Come Undone

by AJ Matthews

  I roll my chair closer to where she stands.

  She chews her lip, her forehead wrinkled, her hand still on the doorknob leading to the main office.

  I think she wants to escape, almost as much as I do.

  But I’m stuck here for another 45 minutes. Either wait it out inside, or head back out and sweat to death.

  Might as well try to have some fun while I’m here. I haven’t been out much, by choice, and while I try to deny it to my parents, I miss socializing with my old friends.

  Not that any of them have anything to say to me. When Joe, my best high school friend and former football team co-captain came to visit, he looked uncomfortable, shifting in the chair next to the couch I was on, his gaze darting around, from me to the front door, before making up an excuse about being late for work and bolting before I could barely say goodbye.

  Bennie wants to bolt, too, but her discomfort is harder to read. Is it my appearance? I stroke my hand across the rough beard I’ve been too lazy to shave off these last few weeks. I’m a bum compared to the last time we saw each other.

  My dark blue sweatpants are tucked under the stump of my leg, and for once I wish I’d had the wherewithal to actually shave and put on some clean, flattering clothes.

  Well, as flattering as clothes can be on someone with only half of his left leg.

  Still, if you’re going to be missing part of your leg, you should at least try to appear decent if your therapist is the last girl you had sex with before the thing was blown off.

  I may look like crap, but damn, she’s hot even in her scrubs.

  They can’t hide the curve of her hips, which reminds me of when I had my hands on her flesh, working myself in and out of her as she leaned over the bolted-down table on one of my Da’s boats.

  My cock springs to attention, and I drop my hands to my lap to hide the hard-on.

  She folds her arms across her chest. “Liam. How are you?”

  Her narrowed eyes scan me from head to toe, taking in my shaggy hair, scruffy beard, and of course, the lack of leg. I do the same to her.

  Her hair is longer. The last time I saw her, it was shorter.

  “You look different.” I play with my own hair to indicate the change in hers.

  Her eyes narrow. She nods at my leg. “Yeah. You too.”

  My arms and neck tense. Most people try to avoid mentioning, or even looking at, the amputation. I hate that, because, yeah it happened and it’s what I am now.

  A crazy, one-legged bum.

  But her noticing, even saying something about it, pisses me off. I don’t know why.

  “You still have a smart mouth.”

  “You didn’t have a problem with my mouth the last time I saw you.” She puckers her lips and pulls her arms tighter across her chest.

  “You were doing something a little more productive than talking. Talking was the last thing on your mind, if I recall. You kept your mouth pretty full.” I move my arms and wave my hands at my tented sweatpants. So much for modesty.

  Her gaze falls to my crotch and she swallows audibly as her eyes widen. I’d like to think it’s because she’s remembering how fucking amazing the sex was on New Year’s Eve. But it’s more likely she’s repulsed by the idea of ever having sex with me again.

  I get it. Nobody wants the freak.

  And I’ll probably never have sex again, let alone with someone as hot as this aggravating pain-in-the ass glaring down at me.

  She throws her hands up in the air. “This isn’t going to work. I can’t fucking stand you. I guess my uncle thought it would be a good match, you know, because of Thea and Shay, but seriously? He doesn’t realize we don’t get along. If he did, I’d believe he’s trying to make me fail!”

  I have no idea what that means, but I resent the idea that she’s refusing to work with me. What the hell? Like I want to work with her? Like I asked for this?

  “What do you mean, he’s trying to make you fail?”

  She drops her arms and sighs. “Nothing. It means nothing. Let’s get started.”

  She walks to the desk at the back of the gym, and scans the desk. “I . . . I don’t have your chart. Can you hold on a sec?”

  I nod, and she bolts through the door and rushes back in less than a minute.

  She sits in the chair behind the desk and I pull my chair up next to it. Probably closer than I need to be to her. Damn, she smells good. I resist the urge to draw even closer.

  She peruses my chart, reading some handwritten notes, and looks up at me, a pained smile on her face. “Liam, I—I’m really sorry. About what happened to you.”

  Her words kick me in the balls. I thought I was done hearing people feel sorry for me, since I don’t leave the house anymore, and no one visits. I wasn’t expecting this. It sucks ass that people won’t stop saying they’re sorry. They didn’t do anything. It takes me a minute, but I wave off her comment. “Really, don’t feel sorry. You didn’t do anything.”

  Her face softens. “But I want to help. Since you haven’t been walking, I think we should start back at the beginning of your training program the VA therapist worked on with you. I’ll verify with Dr. Garcia . . .”

  “Your uncle right? Don’t bother. I told him. I told my parents. What’s the use of me getting up out of this chair? Why can’t I just stay here? I can live my life from here just as easily as from an upright position.”

  Bennie’s spine goes ramrod straight and her mouth tightens. “What do you mean you don’t want to walk? That doesn’t make any sense. You could lead a perfectly . . .”

  I hold up my hand to stop her. I’ve heard it all before. “A perfectly normal life. Yeah, normal. What the fuck is that? Tripping and limping and stumbling. Then instead of people feeling sorry for the wounded vet, they’ll think I’m some kind of drunken loser or something. And my parents spent some cash on getting the house rehabbed for me and my chair. Might as well get some use out of it.”

  Her face turns about ten different shades of red and purple. I sit up straight, ready to defend my choice about my own life. “Was it something I said? You look like you want to spit on me.”

  “I—I can’t believe this. You don’t want help? You don’t want to walk? Why did you even bother coming today then? Why not just cancel the appointment and let me go on with my day?”

  “One.” I hold up a finger. “If I’d known it would be you here I would have. Two, my da and mom insisted I at least talk to the therapist. So here I am talking. To you. Three, Da dropped me off in the parking lot with no way to get home till my uncle picks me up.”

  On cue, the door chimes and Paddy walks in, waving from the door as he sits on the ledge by the window.

  “He’s here.” She stands up and crosses her arms across her high, firm breasts. I remember the feel of her tight nipple in my mouth and a jolt of pain—the good kind—shoots to my crotch. The sweet sensation only last a moment, until I remember that Bennie, and probably no other woman, will want to have sex with me again.

  Thank God I won’t see her again after today. At least not until the wedding, which is still two years away.

  I back my chair away from her desk as I raise my hand. “Bye. It was, uh, nice seeing you, but I won’t be back. Which I’m sure is just fine with you.”

  Before I turn, I swear I see a hint of hurt in her eyes. But this is Bennie we’re talking about. No friend of mine. Why would she give a shit? It’s exactly what she wants, right? To never deal with me again?

  Paddy stands up, scowling. “What are ye doing?”

  “Not coming back, that’s what I’m doing.”

  I roll myself through the open door and out to the parking lot as Paddy mutters, “Don’t be breaking yer shin on a stool that’s not in yer way, boy.”

  I’ve heard that one before. I spin around quickly, having gotten pretty good at maneuvering this thing. I throw open my arms and spit out, “I’m not creating my own problems. They were created by someone else.”

  Meaning the asshole
who decided to make my next-to-last day in Afghanistan the worst day of my life. That’s what happens when your vehicle gets hit with an IED set by an unknown enemy.

  That guy took away my leg. But I’m not letting anyone take away my free will to live the way I want. Not my parents, not my doctors, and especially not Bennie Garcia.

  No matter how fucking hot she is.

  Acknowledgements

  This book was especially close to my heart, and at times draining and heartbreaking to write. I wrote the love story I would want my son to have some day, and I have so many people to thank for helping me make it beautiful.

  Holly: This book is so much better for your two passes. You always make sure my work is the best it can be, while never trying to change my voice.

  Nancy: Thank you for going above and beyond proofreading and making last-minute suggestions that tightened the story even more!

  Brenna and Brenda: Thanks for catching those little flubs I just couldn’t see after re-reading the book for the millionth time. You have great eyes (and you’re both so pretty!)

  Mom: My deepest appreciation for helping out with the little ones so I could write. This wouldn’t be possible without those long Sunday hours.

  And finally, to my Heathers. Thanks for reading Come Undone and offering suggestions and supporting me in a way that only other people crazed enough to be writers can. So happy to be in this asylum with you!

  About the Author

  AJ Matthews wrote her first book at the age of six, a retelling of The Three Little Pigs. Illustrated by her grandmother, the book was never picked up and was self-published instead, glued to cardboard with a cover fashioned from wallpaper scraps. She’s written a lot in the ensuing years (though not every day,) and majored in English so she could write about books and earn a degree later in life—at the ripe old age of 35. Today, the Maryland native transplanted to central North Carolina pens stories featuring nice guys (or nice guys in-the-making) in between juggling jobs as a technical writer, a referee for two young daughters, and spoiler to a neurotic cat. She’s also a kick-ass autism mom. Special skills include consuming nachos, watching sports, eating an impossible amount of chocolate (this is a daily occurrence,) and making her husband shake his head. This also happens every day.

  Say hello to AJ at www.authorajmatthews.com, www.facebook.com/authorajmatthews, https://twitter.com/AJMatthews_ and www.pinterest.com/authorajmatt, where she shares yummy pics of hot guys, er, photos of research, for all of her planned books.