An Everyday Hero

by Laura Trentham

  “You’re questioning everything, which is a normal reaction to unsettling news, but it doesn’t help anyone. Think about what you can do to help her.”

  “For one, not be such a self-centered jack-hole.”

  Her laugh was husky and banished a portion of the heaviness weighing on his chest. They rocked in synchronicity. Her hand was still on his and he rearranged both to lie palm to palm, fingers linked. He felt like he was thirteen again and at the movies with a girl for the first time. His arm tingled and not only because it was falling asleep.

  “Your dad will need to be with your mom at appointments.” A leading edge was in her voice.

  “Two mares are ready to foal … I don’t know if managing the farm is the life I want.”

  “It doesn’t have to be forever. Have you thought about what’s next for you?”

  He chuffed a laugh. “I’d planned to do a whole lot of nothing, but it looks like that isn’t an option. Actually, an old army buddy came by and extended a job offer from my former colonel.”

  She stopped rocking. “What? Where?”

  “A contractor managing special projects at Fort Knox. It would pay well. It’s familiar. It’s not far. I’d be able to come back to Madison as often as I wanted.”

  “Sounds like too good an opportunity to pass up.” Although her words hinted at her blessing, a sadness within them spoke to the doubts he harbored about leaving Madison with so much unfinished business. “When does the job start?”

  “I don’t know, but he’ll need an answer soon. I’m not sure what the right thing to do is.”

  Her hand twitched in his. “You have to do what’s right for you.”

  He sensed she was giving him an out. An out of whatever was brewing between them. Deepening their relationship would only make things more difficult in the months to come, yet he couldn’t seem to help himself.

  “I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings the other night.” His voice came out low and rough.

  “Trust me, I’ve survived worse humiliations.” Her tone was rife with the desire to move on to a different subject.

  He couldn’t, though. Not until she understood what had really happened. “It wasn’t you. I mean, it was but not because I didn’t feel things. And stuff.” His brain had shut down and stopped supplying coherent thoughts. He was a plane going down in a crash.

  “It’s okay, Emmett. We can be friends. Or whatever.”

  Her cheeks were apple red, and she had straightened and scooted toward the edge of her seat like a bird ready to fly away, but he held fast to her hand, desperate to pull out of his tailspin.

  “I haven’t been with a woman in a while. Especially one like you. I was deployed for almost a year and then since I lost my leg…” He took a deep breath.

  “Like me? What does that mean?” She was looking at him now, her eyes like blades ready to eviscerate him.

  “A woman that I … like. Care about. You know.” He waved his free hand as if he could conjure prettier words out of the air. Nothing came. He might as well write her a note with check boxes.

  “Oh. I see.”

  He wished he could see what she saw. Blind, he bumbled ahead anyway. “I’m worried you’ll be freaked out or turned off by my leg. Or what’s left of it.”

  There. He’d said it.

  She blinked a few times at him, her mouth in a little O of understanding before a not-so-innocent smile crept over her face. “You know it’s another appendage altogether that I’m interested in, right?”

  His breathing accelerated like a Mustang at a drag race. “Yeah?”

  She pursed her lips as if considering the point—or more likely holding back the shadow of a smile making her eyes sparkle and giving him life. She stood and tugged him inside until they were caught in an eddy of cool air.

  Her kiss knocked him back on his heels. Literally and figuratively. He backpedaled until he hit the wall. The empty picture frame around the hole he’d punched into the drywall fell to the floor, the sound of wood splintering unmistakable.

  “Why is every time we try this something gets broken?” He gave a little laugh, turned them, and pushed her against the wall.

  What was next to be broken? His heart? Was it even possible to break something that was still wounded in ways he didn’t recognize? He shoved the thought away.

  He herded her to the bedroom, their hands busy on each other’s bodies, pulling and tugging at the fabric impeding their ultimate goal. They fell sideways on the bed, his feet hanging off. She hooked a leg over his thigh and pulled his leg between hers, resting her calf along his cold, non-feeling prosthetic. Except nerve endings sent phantom tingles down his nonexistent leg as if he really could feel her touch.

  This time he didn’t stop her hand when it traveled down his leg, but he couldn’t stop the tension from roiling his stomach and tensing his muscles.

  “Does this work better with it on or off?” she asked with her lips in contact with his throat.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t had sex since before. Would you be more comfortable if I kept it on?”

  Part of him—a sizable part—wanted her to say yes. Wanted to maintain the illusion everything about him was whole and undamaged. But a kernel deep in his heart wanted the opposite. He wanted to bear himself so no secrets remained.

  “Take it off,” she whispered.

  It was his dream and his nightmare. He hadn’t allowed anyone to watch him take the prosthetic off since the last day of his physical therapy. He sat up on the side of the bed and paused with his fingers on the button that would release the heavy-duty ratchet holding his leg in place.

  He looked over his shoulder. She had rolled onto her back and scooched up his pillows, her hands linked behind her head.

  “You sure about this?” he asked.

  “Yep. While you’re at it, take off your pants too, big guy.”

  Unbelievably, a smile surfaced from somewhere deep inside, unlocked by her teasing words. Was she really so confident or was she trying to set him at ease? Did it matter? She was in his bed and ordering his pants off.

  Once decided, he made quick work of his leg and his pants. His shirt followed it all to the floor for good measure, leaving him in nothing but his boxer briefs.

  Her gaze traveled down his body to his residual limb then back to his chest. With a decidedly naughty grin, she stretched her arms out and made grabby hands. “Come here.”

  Chapter 16

  In the darkness, her breathing slowed and her body turned boneless. Emmett was curled behind her, his arm heavy across her waist, their edges tucking against each other as if carved from the same piece of wood. Strangely, the aftermath felt more intimate than the sex. More … important. Like the resettling of the land after an earthquake. Rivers reshaped and new landmarks formed.

  Except, sex wasn’t an apocalyptic event. Sex was merely a salve so they could lift themselves up and move on a little less injured. Or had the sex acted as a distraction from the confusion and uncertainty of life?

  Whatever. The sex had been good. No, it had been great. Not that she had expected Emmett to be anything less, but she hadn’t been confident his leg wouldn’t hamper him or make things weird like it had the night on his couch. Far from the awkwardness she’d feared, coming together with him had been natural.

  Now what? The actual sex might not have been awkward but her mental wrangling about the meaning sure was. Not to mention the bombshell he’d dropped about a potential job at Fort Knox. She wasn’t upset. The job sounded perfect for him, and it would get him out of the cabin and back into the world. She wouldn’t be the one to hold him back no matter how sad the thought of him gone made her feel.

  He kissed a sensitive spot below her ear, inciting shivers. “You good?”

  “I’m fine.” Her pat answer was one she’d give to an acquaintance asking after her health and she stumbled to add, “I’m good. Great. I thought we synced up well.” What was she babbling about? They weren’t phones. Trying to save the mo
ment, she asked, “Are you good?”

  “Better than.” The breath he took transmitted to her through his chest. “You weren’t freaked out or whatever?”

  She was freaked out but not for the reasons he worried about. His lack of a limb was the least of it. She turned onto her back. Although the shadows were deep, the open curtains striped his face with filtered light.

  She laid her hand along his cheek. “You are sexy no matter what. The proof was in my orgasm, so for Pete’s sake, quit harping on your leg or lack thereof.”

  His cheek moved under her hand in a smile. “You certainly have a way with words.”

  “I was always better with the melody than the lyrics.” She fiddled with the edge of the sheet as she considered the wisdom of cracking open her own insecurities. “What are we doing?”

  “Cuddling?”

  A quick laugh popped out before she could slam a lid on it. “I mean, us. Don’t misunderstand. I’m not expecting some heartfelt declaration, especially with the future up in the air, but we were friends before, and I don’t want this to screw that up.”

  “We’re still friends.” His pause was weighed with his own varied thoughts. “But there’s no reason we can’t be more than friends until things shake out, right?”

  “Your parents hate me.”

  “They do not.”

  “Okay, not your mom, but if we were in high school, your dad would ground you from seeing me.”

  “No, he wouldn’t.”

  “You didn’t see his face when I went by your house. He wanted to sweep me out of his house like dirt.”

  “Come with me tomorrow night for dinner with them.” He launched the grenade with a casualness that shocked her.

  She sat up, her sexual lassitude gone. “That’s a terrible idea.”

  “Actually, it’s brilliant. You’ll defuse the tension.”

  “I’m more of an instigator than a defuser. Anyway, you and your parents need to have some serious discussions.”

  “I don’t think my mom wants her medical issues to overshadow everything. With you there, we can be normal. Or at least pretend to be normal.”

  She eased back down but still clutched the sheet under her chin as if limiting physical exposure could protect her emotionally. “It would be too much like we’re … together together.”

  He peeled away from her and laid on his back, no longer touching her. “No problem. I get it.”

  She propped herself up on her elbow. The distance between them settled an anxious pit in her stomach. “What exactly do you get?”

  “After what happened with Beau, I can’t say that I blame you. You want sex without complications. Fine by me.” It didn’t sound fine by him.

  “I never said I was just here for the sex, dumb-butt.” Maybe calling the man whom you liked more than a little and had rocked your world a “dumb-butt” wasn’t romantic or sensitive, but his assumptions were making her mad. “I failed at my dream career. I’m completing court-ordered volunteer hours. My current job is a step above menial labor. I’m thirty and have no clue what I want to do with my life. Why would you want to be with a mess like me?”

  “I thought we’d already established I’m as big a mess as you are if not bigger.”

  “Not reassuring, Emmett. Two messes make one ginormous mess.”

  “How about we come at it from a different angle?” He played with a lock of her hair that had fallen across his chest. “You care about other people. You work hard. You can laugh despite setbacks and challenges. You don’t put up with my BS. And I’m one hundred percent confident that you’ll figure out your life and make yourself proud.”

  His confidence in her might be misplaced, but it was like being given a boost over a wall that had seemed insurmountable. She’d caught the worried glances her parents exchanged on a daily basis. They loved her and would support her, but they feared for her future.

  Her laugh was choked by rising tears. “Is this how you got your men to walk into danger? Because I have to admit, you’re motivating.”

  She sensed the change in atmosphere around him like a barometric drop signaling a storm front. He spoke in a low voice. “I never sent a grunt into danger with a pep talk.”

  She swallowed, cursing herself. Her teasing had scratched open a wound she couldn’t heal with a trite platitude or even mind-blowing sex. It ran deep and was a trauma he’d have to tend to and heal himself—like she had to blaze a new future for herself—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t pass him some bandages.

  “I’m sorry. That wasn’t something to joke about.” She stroked the back of her hand down his face. “You received the Silver Star for your bravery.”

  “I didn’t deserve it,” he said softly.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The bomb went off and I just lay there.” His voice was barely audible now.

  “You were gravely injured. In shock.”

  “If I’d been faster with a tourniquet, my sergeant might have made it. Even a few seconds might have saved his life.”

  She searched for words of wisdom but none appeared. All she could cobble together were useless words of comfort, which she murmured in his ear while stroking his hair and hugging him close.

  Finally she said, “Fate controls all of our lives with a few seconds. A few seconds faster or slower and maybe you could have avoided a car wreck. A few seconds is all it takes to miss your train or bus and get you fired for being late to work. A few seconds can save a life or take one. You did everything you were capable of doing in those few seconds.”

  His long sigh seemed to whisper his disagreement. Nothing she said or did would convince him he was blameless. It would have to be a conclusion he reached after wrestling with the whys and wherefores over the course of months or years or decades. All she could do was hold him tighter.

  Eventually, their conversation veered to more mundane topics. High school memories, funny stories from her time in Nashville and his time in the service, books and movies.

  Her phone flashed a text from the nightstand.

  It was ten and her mom was wondering where she was and when she’d be home. “Speaking of high school, my mom is asking when I’ll be home. I’d better go.”

  “I have a news flash. You’re thirty and allowed to stay out after dark.” He tugged her back down to him.

  She laid half on his chest and kissed him, the newness of the feeling thrilling. “I’m living under their roof and basically dependent on them. I don’t want to thumb my nose at their sensibilities. They would freak out if they knew what we’ve been doing. I’m pretty sure they think I’m still a virgin.”

  Regret and longing entwined. She wanted to spend the night in his bed and wake at dawn to make love to the sound of the world coming alive. The urge revealed parts of her heart she thought slashed and burned, and quickened her hands as they pulled on her clothes. It was too much, too fast.

  “Come to dinner with me tomorrow night,” he said.

  “Emmett.” A warning lowered her voice. “I shouldn’t. Anyway, I have to work at Becky’s tomorrow night. More live music. I can’t pass up the extra tips.”

  “Maybe I’ll stop by.” His tone probed for a sign of welcome.

  She pulled her T-shirt over her head. Was the ground as shaky on his side as it was on hers? “I’d love to see you.”

  “Should I have my mom call your mom and ask if we can have a sleepover?” He wore nothing but a grin. A laugh burst out of her.

  “We’ll see.” She leaned to plant a quick kiss on his mouth, but he wrapped a hand around her nape and deepened it. By the time he released her, she was breathless and rethinking her responsibilities.

  Another text from her mom popped up, breaking the mood. She shuffled toward the front door, only hitting her shin once.

  “Sweet dreams, Greer Hadley.” Emmett’s voice carried from the bedroom before she stepped out the door.

  Sweet or erotic or fearful, her dreams were sure to star Emmett Lawson.


  She sent her mom a text and headed home, taking back roads and letting her mind wander. What did she want to do with the rest of her life? She’d thought every avenue to music had been blocked but she’d only abandoned the main thoroughfare. Teaching was an alternative that would never have occurred to her without her detour through the Music Tree Foundation.

  The times she’d spent there had been challenging and rewarding and frustrating. And surprisingly, she was good at what she did there.

  She parked and tiptoed through the kitchen door.

  “I was getting worried.” The voice came from the shadows of the kitchen table.

  Greer let out a yelp even as her brain registered the rollers her mother slept in every night and the scent of cold cream. She was conservative and old-school and had never understood Greer’s propensity for adventure and oftentimes trouble.

  “Sorry, Mom.” Greer gave her mom a kiss on the cheek and sat next to her, picking up a cookie on the plate between them. “I was hanging out.”

  “With anyone I know?”

  “Emmett Lawson.” The silence was unsettling, and like a teenager lobbing excuses and lies, she babbled. “He adopted a kitten. Did you know he used to play guitar?”

  “Do you think it’s wise to get involved with someone right now?”

  Of course it wasn’t, but when did she ever cave to what was “wise?” Maybe her problem was she didn’t rely on logic but her unreliable feelings.

  “Believe me, I didn’t plan on anything happening.”

  “Greer.” Her mother covered one of her hands and squeezed. “Your life is off track at the moment. I have no doubt you’ll find your footing, but until you do, no good can come from a relationship.”

  “It’s not a relationship. We’re hanging out.” Her heart thumped as if lodging a protest. They’d slept together. Greer was old-fashioned enough to classify that as a relationship.

  “I don’t want to see you get hurt again, honey.”

  “Me neither. I’m figuring things out.” She took another cookie to give herself time and courage. “I might go back to school.”

  Her mom’s lips parted on a sharp intake of breath. “For nursing?”