I couldn’t take this.
I needed out.
“…your leg. Heath. Tell me about it.”
I blinked, my chest still too tight, but I realized Creek was now sitting cross-legged in front of me, holding my chin in a firm, not-quite-kind grip. “What?” I croaked.
“Why aren’t you wearing your leg?” he repeated.
“Oh. Uh.” Wasn’t I? I stared down at my sock-covered stump, and reality began to filter in through the fog. Breathing became just a little easier. “I have a sore. I came in today to see if I need surgery.”
“Do you?” he asked.
I ran my fingers over the tender end of my leg and shook my head. “Socket needs to be adjusted.” I bit my lip and didn’t look up. “I was afraid I was going to lose more of it. Not as afraid as I am now.”
“We’re in an elevator waiting for someone to fix it,” he said dryly. I realized then his fingers had left my chin, and I missed them, which was completely outrageous. “And you’re more worried about that than your leg?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t say it was rational, but phobias aren’t, so I have some excuse.”
He hummed, and for a moment, I thought he might get up, which was the last thing I wanted, but he stayed put.
“Uh. So. Where wereyoucoming from?”
He stared at me, and I thought he wasn’t going to answer. Or maybe he’d tell me to go fuck myself. Then he glanced away and grunted, “Made a dentist appointment.”
“Oh. Sweet. Mine’s over on Polk and Ellis—right by the T-Mobile,” I rambled. I was starting to feel kind of shaky, which I knew was from all the adrenaline, and when that happened, I babbled. “I love my dentist, but I hate her building because there’s never any goddamn parking, and the hill sucks. Especially now with my damn leg. And there’s a Tesla dealership around the corner, so I always run into those prestigious douchebags…”
“I drive a Tesla,” he interrupted.
My eyes widened. “Shut up.”
“No. I love Tesla. I watched the launch when one of them was sent to space.”
My world shifted. Who the fuck even was this man? “Are you…are you serious?”
He either was, or his poker face was amazing. Then he let out a suspicious-sounding cough and covered his mouth, and I knew. Without thinking, I reached forward to slap him, but his very quick, very clever, Army-trained reflexes had him grabbing my wrist.
Our gazes locked.
“You’re a lying asshole.”
He didn’t let go, and he gave me an unrepentant, smartass grin. “And you’re a gullible…”
He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. The elevator gave another lurch, and suddenly, we were moving. Creek’s hands moved off me, almost like my skin was made of hot coals, and I was left sitting on my ass, staring up at him as he wedged himself into the corner.
“Thanks for the help up,” I muttered sarcastically, the mood between us shifting as the elevator came to a slower stop.
“I thought you were way ahead of me in recovery,” he shot back. “And I’ve been able to lift my ass off the floor by myself for months now.”
“You know what,” I started, but then the doors slid open, and the next thing I knew, I was sitting there on my ass, alone, with my heart beating fast and the searing echo of his fingers against my skin.
CHAPTER NINE
CREEK
There were two categories of people when it came to their opinions on being in the military and especially being in the Army. The first were the ones who thought it was all super exciting, that as a soldier, your whole life consisted of one big adventure and you constantly lived in a high-adrenaline rush. The other ones thought it was boring, nothing but an endless routine of meaningless tasks and drills.
The truth was somewhere in the middle. The sixteen years I spent in the Army consisted of a hell of a lot of monotonous routine, with some super scary moments in between. What people didn’t seem to get was that boring was good. In the military, boring meant safe. Doing stupid routine stuff meant no one was gonna get killed, and, color me crazy, but any zero-casualties day was a stellar one in my book.
