Giving It All

by Arianna Hart

  “IED?” Grant asked, without thinking.

  “Fallujah,” the man replied, facing Grant.

  Lifting up his pant leg, Grant showed his prosthesis. “Zerok, Afghanistan.” He held out his hand to shake the other man’s and mentally smacked himself as the man’s right arm was a prosthesis.

  The man grabbed Grant’s hand with his curved, metal hand. “Hey, is that the BiOM? I’ve heard a lot of good things about it. They’re working on something like that for arms too.”

  “It’s amazing. I can go upstairs and ladders, and I don’t fall when I go down ramps. It’s made a huge difference in my life.” Grant wasn’t sure how much he should say. Here he had both his arms, both his eyes and his scarring was limited.

  “Awesome. I’m on the list for the arm one. I hope it works just as good.”

  The elevator dinged and they both got on. Grant pressed the button for the surgical floor. “I take it you’re going to three?” Grant asked, indicating the maternity floor.

  “Yup. My wife just had our first child. A girl, if you couldn’t already tell.”

  “Congratulations, man. That’s great. How long have you been married?”

  “A year next Wednesday.”

  “Whoa, you didn’t waste any time.” Grant’s mind spun. “How long have you been out?”

  “I got discharged four years ago. Went through some rough times recovering, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “I met Becky at a class reunion. She and I were high school sweethearts but broke up when I went in the Marines and she went to college. I thought she’d be disgusted by this.” He waved a hand, indicating his scars. “But she said I was still the best guy she’d ever dated. It took a while, but eventually I decided to risk believing her. Best chance I ever took.” He smiled and his whole face lit up.

  The elevator stopped at the surgical floor. “Here’s where I get off. Congratulations. I wish you all the luck in the world with your little girl.”

  “Thanks, I’m gonna need it. No asshole is going to date her until she’s thirty. Look, my name’s Trev, Trevor Hatch. A couple of friends of mine who are ex-military meet up about once a month or so. You know, to bullshit, tell lies about our sex lives and drink a few beers. If you’re interested, we meet at O’Malley’s Pub on Harris Street the third Wednesday of every month, around seven. If you want, come on down.”

  “I’ll think about it, thanks.” The door alarm on the elevator started to beep, so Grant stepped out and let the doors go. “Take care.”

  Trev waved with his free hand as the doors closed.

  Grant leaned against the wall, taking a minute to wrap his brain around what he’d just heard. Trev had been injured much worse than Grant had, yet he seemed the happiest guy alive. He was down one arm and one eye, yet he acted like he had the world in the palm of his hand.

  How did his wife feel about making love to a guy with only one hand? Did she have to help him clean his stump? What about his missing eye? Didn’t that bother her?

  Obviously not, seeing as she just had his baby.

  What a fucking hypocrite he was. He wanted everyone to treat him like he had no injury, was still the same Viking he’d always been, but when he spotted someone who was in the same boat as him, his first thought was pity.

  If there was anyone who didn’t need his pity, it was Trev. He’d beaten his demons and was living his life.

  For the first time in a long time, Grant took a deep look inside and realized how much fear he held on to. Sure, he was able to hide it behind anger, but underneath was a greasy fear of what? Rejection? Failure? Revulsion? Did he really think he had to be perfect for the people in his life to love him?

  As idiotic as that sounded, he realized it rang true. He’d been damn lucky all his life. Growing up, he’d had two parents who loved him, he hadn’t struggled in his classes, he’d been good looking and dated the hottest girl in school and gotten into BUD/S on the first try. His life had been damn near perfect. Now that it wasn’t, he was afraid of…what?

  Before he could explore that further, a doctor in scrubs walked to the waiting room. Grant followed, wondering if it was Greg’s doctor. Gratefully, he shoved the disturbing introspection aside. There’d be time for self-analysis later.

  The doctor stood in the middle of the waiting room and said, “The Anderson family?”

  Ellie stood and the doctor crossed to her. Grant joined them and held out his hand to the doctor. “I’m Grant Anderson, Greg’s cousin. How is he?”

  “Your cousin was a very lucky man. If the knife wound had been a little bit lower, it would have ruptured his bowel and he would have risked sepsis or worse. There was severe bruising to his abdomen and we had to remove his spleen. He’s had considerable blood loss and received three units of blood.”

  “Will he live?” Ellie asked.

  “He’s not out of the woods yet, but if he makes it through the night, his chances improve dramatically.”

  “Is he awake?”

  “He regained consciousness briefly, according to the paramedic, but he’ll be sedated for the next twenty-four hours.”

  “Can we see him?” Grant asked.

  “Not tonight. He’ll go from recovery to ICU, and you can visit him there briefly tomorrow. I suggest you go home and get some rest. There’s nothing more you can do here.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Grant waited until the doctor had left before he turned to Ellie. “I need to call my mom.”

  “I’ll grab the car and meet you out front.” She gathered her things and Grant followed her out of the waiting room. He couldn’t wait to get out of the fucking hospital.

  By the time Ellie got the car, paid an arm and a leg for parking and worked her way to the hospital entrance, Grant was already off the phone and waiting for her. He wasted no time getting in the car, and his whole body slumped as she pulled onto the street.

  “How’d your mom take it?” Ellie asked.

  “She’s holding on by the skin of her teeth. Aunt Karen is flying up tomorrow and taking a car service directly to the hospital. Mom asked if you could sit with Dad while I deal with the police and she helps Aunt Karen?”

  Ellie mentally ran through her schedule. “I promised Mary Ellen I’d watch baby Emily tomorrow morning so she could go to Hunter’s pre-school concert, but I can watch her and your dad at the same time. Let me just call Mary Ellen and see if that’s okay.”

  “I’ll do it. You just concentrate on getting us home. I want a beer to wash the taste of hospital air out of my mouth.”

  “Her number’s in my phone,” Ellie said, handing it to him.

  Grant dialed the number and a few seconds later said, “Hey, Mary Ellen, it’s Grant Anderson, borrowing Ellie’s phone. She’s driving.” He paused and Ellie heard Mary Ellen’s voice going a mile a minute on the other line but couldn’t make out what she was saying.

  “No, she’s still on for tomorrow, but I was wondering if she could watch Emily at my folks’ place. My mom and I need to go into Canton and Ellie said she could sit with my dad and the baby at the same time if it was okay with you?”

  There was another spate of chatter that Ellie couldn’t make out.

  Grant turned the phone away and said to Ellie, “She wants to know if you want her to find someone else. Her father can miss the concert, she says.”

  “Absolutely not. I’m not missing my baby time. You tell her to bring that little angel over in the morning.”

  Grant turned back to the phone. “She said— Oh, you have good ears.” He waited while Mary Ellen spoke again before he said, “I don’t know. We’ll see. I’ll think about it.” He paused again. “Hey, I’m about to go into the dead zone. I’ll get back to you about that. See you tomorr—” And he hung up.

  “You made her thin
k the call dropped,” Ellie accused.

  “It was the only way I could think of to get her to stop badgering me.”

  “What did she want?”

  “Apparently, she and some others on the Founders’ Day parade committee have decided they want to have me be the honorary grand marshal. I’ll get to ride in a convertible at the front of the parade and open the park for the picnic.”

  “That’s quite an honor for Dale. Orleane Campbell would give her eyeteeth to be grand marshal.”

  “She wants me to wear my dress uniform.”

  “Is that a problem? I mean, do you have it?”

  “My mom has it somewhere. She took it when I was discharged. I think she was afraid I’d sell it or something.”

  “Then what’s the problem? Is it not allowed?”

  “I’m pretty sure I can wear it for the parade. I’m not positive about the regs, but that’s not the issue. I’m not sure I even want to be in the damn parade, forget be the grand poobah of it.”

  “Why?”

  Grant was silent for a bit and Ellie thought he might not answer her. When he did, his voice was low and a little hoarse. “I don’t know if I deserve it anymore.”

  “Oh, no. Grant, who deserves it more?” Tears rolled down her cheeks as her heart broke for him. How could he doubt himself after everything he’d been through, everything he gave for his country?

  “I’m no hero. Hell, I don’t even have a job anymore.”

  “You stop that. You stop that crazy talk right now. You could have a job in a hot second if you wanted it. You’re taking care of your family, and that’s more important than any stupid job. When your dad is better or when Jenny is back and can help your mom, then you can worry about where you’re going to work. For now, you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to. Don’t you see? You’re a hero, not just because you served, but because you’re still doing everything in your power to take care of the people you went overseas to protect.”

  She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her T-shirt, but the tears kept coming. Why couldn’t he see how strong, how brave he was even though he no longer served in the military?

  “I wish I could see the man you see when you talk like that.”

  “Then look in the mirror, idiot.”

  Grant laughed, but ruefully. “Where were you when I was going through rehab? I’d never have been able to sink into self-pity with you around.”

  “Whining is unattractive. And I doubt you needed me much in rehab. You probably drove your physical therapist nuts by doing too much.”

  His laughter was more genuine this time. “You’re not far off. She banned me from the weight room when I almost tore my new skin graft.”

  “Serves you right. Now you call Mary Ellen back and you tell her you’re honored and will wear your dress whites for everyone to see. You’ll have all the ladies swooning as you pass. They’ll have to have the fire department follow you so they can hose down all the overheated women.”

  “You could ride with me, to protect me,” he teased.

  “Nope, I’m going to sit on the sidewalk and clap as you go past.”

  “I’ll save some candy for you.”

  “Good. I like the fireballs the best. Call Mary Ellen or she’ll hound you to death.”

  “She’s not the only one,” he said, loud enough for her to hear, but he picked up her phone and dialed the number.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  As they drove through Dale, Grant got a text from his mom and let out a chuckle. Who’d have thought his mom would be texting?

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Mom sent me a text. She wants you to come into the house. She’s saved us some dinner and she knows you won’t eat if you go straight home.”

  “That sounds like your mom. I kind of wish I hadn’t taught her about texting, now she can mother me long distance.”

  Grant laughed again. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. I can hear her tone right through the text.” He shot back a message saying they were almost home. “Still, she has a point. You end up taking care of everyone else. You need a little mothering every once in a while.”

  “I do not take care of everyone else. And I do know how to cook. I’m actually a fabulous cook.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. In fact, I bought the ingredients for lasagna this morning. I was going to offer to make dinner for you.”

  “Then everything went to hell. It feels like years since you seduced me in that slinky sundress.”

  “I can’t believe everything that happened today. You know, for the most part, my life was very calm and predictable until you came back to town.”

  “Then I guess it’s a good thing I came along to shake things up. Calm is boring.”

  “Says the adrenaline junkie.”

  Grant chuckled again and took her hand from where it rested against the center console. He brought her fingers to his mouth and lightly bit the pad of her finger. “Admit it, you like it when I stir things up.”

  “You’ll sure as hell stir me up if you keep doing that.”

  He smiled and sucked harder on her finger. “That’s the point.” God, he loved how she responded to everything he did to her. His cock hardened, pressing against his fly, and he realized she wasn’t the only one affected by his playing.

  “We are about to walk into your mother’s house. You know, the mother who’s trying to play matchmaker? If she sees us holding hands, she’s going to start making the guest list for the wedding.”

  Ellie’s words hit him like a bucket of ice water. He didn’t immediately release her hand, but he did stop teasing her. “I can handle my mom, don’t worry. Any plans I make about my future will be just that, mine.”

  “That sounds good in theory, but if you don’t want her analyzing our every look, you better keep your hands to yourself,” Ellie said as they pulled into the driveway.

  Grant waited until they were parked behind the garage before unbuckling Ellie and yanking her across the front seat to him. He captured her mouth and went in for the attack. He didn’t give her busy mind a chance to come up with an excuse as to why he shouldn’t kiss her, he just did everything in his power to draw a reaction from her.

  It worked.

  She let out a moan from low in her throat and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her breasts rubbed against his chest as she pulled closer and the contact was electric. He slipped his hand under her shirt, dying to feel her firm breasts. Had it only been this morning that he’d had them in his mouth? It felt like eons had passed since he’d tasted their sweetness.

  “God, we have to stop,” Ellie said, pushing herself away. “I’m not going to see your mother looking like I’ve just wrestled in the backseat with her son.”

  Grant looked at the tiny backseat of the car and knew they’d never fit back there anyway. “It’s too small. We’d be better off with you on top of me here in the passenger seat.”

  His cock twitched as she turned a heated gaze on him, as if considering the possibilities.

  “No, your mom is waiting for us. Besides, I don’t have time to replay teenage fantasies. I have a ton of work to do to make up for everything I missed today. Come on, let’s go have dinner and fill your folks in on Greg’s condition. How are you going to spin it?”

  Grant thought about it for a moment. “I think I’ll suggest he interrupted another break-in. We don’t know for sure what happened, so that wouldn’t be lying. There was evidence that someone rifled through the office, so it’s a logical assumption.”

  “Sounds good. Now keep your hands to yourself. At least until we have time for you to use them properly.” She gave him a saucy wink before climbing out of the car.

  The nightmare tore through Grant like a piranha through a missionary. Before he could fight his way out of the memories swamping him, he rolled
out of the bed to crouch on the floor. It was a move he’d done hundreds of times.

  But he’d always done it when he had two legs.

  Grant went sprawling across the floor, his brain still fogged with memories of being under attack. His heart raced and adrenaline flooded his system, insisting he do something.

  “Grant? Honey? Are you okay? I thought I heard a thump,” his mom called through the door.

  He clawed his way out of the hellish memories and rolled to a sitting position. “I’m fine, Mom, just fell out of bed. Go back to sleep.” Wiping sweat off his brow, he was disgusted to see his hand shake.

  It had felt so fucking real. His brain knew he was safe inside his childhood bedroom, but his body, his instincts, were still humming as if he were in the hills of Afghanistan. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on breathing in, holding it for a five count and letting it out to a ten count. He allowed the memory to play itself out. He’d gotten out of that battle alive and his team had completed their mission.

  Damn, he hadn’t had a nightmare in close to six months. After he’d gotten off the pain meds after getting blown up, he’d had them nightly. While he’d been in the rehab hospital, he’d even had a few waking nightmares. Luckily, the VA hospital was used to dealing with PTSD and had him closeted with a shrink before he could refuse it.

  As much as he hated to admit it, the sessions with the psychologist had been a godsend. He’d refused the medication, but the techniques he’d been taught really did help. But shit, he’d thought he’d beaten those demons. Six months with no nightmares and now, bam.

  What did you expect after finding Greg beat up and bleeding? Hello? Trigger?

  That made sense. He hadn’t had many occasions since he was injured and then discharged to be involved in dangerous situations. His muscle memory had probably triggered his subconscious.

  There, all very logical. He wasn’t cracking up. Grant pulled on his prosthesis and got to his feet, ignoring his still-shaking hands. Might as well go do something because he sure as hell wasn’t getting any more sleep tonight. As he headed to the bathroom, he noticed the lights were on in Ellie’s apartment. What the fuck? It was—he took a glance at the clock in the hall—quarter after four in the morning. What was she still doing up? After they’d had dinner with his folks, she’d bailed saying she had a ton of work to do. She couldn’t still be working at this hour, could she?