Chapter 2
Chapter Two
MACK
I can’t move.
Traction holds my body motionless. My mind, however, is not as blessed. Almost two weeks to the day, and the last thing I said to my spotter still runs on repeat through my head.
“Calm down, Daisy, it’s probably backup comin’.”
Liam Arnold Butler—Butters, we call him.
Called him.
My last words to him cost him time and, ultimately, his life.
I grind my jaw shut, pressing the thought—no, the memory—down. Happy smiles and cheeky pranks on base are what I will remember. Not the limp, lifeless version of him rescue pulled from the rubble of three stories’ worth of stone.
A sigh drifts up from the visitor’s chair by my bed. The early morning sunlight splinters through the white blinds covering the wide windows of my very pale, very clinical hospital room. Ma moves in her sleep. Her hair mussed, her shirt crinkled.
“You’re awake. Mornin’.”
Pa waltzes in with two coffees like he’s walking into a party. I’m pretty sure my family has a rotation. I haven’t had a day to myself since being admitted to this place. They take it in three- day stints. This is my folks’ last day. Huddo and Adds will most likely be here by noon to take the next allotment of days.
I love my family, I really do. But right now, all this fussin’ and pity is sending me crazy. And I’m the last guy on the planet to deserve it.
“What’s with the scowl, Mackie-boy?”
My gaze darts to the door at the sound of my big brother’s voice.
Lawson.
“Hey, Laws.”
“Well.” He wanders to my bedside, coffee in hand like the parentals. “You most definitely put some effort into getting outta the chores, didn’t you.”
“Fuck off, Laws.”
“Language, Mackinlay,” Ma mutters. A sad smile stretches her lips.
“You seen Reed yet?” Laws asks.
“The first face I saw.”
Laws chuckles and Ma stands, stretching her back. “I’m going to grab some fresh air. Come for a walk, my love?” Ma says to Harry.
“Absolutely, this place is depressing.” He winks as they pad from the room.
Laws sinks into Ma’s chair. “How you really holding up, Mack?”
“I can’t move an inch, and you have no idea how itchy all this shit is.”
“Mack . . .”
“I’m fine. I’m alive, ain’t I?”
“True, but sometimes that feels worse. Especially whe?—”
“I know what you’re goin’ to say. I’m aware of the survivor’s guilt, stages of grief, all that shit. I’m fine. Countin’ my blessings, one rigid limb at a time.”
“Well, at least you won’t be alone.” He sips his coffee and crosses a leg over his opposite knee, ankle resting on it. “How long ’til you get out?”
“Casts are off in two weeks, then I have to wear supports and such. Mobility will be an issue, they tell me. Will need to have an assessment by the physio before I’m discharged.”
“Sounds like you have it all worked out.”
“Yeah, this is totally on my life plan, Laws.” I stare at the window.
Honorable medical discharge.
Which means my only option now is ranching. If I can even get back on a horse. As well as cope with the physical demands of ranch work. For now, everything is up in the air, along with my damn feet.
A soft knock raps on the door. Last night’s doctor stands over the threshold. “How are we feeling this morning?”
“Same as last time I saw you, doc. Hanging around, tryin’ to ignore the pain.”
She makes her way to my bed. If I wasn’t strung up like an invalid and hopped up on painkillers, I would have asked her out. She’s my type. Brunette with a kind face. A gentle disposition and eyes that tell you there is way more to this girl than you get from her with just a conversation. Lawson stands, and I jerk at the movement.
For a second, I forgot I’m not alone. At this rate, my family is never going to let me out of their sight ever again.
Fuckin’ fantastic.
She runs her hands over my torso, checking each bandage for seepage. “How’s the pain today?”
“Manageable.”
“No, not manageable, Mackinlay, we want as little as possible to aid with recovery. The less pain you have, the more your body can focus on healing.”
“Sure. If you say so.”
“I do.” She offers a soft smile.
Lawson’s gaze swings between me and her. Forget it, brother, not happening.
“When do you think we can take our patched-up soldier home?” Lawson asks.
“Well, if all goes to plan, and he can weight bear when the traction comes off, and makes it through his physio assessment... I think about three weeks, give or take a day or two.”
“What will physio be looking for?” I ask.
“They will assess your muscle and motor capacity, and then give you exercises and figure out how long your support devices will be in use.”
“Like a brace or something?” Laws asks.
“Yes, exactly. He will have a brace for the shoulder injury, a moon boot for the lower leg and ankle. I will be suggesting to them that you also have a support for your left hip and lower back. That should take care of keeping you aligned while you heal and regain muscle strength.”
“Oh, that all.” I close my eyes. So, I’m about to be bundled up like an Eskimo. Fuckin’ awesome.
As if he reads my mind, Lawson shoves my shoulder—the good one—and says, “Still alive, little bro, focus on that.”
“Yeah, how could I not?”
The minuscule sliver of joy I found having Laws here drains away as I remember I’m still breathing, still here.
Butters is not.
“Goddamn it, Laws, shit!” I stagger to the side. The foot of my crutch is stuck in a gap in the boards of my front porch. Fire streaks through my hip, and I slam my molars together to stifle the groan that rises with it. Lawson’s hand squeezes around my bicep, holding me steady as I find my feet. I wasn’t this useless at the rehab center of the hospital, but a four-hour flight and two-hour drive has all but seized up my body.
Porch – 1
Mack – 0
Jesus, I hate this.
Reed and Ruby walk inside, carrying the load of bags from the hospital and the one from base that the Sarge sent stateside after everything went to shit. Ruby chatters away, taking to tidying up the already spotless house. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she’s stress cleaning.
I do, and she is.
Gotta love her for that.
Adds has Huddo fixing a railing on the internal stairs. The parentals are stocking the fridge as we make our slow entrance into the ranch house I’ve called home for over a year now. The huge farmhouse always felt too big for one person. Right now, it’s full and loud.
All I want is to be left to my misery.
I wish they would let me wallow in peace.
“You’re stocked up with hot dishes and fruit, snacks, and some frozen meals, including soup,” Ma says as Laws guides me onto my own sofa like a carer does for their elderly patient.
“Your live-in nurse will be here tomorrow. That’s the earliest we could arrange one. They are hard to find in these parts. So, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me tonight, Mackie-boy.” Lawson’s face is all kindness and understanding, but I hate it when he calls me that.
I suppress a grunt as I bend and meet the soft seat. Reed appears in front of me and squats like you would to talk to a little kid with a scraped knee. “Anything you need?”
“Nah, I’m good, gunny.”
His face wrecks before me briefly, and he schools it back. “Sure, holler if that changes, okay?”
Swallowing, he rises and stands. I breathe through the burn behind my eyes and tighten my grip on the crutches I still cling to. Ruby melts into his side, sliding her hand into his. Reads that man like a book, she does. He swallows, pushing a small smile up for her.
“Help me with the linen, will you, Reedsy?” she says.
When she drags him from my orbit, I release a heavy sigh. I could cope a lot better with all this if I could nix all the pity company. They mean well, and I love them for it. Except, I can’t breathe with the smothering gestures and sympathetic looks. Hell, the look on my little brother’s face almost brought me to tears.
There’s been enough fuckin’ crying.
Ma crying that I got hurt.
Then again when I was discharged.
Adds and Rubes held it together, mostly. I know they were upset. And Reed. The thought that I could have caused one of his anxiety attacks twists my own gut into knots.
Laying my head on the back of the sofa, I listen to the puttering of the well-meaning people in my house. Harry is talking in hushed words to Ma in the kitchen, something about meals and burning my hands.
“. . . you know he can’t . . .” Ma trails off.
Light steps.
“There is spare linen in both bedrooms, if anything needs changing during the night,” Ruby says to Ma.
Boots march through the house. The front door opens and closes, and Huddo’s muffled curse words settle over the patio outside. With a crack and some hammering, I can tell the old board is up and a new one is in its place.
A castle fit for a cripple.
Grinding my molars for the umpteenth time today, I pinch the bridge of my nose as Addy explains to Laws my physio and medication regimes for the third time.
Tension coils low in my gut. For fuck’s sake, he was there when the medical staff ran the entire family through it, Adds. We got it, already. Laws is only here for one night. The information is in the discharge summary for the nurse. Why is everyone acting like overbearing helicopter parents?
“Don’t forget the pain meds, twenty minutes before he starts, to minimize the pain and maximize his workout-slash-physio sessions, okay?” she insists.
Fire tightens my chest, and I push up too fast on wobbly feet. The crutches clatter as I try to pull them to my sides. “Enough!”
The room falls silent.
Ma’s shock-widened eyes find mine. I slide my heated stare to Addy. “We get it, Adds. But you’re done.” I wave my hands at my family, whose faces are a mix of hurt and empathy. “You’re all done! I can manage by myself. I don’t need a goddamn daycare routine.” I shift my gaze to Laws. “Or a fuckin’ babysitter.”
Adjusting the crutches with a harsh grip, I hobble through the front door to find a fuming Hudson. Yelling at his wife wasn’t my finest hour. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever had one of those. He crosses his arms over his chest, his hot gaze and drawn brows following me as I stagger over the porch and down the stairs. My knuckles turn white on the rail as I make a dubious descent.
“Mackinlay, come back... please.” Ma’s voice is all beg.
I don’t want to respond.
A stone explodes in my throat, lodging tight.
I can’t respond.
I hit solid ground with both feet, somewhat steady, and head for the barn. Dizziness creeps in around me like an unwelcome blanket. Like hell I’m goin’ back inside. Not until the welcome home wagon leaves this ranch in the dust.
Harry’s soft words to Ma fade as I stalk awkwardly into the barn. The large space is one side of stalls, the other, rows and rows of hay. A small tack room sits in the back corner, and I head for it, like a man desperate for refuge in the worst storm.
Out of breath and hating every fiber of my being, I slump against the wall inside the darkened room. Groaning, I slide down the old wood and onto a pile of saddle blankets. The musty scent of horse and hay folds in around me.
Quiet seeps into my ears at an alarming rate. The sounds of the last few moments on that roof burst through the white noise.
It’s then I realize, I made it home.
But I never made it out.