Chapter Fifty-Eight
Sloane
Ashley walked in the front door with Millie’s car seat, diaper bag, and Target bags in her hands, while Jeff carried Amazon boxes.
They looked like a happy family. At the carnival, it’d pissed me off, now it just gutted me.
“Are you okay?” Crash asked as Ash set the bags on the steps to her apartment.
“We’re okay. I’m probably going to be sore once the adrenaline and endorphins finish wearing off and the swelling starts.”
I wanted to pull her into my arms and Millie simultaneously from her car seat and hug them both. And make sure for myself that they were all right, but I wasn’t steady enough on my feet yet, plus I was still bitter Ashley had called Jeff instead of me, so I settled for kissing Millie’s little head.
“Did you guys go shopping?” Stu quipped.
“No, that was the stuff from my car.”
Stu motioned to the boxes Jeff set by the kitchen island.
“Oh, those were on the porch. It’s some stuff I ordered for Millie.” She looked at me with a forced smile. “I bought a bassinet for downstairs.”
Of course she did because she was fucking thoughtful. And I was totally unworthy of her.
I kissed Millie’s head again, and her sweet baby smell filled my nostrils, so I inhaled deeply to breathe in her scent. That’s when it hit me.
My sense of smell had returned.
I wanted to nestle my face in Ashley’s neck to see if she smelled like I remembered. She probably wouldn’t appreciate that.
Especially since I was leaving in the morning.
****
Ashley
Stu, Crash, and Sloane were sweet and waited on me hand and foot. They insisted I sit with my feet up on the couch and take it easy.
“We can take a few days off from ‘official’ therapy,” Crash insisted when he put a throw over me.
“Yeah. And I think you should get in the hydrotherapy tub after dinner,” Stu added, then cast a sideways glance at Sloane. “Alone.”
I really wanted to avoid that conversation, which was why I’d practically run out of the house that morning.
“I am planning on getting in the tub later tonight. As far as you skipping therapy, we’ll see how I feel tomorrow,” I said, “but I think I should be able to still supervise things just fine.”
“You probably don’t want to risk it,” Crash replied. “It won’t kill us to wait until Monday to allow your body some time to rest and recover.”
I thought about what Jeff had said about not pushing myself. But I also didn’t want to cheat these guys in their recovery.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
It’d been a long time since I’d had any spare time to read for pleasure, so I pulled my Kindle from my bag and opened up the latest Maggie Ryan book I’d been dying to read.
When I got to the sexy times, I peeked out the window at Sloane who was on the beach, shirtless, with Stu and Crash playing frisbee, and decided it was probably better if I skipped that part until I was alone in my apartment.
I wasn’t sure where he and I stood.
Our agreed upon one-night had turned into almost a week. But he and I weren’t connected, not like before his accident. The sex had been outstanding, but he was a different man now, rightfully so. And why he was so damn determined to stay in the Marines had me baffled.
Jeff was right. Sloane needed to work on himself before I could even consider a future with him. Besides, I wasn’t even sure he wanted a future with me.
Fortunately, he wanted to be in Millie’s life, and that’s what was important.
But since I’d crossed that line with him—and that was all on me—I’d instigated that, I didn’t know how to maneuver moving forward as just PTA and patient, and co-parents.
As soon as I’d started nursing Millie, the guys came in and announced they were making dinner.
“And we’re using the stove and oven,” Stu said with a grin.
“You’re big boys,” I retorted from my seat on the couch with Millie at my breast under a nursing blanket. “Just make sure the fire extinguisher is handy.”
“Ha ha.”
I wasn’t joking but decided not to point that out.
I listened to the men banter as they danced around each other, but I noticed Sloane was exceptionally quiet. I wondered if he was still upset I’d called Jeff for help earlier.
My answer came during dinner when he casually said, “I’m moving out tomorrow.”
My eyes narrowed at him as I asked, “What do you mean, you’re moving out? Where are you going?”
“I’m starting the Recovery Coordination Program. I’m going to be a part of the Wounded Warrior Regiment, so I’ll be back on base. Ryan is picking me up in the morning.”
“Why?”
“It’s structured and reinforces the Marine mindset. Being part of the regiment will get me ready to serve again faster.”
“When did you decide this?”
“This afternoon.”
This afternoon.
How convenient.
I wanted to yell at him . Don’t you think we should have talked about this? Things aren’t just about you anymore! You have a daughter to consider now! Stop being such a fucking baby. So, I called Jeff before you, it wasn’t personal—I was being practical.
But instead, I simply said, “I see,” but he could tell I was fuming by my glare.
And he didn’t seem to care.