Handle With Care

by Patrice Wilton

  “Yeah?” Brent’s expression was skeptical. “You sure you’re not using the kid to get to the hot mom?”

  Shane shook his head. “It’s not like that.”

  “Then why do you look a little worked up right now? What aren’t you telling me? I bet she’s real pretty, right?”

  “Beautiful. And smart. But she’s not interested in someone like me. Hell no. She can do a whole lot better than me.” He shrugged it off. “Besides, her son is her life, and he wants a dad. That’s all he talks about.”

  “You know how that feels. Been there, done that.”

  Shane nodded. “Yeah, it was rough growing up without a father around. Funny thing is, when my mom did remarry, it was too late. I was nearly twelve, turning into a snarky teenager, and I didn’t want some new dad telling me what I could and couldn’t do.”

  “Yeah, you were kind of snarky,” Brent teased. “But don’t dodge the subject. Have you taken the doc to bed?”

  “No way. Lately, she’s been seeing some attorney who’s recently separated. They both have sons who are friends. Convenient, huh?”

  Brent cocked an eyebrow. “So, when did that ever stop you?”

  “I’m not that guy any longer,” Shane said, and ran a hand through his hair. “I haven’t got the time to date, and hell, if she’s interested in remarrying, the hospital’s loaded with doctors. She could have her pick. Why would she waste her time with me?”

  “Maybe she likes lawyers better.”

  Shane turned away from Brent to pick up his books. “Why are we talking about her? I want to know about you.” He walked across the room to the dining table, which he’d turned into his desk. “Still having fun hunting down the Taliban?”

  “This conversation needs a beer. I bought a six-pack on my way here. Now that you’re not drinking, will it bother you if I have one?”

  “No problem. I’ll take a soda, though.”

  Brent returned from the kitchen with a German beer and passed him a soda. Sitting on the couch, he put his feet up on the coffee table. Major sat down on the carpet under his legs.

  Brent drank most of his beer before he started talking. “The Taliban have been testing our new battalion with repeated ambush attacks, so we stepped it up a notch. Believe we killed a top commander in Sangin in a drone strike.”

  “No shit. That’s great news.”

  “Yeah, but we lost twenty-four Marines in one weekend, plus hundreds more who were wounded.” Brent stretched his arms over his head, flexing his shoulders. “Where I am, it’s constant warfare. They’re out to kill us, and we’re doing our best to return the favor.”

  “Ah, the joys of war.” Shane tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “Nope. Don’t miss it.” He leaned forward and looked directly at his friend. “I don’t like what’s going on over there. Kids are getting beaten up bad. What about you flyboys? Holding your own?”

  “We lose a few, but we’re hanging in.” He shrugged and reached for his beer. “What can I say?”

  “You haven’t told me how you got away. Go AWOL?”

  Brent gave a short laugh. “No. Dad had a stroke a few days ago. They gave me a week’s leave.”

  “Damn. I didn’t know.” He got off the chair to give Brent an awkward hug. “He was like a dad to me, too. I spoke to Jake not long ago, and he didn’t say anything.”

  “It only happened on Thursday, and I flew home straight away. He’s a tough old bird. I expect he’ll pull through.”

  John Harrington was a retired general who’d seen many battles, raised three sons, survived the death of his first wife, and at seventy could bench press darn near twice his age.

  “You bet he will,” Shane said. “He still has Bambi taking good care of him, doesn’t he?”

  Brent made a face. “Her name’s Tiffany, and yes, she’s still hanging around.”

  A year after his wife passed away, John had taken a new wife, a woman only a few years older than his eldest son.

  “Too bad,” Shane muttered.

  “My thinking too.”

  They talked for hours, catching up on the year they’d spent apart, rehashing the good old days when their troubles had been relatively simple. War had changed that for both men, and they knew they’d never view the world in quite the same way again.

  “So, I guess I’m sleeping on the couch tonight,” Shane said, getting up to search for sheets.

  “No. I booked a room at the Hilton down the road.”

  Shane turned to him in surprise. “You shouldn’t have done that. This is your home. You can come here anytime you like. Besides, I want you to stay. Who knows when we’ll see each other again.”

  “I know, but I’m heading back overseas tomorrow.”

  “What about your Dad? You said you had a week.” Shane didn’t bother to hide his disappointment. They’d been friends for so long, they could be honest with one another.

  “It got cut short. My CO said I’m needed. Dad’s stabilized and there’s nothing I can do. No point in sitting around staring at walls.”

  “I hate to see you go back so soon. You just got here.” Shane stood there, looking at his one and only true friend, closer than any brother could be. “At least stay the night.” He didn’t want to say good-bye. There was too great a chance he’d never see Brent again.

  Brent stood up. “You know how it is. It gets in your blood. My squad needs me, and I can’t hang around here while they’re getting shot up.”

  “You should never have enlisted. This was my war, not yours.”

  Brent’s jaw clenched. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

  “It might be stupid, but it’s true. If I hadn’t been captured, you’d never have joined the military. You did it because of me.”

  “Don’t be an ass. You’re not that important.” Brent glared at him. “I have my own reasons too. I’m sick of this terrorist bullshit and what they’ve done to this country. Got everyone running around scared. It needs to end, and it needs to end now. Before they do something really stupid and blow us all up.”

  Shane looked down at the floor. He was sick of it too, and so tired of seeing other young men returning from the battlefields without legs and arms and other body parts. But the physical disabilities were the easier wounds to heal. The heart and the head were the major casualties of this war.

  “Whatever you think,” Shane glanced at his friend and was afraid for him, “be careful, you hear?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  After Brent left, Shane roamed around the empty apartment, anxious and too wound up to sleep. He should have insisted that Brent stay the night. They hadn’t seen each other in a year, and who knew when they would again. If ever.

  “You fucking jerk!” he said aloud. “You, of all people, should know better than to go off to war.” He punched his fist into a wall, welcoming the quick shot of pain. Bloody war was enough to make a man crazy. Talking out loud, ranting and raving like a lunatic. He was one of them now. Not mad enough to be locked up, but not right in the head either.

  He flung himself onto the couch and flicked on the TV, and then stared at the screen mindlessly. He wanted to talk to someone, but the only person besides Brent that he felt comfortable talking to was Lauren. He couldn’t call her, though. She’d be sound asleep, and even if she weren’t, he didn’t want to chance waking up Josh.

  But he sure did want to hear her voice.

  She always seemed to know exactly what to say. And the way she looked at him made him feel like a man again. He wanted to be a fully functional guy who could make good love to a woman and watch her face flush, her body tremble with pleasure. Damn war. It had stolen his manhood too. Destroyed his confidence, his pride, his ability to stroke and please a woman.

  He curled his one good hand into a fist and hit his thigh hard. The pain felt good. Better than feeling nothing. Then he looked at his prized i-limb. What woman would want to go to bed with a man and a stump? Hell, he didn’t even know if he should ke
ep it on or take it off. Either way, it would be a turn-off, and he didn’t want to see pity or revulsion in another woman’s eyes. Once was enough. The look on Melanie’s face when she’d come to see him at Walter Reed had cut right through him.

  Maybe he’d be lucky and his needs would simply go away. He didn’t want a hooker, and the only woman he did want deserved someone worthier than he.

  “So how did your date go the other night?” Trish asked Lauren during a lull between patients.

  “We had a wonderful dinner, if that’s what you mean.” Lauren didn’t want to discuss Kevin, or her lack of response.

  “And after dinner? I hope you at least kissed the poor guy.”

  “Of course I did. And there’s no reason to feel sorry for Kevin. Trust me, he can hold his own.”

  Margaret giggled. “Maybe he’d rather you hold it for him.”

  Lauren shook her head, but couldn’t resist smiling. “You are naughty, you know that?”

  She laughed. “Anthony thinks so. He likes it when I talk dirty.”

  “Things are going good with you two?” Lauren asked. “What’s it been? A whole week?”

  “Funny.” Margaret tossed her head and tilted her chin in the air. “You’re a very funny lady, you know that?”

  Trish winked at Margaret. “Forget Anthony for a minute. I still want to hear about Lauren’s kiss.”

  “It wasn’t earth shattering, if that’s what you want to know. But he also came over on Sunday and we had the house to ourselves.”

  “Whoa! Now we’re getting somewhere,” Trish said, a hopeful expression on her face. “Don’t hold out on us.”

  “That’s what he thought too—that he’d get somewhere,” Lauren said. “But I took him to preview an auction at a museum that I’d been anxious to see.”

  “Well, you can kiss that one good-bye,” Margaret said, rolling her eyes.

  “Au contraire. He hasn’t stopped calling me since. ‘When are we going to get together? Can I come over? Need someone to come and tuck you in?’” Lauren made a face. “His persistence is both flattering and annoying. I’m still not sure about him yet.”

  “What are you waiting for?” Trish asked. “From what you’ve told us, he’s pretty much perfect, isn’t he?”

  “Something is missing. I’m not feeling the passion, you know what I mean?”

  “Maybe it’s because you’re tight with Shane.” Margaret sighed, and her cheeks grew pink. “He’s a hard act to follow.”

  “You’re not still hung up on him, are you?” Lauren didn’t know why it bothered her, but it did.

  “No, of course not. But if he wasn’t lusting after you, it might be different.”

  “He’s not. For heaven’s sake, Margaret, I told you that we made an arrangement that benefits us both. There is absolutely nothing going on.” She could feel her cheeks heat up as she spoke. The last thing she wanted was for Margaret, and the rest of the hospital, to know she had a growing attraction for Shane.

  “Well then, what’s keeping you out of Kevin’s bed?” Trish asked, hitching her butt on the side of a stretcher.

  “I’m just taking my time, making sure this is what I want. When I know, he will too.”

  “Don’t take too much time,” Trish said. “Women will line up for the privilege of going out with a wealthy, handsome divorced man.”

  “Well, good luck to them.” Lauren pretended to yawn. “We have another date this Saturday, and if it goes well, who knows?”

  She’d agreed to see Kevin once more—it would be the final test. The few kisses they’d shared hadn’t lit any fires, but maybe he was holding back too. They both had their kids’ friendships to consider. But this was it. If the chemistry remained dormant on Saturday night, she’d let him down gently.

  The ER became active again. It was the usual chaos, but the hospital staff took it in stride. A car accident brought in two; and then a seventeen-year-old kid, higher than a kite, who’d stabbed his sister and then himself. A beaten wife, brought in by her husband, and who refused to file a complaint. She insisted she’d fallen on the sidewalk outside their home. And on and on it went.

  Exhausted to the point of feeling giddy, Lauren finally managed a short break. On her way to the cafeteria, she spotted Shane and Rick bringing in a stretcher.

  She rushed up to them. “What have you got here?”

  “Gunshot wound,” Rick answered.

  The young Hispanic man looked to be in his late twenties. His face was purple, and he was breathing in loud, painful gasps. His shirt was stained with blood, and Lauren could see the bullet hole between his sixth and seventh rib.

  “The exit wound’s under his armpit,” Shane told her. “Might have nicked his lung.”

  Lauren’s tiredness vanished. Within minutes she had a chest tube set up and a scalpel in hand. Her fingers trembled for a second, and she sucked in a deep breath, forcing herself to relax. Once the tube was in, she watched the blood pour from his chest like the red sea.

  “We’ve got his pulse and blood pressure,” she announced. “He’ll live. At least for now.”

  “Good job, Doctor.” She knew it was Shane who spoke, and she nodded in acknowledgment without looking up.

  When the man was stabilized enough to be moved to a room, she pulled him aside. “I was about to grab a coffee when you walked in. Care to join me?”

  He nodded and looked around for his partner. “Hey, Rick. I’m gonna grab a coffee with the doc. Call me if something comes up.”

  Rick nodded.

  “Bad day?” Shane asked her, as they walked down the corridor.

  “Yes, but probably no worse than normal. It’s just that it never stops, you know?”

  “Come on.” He grinned and shook his head. “You thrive on the activity. I’ve seen you in action a zillion times. It’s like you go into a zone or something.”

  “No way. I do not.”

  “Do too. It’s kind of sexy.”

  She felt her cheeks heat up. “Saving lives isn’t sexy. There is nothing even slightly romantic about it.”

  “I’m just saying, you look flushed, excited.” He cocked an eyebrow. “It’s a turn-on.”

  “I do not,” she answered hotly. “And the idea is deplorable.”

  “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

  “Oh, now I’m cute, am I?” She glared at him, her hand on the cafeteria door. He was standing a little too close to her, and she could smell his day’s sweat mixed with his special scent. It had its own appeal.

  “Cute and sexy.” He winked and held the door for her to go through.

  She had to duck under his arm. “You better take that back. You know how I feel about work.” Her chin went up. “I’m a professional, and that’s all. I have no time or inclination to be anything but.”

  “More’s the pity,” he murmured.

  She whipped her head around, and found him staring at her butt. “Find anything interesting?”

  He had the decency to blush, which made him all the more adorable. “You want some dinner?” she asked. “I’m starving and I’m buying.”

  “Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse.” He picked up two trays and handed her one. “Not often I can con a pretty lady into paying for dinner.”

  “I doubt that,” she scoffed. “I bet it happens all the time.”

  “Not that lucky, I’m afraid.”

  “You could be if you wanted to be.” She stepped in front of him and kept her eyes glued on the sign that listed the day’s specials. Every nerve end in her body was keenly aware of his presence. As a doctor she knew the symptoms, but as a woman she guarded against them.

  “Is that another offer?” His hand accidentally bumped into hers.

  “In your dreams,” she said over her shoulder. Her stomach fluttered and she put a hand over it, hoping to tamp it down. Being around Shane made her jumpy, feeling things she wasn’t meant to feel.

  “Oh, yeah. I can dream, and then some.” Shane stood so close to her tha
t she could feel his breath on the back of her neck.

  She turned to face him. “What is it you want, Shane? Sometimes you flirt with me, and maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing since you flirt with everyone, but it’s annoying.”

  “Why does it bother you?” Shane gave her a smug smile. “As you say, I flirt with everyone. Besides, I think you like it.”

  “I do not. It confuses me, and I don’t like to be confused.” She stared straight into his eyes, not caring who could see them, or if tongues were wagging. This was important. She had to make him understand. “I don’t play games and I prefer to keep everything out in the open. You say you aren’t whole, that you don’t want a woman in your life, yet I get vibes from you. Why?”

  “Maybe I’m as confused by all this as much as you.” He took her arm and moved her down the line. “What would you like to eat?” When she didn’t reply, he told the girl behind the counter, “I’ll have the meatloaf with all the trimmings. She will too.”

  Lauren looked at him. “I can order my own food.”

  “Then why don’t you?”

  “Are you always this bossy?” she retorted, wondering why she’d invited him for dinner.

  “Are you always this difficult? We’re just having a bite to eat.”

  She looked at the embarrassed serving girl, who had one plate ready and was waiting on the other.

  “Meatloaf will be fine. Thank you.”

  Once their plates were loaded, they headed for a table near the window. “I’m sorry if I seem snarky,” she said. “It’s been a rough day.”

  “I should apologize, too. You wanted straight answers and I didn’t give them to you.” He reached across the table to give her hand a gentle squeeze. “Besides, I refuse to argue with a woman who buys dinner.”

  She laughed. “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?”

  “And I think you have a problem with that.”

  “Not if it’s genuine. Like I said, I can’t tell with you.” She tried to read his eyes, but they weren’t telling her much.

  “You asked me what I want. Truth is … I’m not sure.”