Have Yourself a Marine Christmas (Always a Marine)

by Long, Heather

  “Not a problem, we’ve got that covered…don’t we, Sergeant?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Kara took charge of his chair and he managed to get a look over his shoulder at Noel’s retreat. He’d have to do something nice to thank her.

  “I’d wipe that smirk off your face,” Kara informed him as she navigated toward a weight-lifting chair.

  “I wasn’t smirking.” Had he been?

  “Oh, yeah.” She parked the chair and moved around to check the weight ratios. “Let’s get one thing straight, Sergeant. You skipped your physio, which means you slowed down your progress at best, backpedaled it at worst. Today, we’re testing your limits to see what side of the scale you fall on. You skip again—I’m turning your case over to Logan Cavanaugh. Clear?”

  Well, at least Noel wasn’t pissed at him. “Crystal.”

  She fit the pulley grip into his left hand. “Good man. Give me ten reps. Let’s go.”

  An hour later, muscles crying, he was still in a good mood and then Kara dumped his sorry ass in the pool. Fortunately, he could handle the float; it was the laps she demanded that proved his endurance had taken a hit. Refusing to give into the burn, he pushed through the fifth lap.

  The cramp caught him off guard and he went under. Fuck! Fighting the pain and his own body, he fought his way to the surface and then an arm wrapped around his side and flipped him onto his back.

  “Easy,” Kara ordered in a brisk, no-nonsense tone of voice. “Focus and breathe—I have you.”

  Frustration lost the battle to the band of muscle seizing along his shoulders. Kara walked toward the edge, guiding him until his hand bumped the wall. He gripped it and pulled free of her hold. Bracing his arms on the side, he bowed his head.

  “Breathe,” she repeated and dug her thumbs into the muscles, but made no attempt to help him hang onto the side. When they finally unlocked, he sagged against the cool concrete and panted.

  “Okay, so what did we learn from that exercise?” she asked

  “Listen to the muscles.” He pushed the answer out past his gritted teeth. “Pushing past the pain is the Marine taking the man too far. The man isn’t ready for that…yet.” But by God, he would be.

  “Excellent.” She leaned on the wall next to him.

  “So what’s my prognosis, Madame Torturer?” He’d done every damn thing she’d asked of him, pushed his limits. He knew the thigh lifts were lighter than they should have been.

  “No better or worse than our last check. So that’s good.” The emphasis on the final word told him she wasn’t finished.

  “But…?”

  “But you have cramps this week and you didn’t last week. Part of your regimen requires regular physical therapy, not only to avoid atrophy, but also to help maintain quality blood flow, reduce the chance for swelling or infection. You are so close to being done, it’s incredible. We’re ready to move on to the next stage—but you aren’t up here.” She tapped the side of her head. “You were, but you’re slipping.”

  Here it comes….

  “So, I’ll recommend you talk to one of the therapists, either James or someone else if you’re more comfortable.”

  “Recommend?” The details were everything.

  “Yep. I’m not writing you up or adding a note to your jacket. I won’t report you—but only if you agree to let Noel make the call for you if she feels it’s necessary.” A sticky offer, but not an unfair one. “She knows you best, and of all your therapists, nurses, and doctors, she’s the one who’s been with you since you got here.”

  And apparently, it had been noticed. Flexing his hands on the edge of the concrete, he turned the idea over in his mind. “I want to move on to working full time in the prosthetics.” The day he mastered them one-hundred percent, he’d have his full mobility and he could leave the hospital wing. The decorative nightmare they’d turned it into just gave him more impetus.

  “You gotta take care of them if you’re going to,” she agreed. “But do we have a deal?”

  A door opened on the far side of the pool area and Rebel’s focus locked on Noel heading in their direction around the Olympic-size area. “She’s smart as hell and doesn’t let me get away with shit.”

  “I know.” Kara grinned. “I’m willing to cut you some slack because she won’t.”

  “We have a deal. I’ll be here tomorrow—with the prosthetics on.” He hoisted himself up and made it into a sitting position. She followed him out of the pool and tossed him a towel.

  “He’s all yours, Noel. I’ll see you two in the morning.” Kara waved and gave him a significant look.

  He nodded, message received. Agreeing to the deal had only been the first step. It was up to him to let Noel know.

  “You got it—oh, and I saw a sexy Marine waiting for you outside.” His good mood evaporated at Noel’s response. “I believe he mentioned fondue.”

  Kara laughed. “Derek’s been dying to try this place down in Addison, and Jazz gave us a gift certificate at the engagement party. I’m out. Tomorrow morning, Sergeant. I’ve got my eye on you.”

  Noel crouched next to him, took the towel from his hand, and began to rub his hair dry. “You need a haircut.”

  “You really shouldn’t tell another woman her fiancé is sexy.” Where the hell had that come from?

  Brows arched, she gave him an assessing look. “Why not? Just because he’s a limited edition doesn’t mean I can’t admire the chrome.”

  Catching her wrist, he shook his head. “No admiring the chrome.”

  “Hmm. Pity.” She slid her arm around his waist and he wrapped his damp arm along her shoulders.

  “Why pity?” He asked once she’d gotten him in his chair. Everything ached, but the stiffness told him he was alive and he appreciated the sensation.

  “I admire your chrome all the time….”

  The flirty words escaped before she could stuff them away. Rebel’s scowl deepened, and a warm feeling bloomed in her stomach. She really shouldn’t enjoy upsetting him. It flew in the face of everything they tried to accomplish—and the plans she’d just spent ninety minutes turning somersaults to accomplish. Pushing the chair toward the shower rooms, she changed the subject.

  “We need to get you washed up and changed. I brought fresh clothes.” The benefits of the locker and shower rooms in the officers’ gym included the specially equipped showers with seats designed for patients like Rebel, who needed consideration.

  “Since when do you give me sponge baths anymore?” The arch question reminded her more of the old Rebel, quick with a quip and more than willing to laugh at his own expense if it lightened the mood—particularly on a grueling day.

  “I don’t. You graduated from those.” She rolled the wheelchair right into the double-size shower stall. “Everything’s in reach, see?”

  He nodded, but didn’t look at the shelves placed at his height or the dual shower nozzles he could raise or lower with the push of a button. In fact, he ignored all of it, his attention completely on her. The damn fluttering in her stomach doubled when their gazes clashed. “You can stay. You know, in case I slip….”

  The muscles on his chest flexed as he took control of the wheelchair and maneuvered right next to the shower seat. Months of physical therapy and grueling recovery had taken an already fit body and sculpted his torso, chest, shoulders, and arms to near god-like proportions. Her stomach filling with a completely inappropriate heat, she tapped the side of her nose.

  “Good Catholic girl here. I don’t do voyeurism.” She withdrew and grabbed the shower curtain to close it for him.

  “I wasn’t asking for voyeurism.” Rebel’s delicious mouth curved into a playful invitation. “I need someone to wash my back.”

  Hitting on her wasn’t his usual modus operandi. “Did you get hurt during PT?”

  The playful smile on his face dimmed. “Cramp.”

  Frowning, she wanted to twist his ear like she did to Joseph when he did something stupid—except, in this case, Rebel hadn’
t been stupid. He’d told her before she stepped out. “Where?”

  “Shoulders.” He grimaced and shifted from the wheelchair to the shower seat. The muscles along his arms rippled with the action. “Tried to drown myself.” Despite the conversational tone, she respected what it cost him to admit it. It had taken her months to get that kind of trust out of him, so she shoved all her wildly inappropriate feelings down and pushed the wheelchair out. “Okay, start the water and get going, I’m going to grab a bathing suit.”

  “I’ll leave the swim trunks on,” he offered.

  “I’m a big girl. The naked doesn’t scare me.”

  Madre de Dios, Noel.

  “Doesn’t scare me either, so don’t change on my account.” His challenge floated after her and she was grateful that she made it around the corner before the heat scorched her face. It took her a few minutes to run down the hall and grab her suit. She changed, folding her clothes and setting them on a bench, then flipped the door lock to private before stepping into the shower stall.

  Rebel had his head tilted up, face to the hot spray pouring down on him. His shorts were on the rack next to him, so she kept her gaze above the waistline. She almost hated to interrupt his bliss. Settling on the opposite wall, she tried to ignore the damage the steam would do to her hair. She should have put it in a ponytail.

  “Thanks,” he said in a quiet voice, not opening his eyes.

  “You’re welcome.” She’d worked with a number of different patients over the years, but Rebel was her favorite. It was no use pretending otherwise. “How are the shoulders?”

  “Sore.” A brief smile softened the hard line of his jaw. “But a good sore. I overdid it.”

  “I’m surprised Kara let you.” It wasn’t like the therapist. Kara understood the men she worked with. If they pushed themselves too hard, she usually pushed back.

  “Let’s call it an object lesson in rebellious behavior.” Self-deprecation marked his voice and he leaned forward to grab the shampoo, lathering a small amount into his thick hair. The first few months, he’d insisted on a buzz cut, military precise. But it had grown out some, and he’d let it. It barely touched his nape, but it definitely fell over his ears.

  Hmm was a safe enough, non-committal response. “Did it work?”

  “Hell no.” He grinned for real that time and she laughed.

  “Good, I don’t know what I’d do if you suddenly became the poster child for restraint and cooperation.” Jump for joy, especially if it meant he’d be happier. But the simple truth was, the irascible part of his nature sustained him through his recovery and gave him strength to face his future. Not everyone coped with his level of aplomb, and she’d heard more than one doctor comment on it.

  “You have nothing to worry about then.” He rinsed his hair and caught her gaze. “Want to wash my back?”

  “Are you milking the cramp?” she asked, but her palms itched to get on his skin.

  “Maybe a little.” He shifted on the seat and a wince traveled across his expression. She’d never have seen the fleeting change if she hadn’t been watching for it.

  “But you are sore.” It wasn’t a question. Stepping into the spray, she picked up the soap and poured a nickel-sized amount. His skin was hot under her palms, but hopefully that was only a reflection of the scalding temperature of the shower. “Damn, I forgot you like to parboil yourself.”

  “Shit, sorry.” He rolled the dial down some.

  “I’ll live.” She’d do more than live, but she concentrated on getting him clean rather than exploring the way his muscles moved under her fingers. He bowed his head, and she took the time to massage while she washed. His long sigh was reward enough for the action. “How much did you overdo it?”

  “Apparently skipping PT several days running wasn’t a good idea.”

  Noel snorted. “Really? Good to know.”

  Skimming her hands over his skin, she glanced at his lap. He’d draped a towel over himself. Amusement and gratitude transformed into embarrassment when he caught her looking. He scored a mark in the air with his forefinger and winked. “I thought it was better for both of us if I took the chrome out of the equation.”

  Inappropriate or not, Noel burst out laughing. “You’re going to Hell, Marine.”

  “Yeah, might as well make it worth the trip.” But the sound of his humor was better than sprinkles on a cupcake.

  After his shower, she helped him dress. Rebel complained once when she ducked behind the privacy screen to change into her clothes, but shut up when she pointed out no chrome for her, no chrome for him. Riding on the good mood, she tossed his jacket at him and dragged on her own.

  He fingered the coat skeptically, but put it on. “You skip this for a walk in the park and you want one on to walk to my room?”

  Pulling her ponytail out from under the collar, she shrugged in an effort to downplay her big surprise. “Your room moved.”

  “It what?”

  “It moved.” She took him out of the officers’ gym and headed down an adjacent hallway toward the residential exits. The size of the hospital wing had been large enough when Captain Luke Dexter first opened the facility, but in the nearly two years since he’d built it, they’d continued to make additions. “In fact, I packed up everything in your room and carted it all over while you were doing your therapy.”

  “Where to?” Suspicion filled his voice.

  “Hey.” She tapped his shoulder. “Have a little faith. You’re going to love it.”

  “Then why don’t you want to tell me where it is?”

  “Because.” She grinned impudently at the back of his head and took the double doors that exited to the main walkway. “I don’t want to.”

  “I’m being kidnapped.” The mock sigh was laughable. “You want me for my chrome.”

  And if that wasn’t a thrilling image, she didn’t know what was. “Hey, you guys have been lusting after my body for years, so turnabout is fair play.”

  “All right, I’m game. I’ll let you use me for all your lustful purposes if you promise to return the favor.”

  Noel damn near tripped and muttered a silent prayer that he couldn’t see her face when he offered her such a temptation. Playful, keep it playful. “Bribes will get you nowhere.”

  Rebel canted his head as she followed the winding sidewalk. Despite the curves in the path, it was as level as the designers could have wished, cutting through a greenbelt and right up to the first set of residential apartments.

  “Noel….” The breathless note of wonder in his voice sent her heart scampering. It was exactly the reaction she’d been going for.

  Pausing at the corner door, she parked his chair and circled around him to hold out the keys. “Your new room.”

  “Woman, I could kiss you right now.” He whooped, took the key and, after a moment’s maneuvering, unlocked the door and let them in. The flattened entryway provided easy access to the wheelchair and she let him go in first before following.

  “Well, don’t get ahead of yourself. You don’t get one-hundred percent independence until we pick up your prosthetics in the morning. I’ll be bunking on the sofa tonight, but I figured since you weren’t thrilled with all the music and—” she bit off the word decorations, “it was time.”

  “Seriously?” He spun the chair around like the expert he was. “This is mine now?”

  “Yes, sir.” She pushed the door closed and leaned on it. His excitement reminded her of a child on Christmas morning. “Like I said, I’ll stay here tonight. Get you settled, make sure everything is where you need it. This apartment is outfitted for you. We’ve been waiting for one to free up and I heard a rumor, so I sped up the processing….”

  “This—this is fantastic.” He wheeled through the doorway and down the wide hall to the bedroom. “You got me a bigger bed!”

  Laughing, Noel let him explore and headed into the kitchen. They’d delivered the groceries, so it only took her a few minutes to put away the dry goods. Everything had
to be at wheelchair height for now, but he could rearrange it as soon as he was up on his legs.

  “You have takeout flyers here from all the local places. You get a twenty-percent discount from most of them,” she called and set up the coffee maker. Her night of driving coupled with non-stop movement since she’d arrived at Mike’s Place wore at her. “They also did a basic foodstuffs delivery—eggs, milk, sandwich fixings, some microwaveable meals, and dry goods. Basic cereal. Oh—and MREs—apparently they like to make you feel right at home.” She pushed the disgusting little packages to the rear of the counter.

  Some of the guys actually said they liked them and she’d tried one on a dare. Blegh.

  “If you want anything specific—” She was still yelling when she turned around and found Rebel sitting in the doorway to the kitchen. “Holy hell, you’re quiet.”

  Unrepentant glee warmed his expression. “Pizza. We’re getting pizza. Did they bring beer?”

  It was her turn to frown. “No, they did not bring beer.”

  “Why the hell didn’t they bring beer? Do you know how long it’s been…?”

  “Because you, sir, are not cleared for alcohol.” She walked over to him and wagged her finger. “And don’t try to sneak any in. I’m wise to you.”

  He caught her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I can live without the beer. Thank you. Seriously—thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and went to find the phone and order pizza.

  Chapter Three

  The apartment was damn near close to perfect. Unsurprisingly, Noel turned out to be great company. She conceded to his desire for a Coke with his pizza, the sugary drink almost too sweet after months of not having any, but worth it. They watched reruns of Alien, and Aliens before crashing, but even though his bed was comfortable—Rebel didn’t sleep well. Noel lay fifteen feet away, sleeping on the sofa in the front room, and his painful awareness of that fact didn’t prove very conducive to sleep.

  Focusing on the restive silence helped—so much so that the moment he heard her moving in the other room and the quiet shush of the bathroom door closing, he eased out of bed and into his wheelchair. By the time Noel emerged, freshly showered and wearing clean clothes, he had coffee and toast ready.