Chapter 12 Ryan
RYAN
The door squeaks open, and Hudson’s voice booms into the room.
“Morning!”
I remain staring at the ceiling. He didn’t even knock, but I can’t be fucked to point that out. I close my eyes tight, hoping he’ll go away. A moment later, I hear him in the kitchen and a tap running. Then he’s by the bed.
“Meds.”
I sit up enough to take the pill bottle from him. I shake two into my hand, then a third for good measure.
“Hey.” Hudson snatches the third pill before I can lift it to my mouth. “Two at a time.”
“Who are you, the pill police?” I grumble.
“A concerned friend.” He slips the pill back into the bottle and sets it on the kitchen counter.
“More like a pain in the ass.”
Hudson chuckles. “I can see you’re feeling better, then?”
“I’m fine,” I grit out, wishing he’d leave me alone. My stump hurts, I’m stuck in bed, and all I want is for this pain to ease.
Hudson grins. “Good, because we’re going to see Joel. He’s got work for you.”
“Work?” I bark, scowling. “What work could I possibly do?”
Hudson raises an eyebrow. “Last I checked, you still had two hands and your brain, as long as it’s not too muddled with painkillers. You were the best engineer on the team. There’s a bunch of stuff Joel needs fixing.”
I groan. I really don’t want to get out of bed today—not that I ever do. “There must be someone else.”
“Nope. Part of the deal to get you here was that you’d help out. No one gets a free ride at Jake’s Retreat.”
“Then why’s it called a retreat,” I mutter.
“Stop complaining, and get your ass out of bed. Or do I have to tip it up like they did at BUD/s?”
The reference to our training makes me wince. I’m far from the young, capable man who endured the toughest training on this earth to make it into the SEALs.
“Tip it up.”
Hudson slides his hands under the bed, and the mattress lifts. My leg jerks with the promise of pain.
“Whoa. Okay. I’m getting up. I didn’t think you’d really do it.”
I swing my leg over and slide off the bed, and Hudson thankfully doesn’t look at the stump, wrapped in bandages.
He steadies the wheelchair next to the bed. “You got me through BUD/s; I’ll get you through this.”
I almost admire his determination, but he hasn’t gotten it yet. There is no getting through this. I’ve lost the only thing I was good at—being a SEAL. What else is there for me?
But he looks so damn pleased that I’m sitting up that I don’t want to ruin his good mood. Not today, anyway.
I pull myself into the wheelchair and glance up at Hudson. He watches me with his arms folded across his chest.
“Well, come on then. Let’s go.”
He wrinkles his nose. “Dude, no offense, but you stink. When’s the last time you showered?”
My gaze shifts to the open door leading to the bathroom. There’s a rail and stool set up in the shower. At Louisville, the nurse helped me shower. He was a large, rough dude who scrubbed me with professional efficiency as he chatted about the latest baseball game.
Moving to this facility was supposed to signal my independence, but I haven’t been in the shower since I arrived three days ago.
I shrug, not wanting to admit that to Hudson.
“Go on, then.” He indicates the bathroom with a jerk of his head. “Don’t make me come in there and scrub your balls for you.”
I roll the chair into the bathroom, close the door, and let out a long sigh. The sooner I shower and take this jaunt with Hudson, the sooner he’ll leave me alone.
It takes longer than I’d like to haul myself onto the seat the way the nurse showed me. My upper body wasn’t damaged in the explosion, but the washcloth feels heavy, and by the time I’ve washed myself down, I’m panting.
I left my clothes in the other room, so I wheel myself out to find Hudson sitting in the chair by the door. He’s scrolling through his phone like he’s got all the time in the world to wait for his sorry-ass friend who can barely dress himself.
“Feel better?” he asks.
The meds have kicked in, bathing me in a soft haze and taking the edge off reality. I do feel better, but I don’t want to tell him that. Instead, I grunt.
Getting dressed is awkward, and by the time I get my pants on, I’m sweating and in need of another shower.
The fabric rubs against the stump, but it keeps the stump covered.
I’m not going out with my stump visible.
No one wants to see that shit. I lean back in the chair, panting, and Hudson glances up at me.
He could come over and give me a hand, but he doesn’t, and I don’t know whether I hate or appreciate him for that. Instead, I struggle into a t-shirt.
Finally, I’m ready.
Hudson stands up and pockets his phone. “Let’s go.”
It’s the first time I’ve left my room since arriving at Jake’s Retreat.
The veterans center was set up in honor of Jake, a local SEAL who didn’t make it back.
Joel, a retired SEAL commander, runs the place, and Hudson helps out.
It’s not officially open yet, and all the buildings look shiny and new.
The paths are wide with gentle gradients, but even so, I’m sweating with the exertion of pushing the chair. Weeks lying in a bed have softened my muscles, the injury making me useless in more ways than one.
We pass a slick building with tinted windows and fresh paint
“The gym’s in there,” Hudson says. “They’ve got adapted equipment, which you’d know if you went to your therapy sessions.”
I’ve missed them for the past few days, but I get the feeling that’s about to end.
“You’re booked in after lunch, and I told the physio I’d personally deliver you myself.”
“I’m not going.” I’d rather crawl back to bed than have some stranger frown over my missing leg.
“Doctors orders, I’m afraid, or you risk losing your veteran’s insurance.”
“Good. You might leave me alone.” It’s hard to care about anything, let alone insurance, right now. All I can think about is getting from one med dose to another.
Hudson grins, misinterpreting it as a joke. “Never.”
The path leaves the main building behind and comes to a courtyard.
There’s a fountain in the middle that we circle before taking another path that leads to more buildings.
The path is lined with bushy plants, and I catch the smells of lavender and rosemary.
I breathe in deeply and am reminded of my mother.
The pang of grief is dulled by three years and my meds, and it’s a nice memory, thinking about the herb garden she carefully tended.
“The gardens are nice.”
Hudson turns to me with a proud grin. “My sister’s work. She designed and planted them.”
The path passes more buildings, and Hudson points out a communal kitchen, a rec room, a pool, and a yoga studio. They’ve really thought of everything here.
A man in orange overalls hammers in a fence post that separates the buildings from a field.
“They’re still finishing off the last bits.” Hudson stops, and I follow his gaze. There’s a group of men and women standing around a pile of wood.
He frowns. “Joel thought it would be a good idea to get the community involved.”
“Sounds like Joel.”
“Yeah, we’ve got minor offenders from all over the county working off their community service hours.”
From the tone of his voice, he clearly doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but I just shrug and keep rolling. How Joel builds his center is none of my concern.
We pass the last of the buildings and come to a series of outbuildings. They look like converted stables with a fresh coat of white paint over the brick walls.
“The repairs shed is in here.”
We’re about to roll through the door when a figure comes out of one of the other buildings. She’s holding a tablet in her hand and frowns at it as she walks.
“Paige,” Hudson calls, “I didn’t know you were working here today.”
Her blonde hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and as she lifts her head, my heart jolts. She smiles at Hudson, and it’s the same smile that’s haunted my dreams for the past three years.
My heart races in my chest. For three years, I’ve thought about the woman I spent one incredible weekend with.
I tried to track her down, but I had no leads.
The hotel wouldn’t give out any information.
I combed over every detail of our conversation looking for clues, but Rose didn’t leave me any crumbs.
“I’ve got three tons of sand arriving today for the Zen garden.”
Any moment now, her gaze will fall on me. My skin heats as I’m transported back to the best weekend of my life. Her body molded against mine, moving in sync, the way she cried out with wild animal noises, and the way I held her in my arms.
I was strong then, and now I’m broken, far from the man I was. I don’t want her to see me like this.
I grab my wheels and try to backpedal, but the path is too small to turn around with Hudson next to me. Instead, I ram into his leg, and he shoots me a look.
“Hey, bro, careful how you drive that thing.”
There’s an intake of breath, and I know without looking that she’s recognized me.
Hudson puts a hand on my shoulder. “Ryan, this is my sister Paige.”
Paige. The name I’ve searched for reverberates through my head and heart, followed by a second thought as my drug-addled brain catches up.
“Your sister.” I blurt out the words before I can stop myself, and my gaze jerks upwards.
Rose, or Paige, is staring at me, her mouth popped open in shock.
Hudson looks between us. “You two know each other?”
“No,” I blurt out at the same time as she says, “Yes.”
“We met once,” she says hastily, recovering herself.
“A long time ago,” I mutter.
“Can you check this and tell me I’m not misreading it?” Paige holds out the tablet to Hudson, and I’m thankful at least one of us is thinking straight. I need time to gather my thoughts, and the last thing I want Hudson to know is what I did with his little sister.
My stomach twists at my stupidity for not making the connection.
Her mother had just died three years ago, and when I got to the overseas base, Hudson was on leave because his mother had passed.
I should have made the connection, but I was too busy remembering every detail about Rose’s body to think straight.
I study Paige as she speaks with her brother. Her hair is longer, the pixie cut gone, and there are smudges under her eyes. Her body has filled out with soft curves that look good on her.
She wears cut-off shorts that show thick, strong thighs and a black band t-shirt.
I don’t know if she’s thought about me as much as I have her over the past three years. I wonder if she’s thought about me at all.
A child’s laughter comes from the shed she walked out of, and a moment later, a toddler rushes out giggling, his dark curls falling around his chubby face. He’s chased by a woman I don’t recognize, who must be his mother.
But instead, the boy runs to Paige and tugs at her leg. “Momma, up.”
Paige’s gaze sweeps to mine with an unreadable expression. “You want to come up?” she asks the boy.
Hudson takes the tablet while she scoops the child into her arms with a fluidity that demonstrates she’s done this a hundred times before.
The child buries his face in Paige’s shoulder, giggling as the other woman pretends to tickle him.
Hudson introduces me to the woman as Avery, but I barely catch her name. I’m too busy processing. All that’s running through my mind is that Rose has a child. She’s moved on. Of course she has. We were a fun weekend in a hotel room. She’s obviously with someone now, and they have a child.
Three years of hope is crushed as I watch her kiss the boy’s chubby hand and release him to the tickly monster.
My world caves in, and the hollowness inside gnaws away at whatever fragments of hope I had left.
I turn away, not caring that it takes an age to maneuver my chair.
“Hey, where you going?” Hudson jogs after me, but I keep wheeling. I don’t say a word. Finally, when I’m back in my room alone, I take two more pills and heave myself onto my bed, waiting for the sweet oblivion of sleep.