Who would come prowling around in the dark?
I clutch my chest, thinking about all the people I’ve pissed off in this town. The list is long, and Rowena Evans is at the top of it. But she lives down the road; she wouldn’t be speeding off in a car.
The cool night air makes me shiver, and I wrap my arms around myself. I’m in nothing but an oversized t-shirt that barely covers my underwear with a baseball bat.
Inside, I put the chain across the door and check on Noah. He’s rolled onto his side and is still sleeping soundly. I check the back door and every window in the house to make sure they’re secure. Then I drag my comforter into Noah’s room and fold myself into the armchair by his bed.
I pull the comforter around me, but I already know I won’t sleep. My heart pounds in my chest, and my hand trembles as I hold my phone.
My hand hovers over Ryan’s number. I long to hear his voice, if only to calm me down. I wish I’d agreed to have him here. I could have found a makeshift ramp from somewhere.
There’s no point in calling Hudson. He’s out of town on a job, and he’ll only worry about me.
I could call Avery, but she’s dealing with her own difficult pregnancy, and the last thing she needs is any stress.
Dropping my phone by the chair, my gaze goes to Noah. His mouth is dropped open, and his chest rises rhythmically in the sleep of the innocent.
“Just you and me, buddy,” I whisper. But for the first time, it sounds hollow.
23
RYAN
Morning light peeks in through the curtains. I’ve been awake for hours thinking about Paige and wondering if I’ll ever be the man she and Noah need.
But I’m done feeling sorry for myself. I’m a motherfucking SEAL, and I don’t give up easily.
I haul myself to a sitting position and shift so I’m sitting sideways on the bed with my good leg dangling over the side. The prosthetic is propped in the corner, gathering dust where I left it when I arrived here almost two weeks ago.
Yesterday, Paige shook me up with the harsh truth. If I stay in the wheelchair, there are a lot of places I can’t access. It’s time to start wearing the prosthetic.
After dragging myself into the wheelchair, I roll over to the hunk of silicone, fiberglass, and plastic that is my new leg.
I’ve tried it on a few times back in Louisville, and it’s custom made to match my remaining leg, with a shapely calf and a foot that’s the mirror image of my other foot.
My stump slips into it, and I grit my teeth as it jolts into place. Using the kitchen counter for balance, I ease my weight onto the leg.
A spike of pain fires through me, and I grip the side of the counter and breathe through it. I push myself fully up to a standing position and release the counter, putting all my weight on the leg.
My stump settles into position, and the pain subsides to a background ache. I refuse to take any more painkillers, so I set my jaw and push the ache down.
Pain I can handle. Leaving my woman and child exposed is not an option.
Tentatively, I take a step forward and almost fall over. I grip the kitchen counter for support and try again. The leg moves differently than my regular one; it’s not as heavy, and the fake joints are slower to react.
I should be doing this with Savanna in the gym with the guide rails for support. But my next appointment isn’t until tomorrow, and I don’t want to wait that long. I’ve been told it takes a few weeks to get used to walking on a prosthetic, and I’ve got a few hours. But I didn’t make it as a SEAL for nothing.
I set my jaw in determination and do a round of the kitchen, leaning on the counter for support. Once I’ve got a better handle on the movement and balance, I let go of the counter and walk to the bed. I’m slow, and the effort makes me sweat, but I manage a circuit of the room without stumbling.
“I can do this,” I mutter.
The stump throbs, but I push on, doing another circuit and then another. Each time, my gait comes more naturally, and my speed increases.
The effort is exhausting, and I flop down on the bed for a breather. I stare at the ceiling with a grin on my face. I’m fucking walking again. It’s time to take this outside and see what I can do.
An hour later, after a rest and refuel, I take my new leg for a spin outside. The main hub is only 300 feet away, but it takes me ten minutes to get there.
Paige is on site most mornings, but first, I need to see Joel.
