the boat shed.
That afternoon, he gave up on his work and called it quits early. He felt restless and out of sorts—not a good mix with tools. A scar on his own arm bore witness to that.
He locked the shed and walked back to the cabin, noting the persistent absence of Jed’s truck. He’d been gone all day, and despite Max’s early finish, it was getting late. PT or not, Jed was usually home by sundown.
Max cleaned up, then ventured back out to raid the shed where he stored vegetables. He loaded up his arms with yams to cook his mother’s yam stew. Makemba’s old recipe was one he could cook in his sleep, and something he often turned to if he was feeling off. But it didn’t work tonight. The first bite tasted bitter and metallic. Frustrated, Max jammed the lid on the pot and dumped it in the fridge. Perhaps Jed’s strange ways had rubbed off on him more than he thought.
Agitated, he drifted through the cabin. His roving gaze fell on a folded pink bedspread on the end of the couch. He picked it up, surprised Jed hadn’t tidied it away. Books aside, Jed didn’t seem to like things lying around.
Max grinned as he recalled the long-awaited slumber party. It had passed without much incident, save a round of musical beds. Despite previous insistence that Jed�
��s room was too spooky, after trying out every other possibility both girls had claimed his bed for the night.
“You can top and tail with Uncle Max.”
Max couldn’t help a snort of laughter. Belle’s very British suggestion was innocent, but the smirk he’d shared with Jed over her head had been anything but. Jed had fallen asleep on the couch minutes later, dozing through two Lion King DVDs until it was time to put the girls to bed, but Max had watched him for most of the evening, noting the way the noisy room put him to sleep. It crossed his mind that perhaps Jed wasn’t used to sleeping alone. Military life had always struck Max as communal and loud—a far cry from the secluded peace of the cabin. Maybe life had become a little too quiet for Jed.
Or maybe Max was seeing things that weren’t there.
Max took the bedspread to the closet and put it away. On his way back, he spotted a broken window catch, and it became the first of many bonehead tasks that kept him occupied for the rest of the evening.
Later, he took a shower and flopped on the couch, but after staring at the TV for a while he found himself still buzzed with willful energy. Agitation became paranoia—a creeping, prickly feeling he couldn’t shake. After a time, he became convinced he’d left his power tools plugged in. Irritated, he stamped into his boots and picked his way across the dark yard.
Flo followed him, lazy and disinterested, until the boat shed door closed behind her. She whined and scraped at the wood, reminding Max to leave the door open.
Max kicked open the door and set about checking his tools. He found them neatly packed away in their rightful place. He growled and let the tool chest slam shut, annoyed with his dysfunctional brain. He was used to his mind playing tricks on him, but he wasn’t in the mood to indulge it.
Vexed, he locked the shed. Over the wind whistling down from the mountains, he thought he heard the cabin phone. He growled under his breath—a phantom phone was his faulty brain’s other favorite trick—and set off around the lake for a late night walk.
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