6. CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SIX
Mark had three additional phantom pain episodes overnight after bouncing around on the ATV. I was able to temporarily relieve them with massages, but they kept returning. By morning, I text Lila and tell her I’ve got to call the VA to work Mark in for an urgent appointment. I drive him to Pueblo mid-morning, having to pull over once to massage his leg from another attack. The doctor takes one look at Mark’s pale, sweaty face and taut jaw and shakes his head.
“I suspect you’ve pinched or agitated a nerve bundle from jostling around on rough terrain.”
“So I’m stuck like this?”
Dr. Patel shakes his head. “A course of steroids and pain medication should do the trick.” Mark frowns, and the doctor raises an eyebrow.
“He doesn’t like pain medication,” I explain, “but if he needs it, I’ll make sure he takes it.”
Mark shoots me a look, but when I give him a pointed glance, he nods reluctantly. “Fine. Just make it stop. I’d almost stopped having phantom pain attacks until yesterday.”
My cell phone rings on the drive back, and I answer it without looking, assuming it’s Lila wanting an update on Mark’s condition. Instead, a deep voice booms over my car’s speakers. “Green Eyes!” bellows the man.
I grin, though he can’t see me. “Stubbs! How are you?”
“Black and beautiful, baby. How are you?”
“You’re on speakerphone. I’m in the car with Mark. We’re driving back from the VA.”
“Pretty Boy! How the hell are you?”
Mark shakes his head at Stubbs’ nicknames for us. “I’ve been better. I had a rough night last night.”
“What happened?”
Mark explains how the bumpy ride on the ATV revved up his phantom pains again while I drive and listen, smiling. Stubbs is Mark’s mentor from the hospital in San Antonio where he spent three months recovering from his IED attack. Stubbs is huge, with rich mahogany skin and a voice like Barry White. He’s easily six-five and built like a tank, and the only thing bigger than his muscles is his personality. The man is a unique blend of Zen and swagger, with a healthy dose of profanity and a sprinkle of wisdom for good measure. He’s a Marine (never use the phrase “former Marine” around him unless you want an earful) who lost both legs in an explosion similar to Mark’s.
The mentorship group at Brooke paired experienced amputees with newbies to help them adjust to their new reality. Stubbs was Mark’s mentor. The first time I met him, I immediately stuck both feet in my mouth. He’d introduced himself as Stubbs, and in my exhausted and shamefully unfiltered state, I’d cocked my head and asked if he was serious. A double amputee whose name was Stubbs seemed appallingly unfair. He’d laughed and asked if I really thought he looked like the sort of fellow who’d tolerate name-calling. Then he’d explained that his name was actually James Mackey, but that he went by Stubbs, “with two B’s for black and beautiful, baby.”
Stubbs has helped both of us deal with the aftermath of Mark’s injuries. He taught Mark what to expect from the perspective of both a patient and someone dealing with the often disability-unfriendly outside world. Stubbs helped me understand Mark’s mindset and how to best support him. We email or call a few times a month and text regularly, and occasionally, we video chat, though not as often. Last time, I was folding laundry with my laptop on the coffee table while we skyped. He caught me off-guard with his sudden wolf whistle when he spotted me folding a pair of lacy black panties. I’d flipped him off and threatened to disconnect the call until he sheepishly apologized.
Stubbs chats with us the entire drive back. We’ve just pulled into my driveway when he clears his throat. “I’m thinking of coming up to Cedar Ridge for a week or so. Would you guys mind showing me around?”
“Not at all,” I exclaim. “You can stay with us.”
“I don’t want to inconvenience you,” he says quickly. “I can stay at a hotel.”
“Don’t be silly. I have a five-bedroom house, and it’s just me and Mark. We’ve got plenty of room. When are you coming up?”
“In August,” he says, “after graduation. I’m rewarding myself for my hard work.” Stubbs is finishing his master’s degree in mental health counseling. He wants to work with vets with PTSD and those struggling to accept their combat injuries.
“Come when you’re ready and stay as long as you want,” I tell him. “If you give me a few days’ notice, I’ll see if I can get a couple extra days off work.”
Mark grins as he slides carefully from the car. “It’ll be good to see him again. I can’t wait to introduce him to Tucker and Lila. They’ve heard so much about him, it’ll be good for them to have a face to put with the stories.”
“He’d be good with some of our newer clients, too. Maybe I can sweet-talk him into meeting with a few people. And I know Tom would love to meet him.”
Mark has one more phantom-pain attack right before bed, but it eases with massage and the pain meds. I wipe his damp forehead with a cool cloth afterwards. “Hopefully, the steroids will start working their magic soon, and you won’t have any more of those.”
“I hope so,” he mutters. “No more ATVs for me.” He catches my guilty expression and tugs my fingers to his lips, kissing them. “Not your fault,” he says firmly. “We didn’t know that would happen. Now we do.”
A very impatient Lila is waiting in my office with coffee and strawberry cream cheese croissant bites when I arrive at work early on Tuesday. Our tell-all chat was postponed because of Mark’s visit to the VA. She pats a spot on the sofa beside her and grins. “Start talking.”
I join her, my face growing warm as I reach for the coffee. Her grin widens. “You’re blushing. This must be good.”
“I’m not sure exactly what to say.”
“Why don’t you begin with when we left,” she suggests. “Did you guys go out to dinner?”
I shake my head. “No. Friday was terrible. I asked if he wanted to go to dinner and he said no. When I asked if he wanted to talk, he stormed into his room and slammed the door.” She gasps. “He got in the shower, and while he was in there, I moved upstairs.” Lila and Tucker understand our non-traditional sleeping arrangement.
“Then what?”
I shrug. “I spent the night holed up in my room, eating pizza and crying. And drinking way too much,” I add. “I woke up with night terrors twice. I spent all day in the woods Saturday, but it didn’t help, and then I got caught in the rain. When I got home, my brain still wouldn’t shut up, so I ran on the treadmill until I seized up with a leg cramp.” My voice softens. “Next thing I knew, he was on the floor, massaging my calf. I don’t know what changed between Friday night and Saturday, but he’d already ordered Italian food so we could talk.”
She smiles. “Tucker said Mark was struggling.”
I nod. “We had dinner and wine. I had a lot of wine,” I admit with a rueful grin. “And then he apologized.”
Her face lights up. “Tell me every word.”
I chuckle at her eagerness and replay our conversation for her. She grins and holds out the pastry box. “Keep talking, and I’ll give you more of these.”
I take a bite of the warm croissant. It’s warm and flaky and sweet and tangy all at once, and I moan at how good it is.
“Less moaning, more talking,” she demands.
I oblige, describing our discussion about discovering our mutual attraction. When I confess my fear, her eyes turn sad. “Charlie, you don’t need to be afraid of Mark. He won’t hurt you.”
I frown. “He thought that’s what I meant, too. I’m not afraid of Mark. I never have been, not even at my worst. I’m scared of losing him. I’m scared I’ll freak out with him, or that it’ll screw up what we have if things don’t work out. I’m just –” I stare down at my lap. “I’m a mess, Lila. I don’t want to ruin the most important relationship in my life.”
“You’re not a mess,” she says. I snort in disbelief, and she seizes my free hand. “You’re not,” she insists. “You’re healing, and you’re making progress. That’s all any of us can do.” She studies me with gentle eyes. “I’ve been where you are, Charlie, exactly where you are. Shattered and scared and crazy about someone, torn between desire and fear, afraid to risk intimacy. I promise you, I understand. I’ve lived it, too.”
Tears fill my eyes. Lila does understand my struggles. She was captured with me and endured similar horrors. “But you were strong enough to move forward,” I whisper.
Lila takes the croissant from my hand, puts it down, and wraps me in a warm hug. “I keep telling you, you’re much stronger than you believe.”
I pull back. “You’re the strong one, Lila. I’m still stuck.”
She shakes her head and gives me a tender smile. “You aren’t stuck. I saw the way you two looked at each other.”
My cheeks grow warm.
“I need more details,” she declares, handing me back my croissant. “So you were talking about being afraid,” she prompts.
I nod. “I told him I was tired of fear controlling my life. He asked what I would want if fear didn’t enter the equation. That’s when I knew. I want more.”
Lila smiles, and I see tears in her eyes. “Oh, Charlie,” she whispers, hugging me again. “You’re not stuck. You’re choosing to move forward.”
I laugh. “Well, kind of.”
“What do you mean?”
“We still aren’t really sure what ‘more’ entails. We don’t want to ‘date’ in case things don’t work out, and sex – well, I know I’m not ready for that." Even though my body seems to feel otherwise. "And I nearly passed out when Mark said he’s not comfortable enough with his body for sex, either.”
She doesn’t look surprised, merely thoughtful. “I think in time, the situation will resolve itself. Did you set any ground rules?”
“We agreed kissing was safe territory. And we left ourselves the option to add more later if we get more comfortable.”
She grins saucily. “And are you comfortable kissing him?”
My face flames, and she chuckles. “It’s intense between you two, isn’t it?”
I can’t speak, so I simply nod.
“Just be careful,” she cautions. “I don’t think Mark is someone you can be casual with for long. You’re already so deeply connected.” Then she grins. “I knew it would be spicy if you guys ever got together. There’s been heat simmering between you two for years. You were the only ones who couldn't see it. It won’t take much for that simmer to become a rolling boil.”
I shake my head. “We’ve already agreed – no romantic entanglements. This is just adding a physical aspect to our relationship.”
Then I think about Mark’s panty-melting kisses.
Lila’s more right about the heat than she knows.
It’s fantastic to finally see Charlie happy again. There’s a light in her eyes I haven’t seen in years. She’s always smiling, humming to herself at work. She’s got it bad. If it were anyone else, I’d vomit from the overload of cuteness. Tom and Tara smile when she’s not looking. She and Mark may not be “dating”, but they’re clearly involved, and she’s falling fast.
“I’m worried Charlie’s falling hard for Mark,” I tell Tucker one evening.
He grins. “It’ll be fine, Lila. They’re soulmates. He’ll fall even harder for her.”
I run a finger down his chest, catching his belt loop and tugging him toward me. “Speaking of harder…”
He winks. “I’d love to, Sweetness, but I can’t. I promised I’d help Joey this evening.”
“You can’t go out tonight,” I protest, reaching for his arm. “Today’s the day. We’re in our peak conception window right now. You can see Joey any time.”
Tucker cocks his head at me. “He’s my brother, Lila. We made plans.”
I bristle. “Cancel them. You knew this was our best window of opportunity.”
Tucker pulls his arm away. “How the hell would I know that?”
“It’s on the calendar in the bedroom, and I put it on the calendar on your phone.”
“I don’t use the calendar on my phone, Lila, and who puts a calendar in the bedroom?”
“People who are trying to conceive,” I snap.
Tucker looks at me with an unfathomable expression. “Come on, Tucker,” I wheedle, and even to me, my voice sounds whiny. I move closer, sliding my hands into his back pockets and rubbing against him. “I’ll take good care of you.”
When he doesn’t protest, I take his hand and lead him upstairs. I undress him, kissing his neck, touching him all over, seductively peeling off my clothes while peeking over my shoulder and biting my lip. His thick cock stands at attention long before I’m done. I nudge him back toward the bed and take the lead, riding him like a porn star, giving him one hell of a show. When he climaxes and empties his seed into me, it feels like victory. I collapse beside him, quickly elevating my hips with a pillow to encourage his semen to move north. When he gets up a few minutes later and says he’s going to Joey’s, I just smile. “Hurry back, Stud.”
I leave Joey’s house much sooner than planned, but I don’t immediately go home. Instead, I find an empty parking lot and sit silently in my truck.
No one – well, no guy – would give me the time of day if I talked to them about this problem at home.
Frankly, referring to it as a "problem" sounds ridiculous, even to me. At most, it’s a situation.
My “problem”? My hot wife wants sex, and she’s going to want it multiple times a day for the next couple of days.
Every guy I know would revoke my man-card and laugh me out of the room for complaining. Hell, once upon a time, I’d have laughed at a guy complaining about his woman wanting sex.
That was before, though.
And the thing is, it isn’t a request. It’s an expectation, whether I’m in the mood or not.
Don’t get me wrong – I’m fully consensual. It’s just that the loss of spontaneity and fun when it comes to sex is taking a toll. There’s a strain between us that’s never been there before. Where sex was once us-focused, it’s become very goal-focused, and it’s changed the mood and emotion of our encounters.
She feels it, too.
Lila has certain sexual “tells” when she’s lost in sensation. The dilated pupils, her flushed cheeks and chest, the way her head drops back just so and exposes her throat, her throaty moans when she’s close to coming. I can tell when she’s caught up in the moment.
Her performance earlier?
That’s exactly what it was – a performance.
And calling me Stud? Reminding me that my services will be required again this evening?
That chapped my ass, but of course, I didn’t say anything.
What could I say?
My smoking-hot wife is demanding sex, and I’m complaining?
Maybe I should turn in my man-card.
“You’re gonna love this,” Tucker promises as he, Lila, Charlie, and I trudge across the huge parking lot outside a nondescript warehouse. “It’s a fantastic upper body workout.”
I frown. “It’s not my upper body I’m worried about.”
I’ve finished my course of steroids for my phantom pain, and the attacks have finally calmed down. Tucker informed me yesterday that now that I’m recovering, I need to be “more active”. When I pointed out that I exercise a minimum of three hours every day between PT, workouts with him and Tom, and Pilates with Lila and Charlie, he’d shaken his head. “There’s more to life than working out.”
I’d cocked my head at him. “Isn’t that blasphemy, coming from a personal trainer who owns his own gym?”
He’d grinned. “You need to get out more. I love Charlie, but she’s an introvert and a homebody. It takes a Herculean effort to keep her from spiraling happily into hermit-hood.”
“There’s nothing wrong with staying home in her off-time if it makes her happy. Being around people drains her. She needs to recharge.”
“Absolutely,” he agreed. “But you’re working toward a full recovery, and that includes getting out and functioning in the outside world.”
“So you’re taking me out for a playdate?”
He’d grinned again. “More or less. Wear something sexy, and don’t forget, I’m an ass man.”
I’d punched him just hard enough in the gut to make him grunt.
That’s how I find myself following Tucker and the girls into a brightly-lit building Saturday afternoon. I pause, taking in the scene around me. Sixty-foot-high walls wrap their way throughout the vast interior of the building. Some are short, straight sections unto themselves, while others connect and weave in a serpentine fashion. There’s even a section along a back wall that has an overhanging vertical face like a cliff. The walls are studded with randomly-shaped fluorescent climbing holds. I watch as a lean, wiry man ascends the wall, paying careful attention to how he places his feet.
I purse my lips. Toeholds could be a problem. I study the patterns of climbing holds on the wall nearest me, mentally mapping out a route I can manage with one leg.
I’m so busy scrutinizing the wall that I don’t notice the man approaching from my right until he speaks. “Hi. Welcome to The Goat Path. Have you guys been here before?”
Tucker sticks out his hand. “I’ve been here a few times with my brother. I think he and I worked with you before. My brother’s a paraplegic. You’re Craig, right?”
The two of them launch into a discussion about Tucker’s brother, Joey, while I stare at the walls with new fascination. If Joey could do this without the use of either of his legs, surely I can manage with one.
Indoor rock climbing is fantastic. It’s nothing I’d ever have thought about on my own, probably because I’d have assumed I couldn’t do it. Don’t get me wrong – it’s challenging as hell, but finding a path I can navigate using a single toehold or by pulling myself up using only my upper body is exhilarating. I start off on the practice wall to get used to the harness, ropes, and techniques. Once I’m comfortable, the four of us tackle a beginner’s wall. I glance over, watching Charlie nimbly scale the wall like she’s done it a thousand times before, even though I know she never has. My eyes linger on her long legs and perky ass, clad in sleek black yoga pants. My mouth goes dry, and I look away, forcing myself to concentrate on the wall in front of me. We end our adventure by completing a full-scale course, including hanging slabs, vertical faces, and a man-made cave.
“You’re going to be sore tomorrow,” Lila warns me as the four of us head into a casual restaurant for dinner. “That’s a really intense upper body workout.”
I shrug. “I work out a lot. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Tucker laughs. “I’ll remind you of that tomorrow. Remember how I said I’d push you to your limits? This is one of those times. All of that work was done over your head, Princess. You’re going to hurt in muscles you didn’t even know you had.”
Charlie leans close. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you a good rubdown after a hot shower tonight.”
For the rest of dinner, all I can think about is Charlie’s hands all over my body.