Titanium

by Linda Palmer

  That brought tears to my eyes.

  A man with a prosthetic arm walked up. "Are you Xman's girl?"

  "Not yet, though I haven't given up on him."

  "Good luck with that." He laughed heartily and offered me his good hand. "Marty Wallace."

  I told him my name.

  "Zander and I were in Kabul together. He's my hero. I owe him big time."

  "Were you caught in the same landmine explosion that took his leg?"

  Marty didn't answer right away. I got the distinct impression I'd surprised him.

  "It was a landmine, right?"

  "Uh..."

  "Never mind. I'm sure it wasn't."

  He winced. "Don't tell Zander I spilled the beans, okay?"

  "I won't. What really happened to you guys?"

  He shook his head. "Better ask him."

  What could I do but admire his loyalty?

  * * * *

  On the way to the parking lot with Zander on crutches for a change, I told him about the guy I'd caught staring and described the way the hairs on the back of my neck had stood up.

  "I know that feeling well. Do you park in the same lot every day?"

  "Yes."

  "Sergeant Brian said to vary your routine."

  "Which is why I skipped class." I changed the subject since we'd reached our vehicles. "Want to grill tonight? The last renter left a rig. Well, that's what I've always assumed. Something tells me Cheap Charlie didn't buy it."

  He grinned. "Sure."

  "Then we need to go to the grocery store. Let's get rid of my car first, though."

  That's what we did, leaving my car at the duplex and taking Zander's truck to the market. I made him drive through the bank, where I did a balance check. One-thousand two-hundred dollars. I'd never felt so rich.

  At the grocery store, we bought stuff for hamburgers and split the cost even though he argued that the extra mouths belonged to him. Once we got home, I mixed up a Bundt cake and some baked beans. Around six, Zander went out to fire up the barbecue rig.

  He was outside when the doorbell rang, which meant I had to answer it. After smoothing my sparkly red shirt and tugging up my low-rise jeans, I opened the door, all smiles, and found myself facing a pretty woman with a short perky hairdo and a man with a shaved head. Both were clearly startled to see me. So startled that the man stepped back and checked the house number.

  I bit back a laugh. "Hi. You must be Mr. and Mrs. Bennett. I'm Riley McConnell, Zander's housemate. Please come in."

  "You're a girl," said Zander's dad.

  His wife, who wore black pants and a slinky sweater, elbowed him. "Clearly. And a beautiful girl, at that." She shot her husband a look I couldn't decipher. "Denise Bennett. This is my husband Kevin. It's so nice to meet you." She swept past me and into the living room. Kevin in his khakis and a brown polo shirt followed. When I'd shut the door, I turned and found her giving the place a once over that made me wish I'd dusted. "Very...homey. Much better than that depressing trailer with all those unfortunate men for neighbors. I didn't know how he was ever going to move forward surrounded by all that."

  For some reason, I had to defend Zander's choices. "Sometimes being among friends who understand what you're going through is really good medicine."

  "There he is!" Denise rushed into the kitchen to hug Zander, who'd just come in. She gushed over him like he was six or something, smoothing his hair and his shirt, wincing at the sight of his worn jeans with their strategic tears and shredded hems. Kevin joined them, awkwardly patting Zander on the back. I noticed they both called him Alex.

  The whole thing felt like a performance. Their smiles definitely didn't reach their eyes. My heart ached at the sight. Zander held up well, enduring his parents' comments about his appearance and their carefully worded questions about his leg or lack thereof. I noticed that neither parent ever really looked at it.

  We sat down to dinner almost immediately and soon had our plates filled with the food we'd prepared. Zander's chair faced mine at my table for four.

  "Daddy, tell Alex about the job you've lined up for him."

  Zander tensed.

  Oblivious, Kevin beamed. "Talked to Ralph Worth, Lloyd's brother. He says there'll be a loan officer position opening up soon. He'll have to pull some strings, but he owes me."

  Shocked, I shifted my gaze from him to his wife. They both seemed so proud of themselves.

  "For God's sake, Dad. Do I look like a banker?"

  "But it's the perfect situation and a very generous offer, considering you don't have your degree," said Denise. "We were sure you'd be more comfortable sitting at a desk."

  "You mean hiding behind one?" Zander had never looked more disgusted. "I'm okay with how I look."

  "So are we. This isn't about that."

  Zander flicked me a telling glance. Was that lie number one?

  "I hate that you're living so far away from your family and friends. Why just yesterday, Gemma Pate asked about you. I told her about your injury. She asked for your number. I'm sure she'll call..."

  Another flicked glance. Lie number two?

  Kevin spoke up. "We want you to come home, son. We miss you terribly and really wish you'd stay with us while you convalesce. You can finish college in Amarillo."

  Zander caught my eye. Lie number three.

  I wanted to throw something. How could these people ever be less than honest with a son who could spot a lie a mile away? Did they doubt his ability? And why weren't they proud of what he'd sacrificed using it to help his country?

  "May we talk to you alone when we're finished here?" asked Denise, shooting me a sideways glance.

  "No." Just that. No.

  Kevin sighed. "I know we said some harsh things when you got home. In retrospect, I regret them. But you shouldn't have enlisted without telling us. And now this injury has destroyed the future you had planned, not to mention that you've missed out on two years of college sports."

  "I'll get a degree, okay? A degree the Army will pay for. And those plans? Yours. Not mine."

  "Fine." Kevin shoveled food into his mouth in moody silence.

  Denise tried again. "We heard from Sonny Crane last week. Tell him about it, honey." She gave her husband the evil eye before addressing me. "He and Alex's dad were roommates in college. Sonny played basketball for the Denver Nuggets."

  "His boy just signed with the Lakers." Kevin sighed again. "He's going to send us tickets. Maybe we can go once you've finished all your rehab." He, too, turned to me. "Alex had real talent. Several national teams sent scouts. We expected such good things..." His voice trailed into disappointed silence.

  "No wonder he killed the competition today." My attempt to break an awkward pause in the conversation. "Maybe you should go with the NWBA, Zander."

  "What's that?" asked Denise.

  "National Wheelchair Basketball Association." Zander's tone was dry.

  "But you're walking so well. Why would you need a wheelchair? They're so--" She hesitated, but I mentally supplied a couple of choices.

  Eye catching? Embarrassing?

  "--much trouble. But if that's what you want to do, you should definitely look into it."

  A fourth flicked glance from Zander. The lies were surely stacking up. While his parents knew what they should say, they seldom managed it. And when they did, it was a lie. Poor Zander.

  Denise abruptly zoned in on me. "Have you lived in San Antonio long?"

  "Moved here in August."

  "And where are you from?"

  "Rocky Falls."

  "What do your parents do?" Kevin asked.

  Zander was squirming in his seat by then. I flashed a smile to let him know I didn't mind the questions before answering. "Actually, I was raised by an aunt and uncle after my mom died since my dad had other places to be. He recently contacted me though, wanting to meet. So maybe that has changed." I shared Leslie's and Clint's professions and talked about my planned degree.

  "Do you have a boyfriend?"r />
  "Mo-om!" Zander tipped his head back with a groan.

  His mother stared him down. "I'm simply trying to understand what's going on here."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" He snapped the question.

  "In light of your disability, I've been worried that you'll never, um--"

  I coolly cut her off before more damage was done. "No boyfriend, but I have high hopes for Zander. I mean, we're already sleeping together." I gave her my sweetest smile.

  Zander choked. Sneaking a peek to see if he was pissed, I saw a neutral expression except for a slight lip twitch that told me laughter lurked.

  As for Denise, she clearly didn't know what to say. So I changed the subject to something less volatile--her grandkids. Somehow we made it through dinner and a short visit afterward.

  To say I was happy to see them go barely described my relief. Zander looked nothing but ecstatic. We made short work of cleaning the kitchen, after which I paid some bills online.

  When I finished, I stood up and stretched. "My bed or yours tonight, Xman?"

  His face lit up. "Really?"

  I faked ambivalence. "Only if you want to."

  Zander

  Nothing sounded better than Riley sleeping within reach. "Hell yeah."

  "Then let's make it my bed. It's bigger."

  It was much later before we finally turned in and only after a couple of hours talking about nothing, thank God. I did not want to talk about my folks.

  I'll admit I felt pretty tense as I took off the leg and waited while Riley crawled between the sheets and settled in beside me. Ensuring the bad leg was on the side away from her, I lay flat on my back and resisted slipping an arm under her neck even though it felt like the next logical move.

  She turned on her side to face me, one arm tucked under her head. "Knowing when people are fibbing must be a real bitch."

  So we were going to talk about the dysfunctional Bennetts after all. Might as well get it over with. "Yeah."

  "I don't think they were lying when they said they loved you."

  Not meaning to, I turned to face her. "No, but they'd probably love me more if I'd lived the life they planned for me."

  "Could you have?"

  "Never. I wanted to do something that mattered. I wanted to help the world, even if it was only as a grade school PE teacher."

  "So elementary education was going to be your college major?"

  "Kinesiology with a minor in elementary ed. Now look at me. No use to anyone."

  "I can't believe you said that, Al-ex."

  "Call me Lex, call me Zander, call me shithead. Just don't call me Alex."

  She burst out laughing. "Okay, shithead."

  I goosed her.

  Riley squealed and slapped my hands away. That resulted in a tickle fight that knocked my heart rate into triple digits. When we both stopped laughing, she tried to make amends for my parents. "You're useful to me, Zan-der. Just look what you've done so far. Saved my life. Paid half my rent. Turned this crappy apartment into a home. You totally fill it up, you know, and I'm not sure what I'd do without you."

  I couldn't even answer.

  Riley poked me in the ribs. "Hey, you! I know that you know I'm not lying."

  "I do for a fact."

  She smiled into the dark, but I saw it. "How'd you first figure out you could tell when someone was lying?"

  "It dawned on me gradually. Someone would say something that I doubted for no particular reason. I'd later learn they'd lied. When I was eight, I went to my best friend's birthday party. I gave him a Nerf gun. He told me he didn't already have one, but I knew somehow he did even though I'd never seen it. Later his kid sister blabbed the truth--his grandfather had given him the same gun the night before. I began to test my gut by having Angela deliberately lie to me, sort of like you tried the other day."

  She nodded.

  "I always knew when she did. The rest is history, I guess. History my folks would love to forget. Would you believe neither of them has ever shown any interest in what I can do even though I've offered to let them test me, too? Maybe they think I'm lying or something."

  Riley touched my cheek. "Tell me what you do at Brook."

  Letting her change the subject, I gave her the official spiel. "I'm undergoing polytrauma rehab, which means I'm being treated for injuries to multiple body parts and organs. I was one of the lucky ones. Some guys require an extraordinary level of clinical and support services. At this point, my regimen involves rebuilding upper and lower body strength, some hip rehab, and some balance training. I have a shrink, too, and an occupational therapist to help prepare me mentally for life without a leg."

  "So when are you going to tell me what really happened in Kabul, and don't you dare say landmine. I know better."

  Damn. I'd known leaving her outside the locker rooms was the wrong thing to do. But I couldn't exactly take her into the showers with me. "How do you know?"

  "Maybe you're not the only one who can tell if someone's spouting bull."

  "And maybe one of my so-called buddies has a big mouth." Les, I guessed. Or maybe Dom. She'd met them both now.

  She switched gears. "He didn't mean to tell."

  "I'll bet." Pissed, I lay there in silence for a moment wording things in my head. "We were interrogating a man we believed had explosives. His little boy broke through ranks. Someone had strapped an IED to him. It went off. End of story." I shuddered as memory after Technicolor memory tumbled into my consciousness. "I still see that sweet little face every time I close my eyes. He didn't have a clue what was about to happen. He thought we had candy for him." My voice cracked.

  "Why did you lie to me about this?"

  "I wanted to spare you the visual."

  "No wonder you have bad dreams." Riley snuggled up, a change in position that was a definite improvement since her head now rested on my shoulder and my arm was where it should be. "You said you have a job in mind for later?"

  "My therapist is trying to talk me into something. She's the person I met with yesterday. She thinks I'd be good with little kids who are missing limbs."

  "What'd you tell her?"

  "I told her what you told your dad. Said I'd think about it."

  "You'd be wonderful at that, you know."

  I shrugged and deliberately switched topics. "What's your major?"

  "Public health. I want to be the person who talks to people living on the street. I want to give them sandwiches and medicine and condoms. I want to hear their stories and figure out ways to help."

  "Even if they're there because they're drunks, or addicts, or just plain lazy?"

  "Everyone deserves kindness, forgiveness, and a second chance."

  Her grace didn't surprise me. "Did you know there are around sixty-three-thousand homeless vets in the US on any given night? And that number has come down from what it was three years ago, thanks to a White House push to get our guys off the street. Injured vets, in particular, have a high risk of homelessness."

  "My heart is breaking."

  Knowing it really was, I pulled her closer.

  Riley raised her head and brushed her lips over mine, contact I felt right to the core. At that very moment, I understood just how deeply involved I really was. It scared the shit out of me. This had gone way past the point of wounded-vet-temporarily-basks-in- the-warmth-of-her-sunshine to Zander, the handicapped fool, falling for Riley, the girl with the soft heart.

  I'd never know if she saw me as a man instead of a rescue. While she might not be able to lie and get away with it, she could still sidestep the truth, especially if she didn't know what it really was. Sometimes that could be hard to read, even for a psychic.

  "Did I do something wrong?"

  I guessed I must've tensed. Well, maybe it was time for me to be honest, too. "I don't want your pity, Riley. I'm making it okay. My PTSD is manageable. I'm not thinking about suicide and never will be homeless, nor will I go postal. You don't need to take care of me."

  She sat
up, clearly affronted. "Did you really just say that?"

  Unable to answer, I rolled over and put my back to her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Riley

  In spite of our semi-argument, I woke up on Thursday to find myself cuddled up to Zander, who had a heavy arm thrown across my middle. That made me smile in spite of my hurt feelings. When I lifted it, he woke up, took stock of the situation, and rolled out of bed without a word. A quick peek out the window revealed it was going to be a dark and stormy day. A glance at the clock told me I was running late...again.

  I dressed, put my hair in a ponytail, and called out a goodbye to Zander, who was showering from the sound of it. Whether he heard me or not, I didn't know. Stopping only to find the morning paper and throw it on the porch where it would stay dry, I started toward my car.

  Just as I got to it, Charlie jogged up the drive. He stopped right beside me, hopping from one foot to the other. "Morning, gorgeous."

  That shocked me. "Er, morning. How was your run?"

  "Great. You should come with me sometime."

  I just shook my head. "Are you sure you didn't see anyone strange hanging around Tuesday afternoon?"

  "You mean while you were getting your nails done?"

  Huh? I got that creepy crawly feeling. "How did you know that?"

  "Um...noticed them when you got home."

  I didn't know if that was good or bad. "So did you see anyone strange?"

  "Define 'strange.'"

  "Anyone who shouldn't be lurking about."

  He thought for a minute and shook his head. "I already told Zander that I didn't."

  I noticed that he wouldn't look me in the eye. Was he lying? Had he come into my apartment or let someone else inside? He had a key and few scruples, in my opinion. If anyone offered him money to do it, he probably would. Or maybe it was worse. Maybe he'd hired Jason to accost me. But no. Besides the fact that he had no motive, he was definitely too cheap to pay anyone for anything.

  * * * *

  The UT campus looked especially beautiful that morning, with all the trees adding a splash of color that made it hard to be miserable. Between classes, I checked the bulletin board in the teeming student center for possible typing jobs I could do until I found real work. I jotted down several numbers. There were always students needing help with papers, most of them guys who expected the typist to correct spelling and grammar and maybe look up a reference or two. Luckily that came easy for me.