Chapter 2
two
Hunter
The phantom leg pain woke me up in the middle of the night as if fate was telling me there’s no future lusting after a sweet woman like Millie.
I was looking forward to seeing her smiling face at the grocery store for my weekly run into town.
Ever since my accident with the IED and my honorable discharge from the military last year, I haven’t had much to look forward to—until I met Millie four weeks ago.
Her bright smile and easygoing conversation had me wanting to absorb more of her sunshine.
Unfortunately, with my disability, basking in her positive energy isn’t something I can afford to do.
Being around her would mean she would eventually see all my flaws and shortcomings.
The last thing I want is to see the pity in her eyes when she realizes I’m only a shell of my former self.
And the horror in her eyes if she ever saw the scars on my leg or what’s left of my leg would be too much to bear.
I’d rather keep my distance while clinging to those three wonderful, shared moments we had at the grocery store check-out counter.
My cat, Hissy, decides to make her presence known by jumping onto my lap.
She might be an asshole of a cat, hence the name Hissy, but she always makes sure to avoid jumping on my bad leg.
She’s part of the Wounded Warrior Sanctuary Bay Blackwood, and his wife Jessa started last summer.
The sanctuary offers a cabin in the mountains and an emotional support animal to each military vet in need of assistance, in exchange for working for the sanctuary.
My job is in cybersecurity. It lets me work from home and rest my leg whenever I need to.
It also keeps me from having to deal with other people, which I requested when I first arrived in Temptation Ridge a month ago.
Peace and quiet are what I want after almost a year in the hospital, undergoing surgeries and learning to use my prosthetic leg.
The cabins are spacious two-bedroom homes, far enough apart to give everyone the privacy they need to fight their demons, yet close enough to remain a community.
Bay and Jessa even have a fully staffed cafeteria just a mile away on what they call the central campus.
It’s mainly for the vets who aren’t ready to live on their own and who are assigned apartments in the complex until they are ready to move farther away into their own cabin.
Bay and Jessa’s program has been a Godsend—well, except for Hissy.
Hissy fooled me into choosing her at the animal shelter by placing her paw against the glass as I walked by.
Little did I know the sweet princess I thought I was getting would turn into the demanding queen using my lap as her throne.
“What should we do tonight, girl?” I run my fingers under her chin, just the way she likes it. Too bad she’s the only woman I’ll ever touch. Planning a date night with my cat seems about as low as I can go.
My plans to fall in love, get married, and start a family have long since faded. Now my future consists of my job, Hissy, and taking it one day at a time.
Thankfully, Millie wasn’t the one who answered the phone when I called the grocery store to place my delivery order.
Hearing her voice again might have led me to do something foolish, like race into town just to catch a glimpse of her beautiful face and curvy body, which have kept me up more nights than I care to count.
With one hand still scratching Hissy under her chin, I massage my stump through my sweatpants.
The pain brought swelling, so I decided to forgo the prosthesis today and use my crutches to get around the cabin.
I’m not worried about Matt seeing me like this.
I’ve met him a couple of times at the weekly support group meetings for vets.
He was a medic in the Army, so I’m not worried about his reaction to seeing me on crutches with only one whole leg.
The knock on my front door has Hissy bolting off my lap. One other thing about Hissy is that she hates people—she tolerates me, but only because I’m the one who feeds her.
Picking up my crutches that are leaning against the couch, I haul myself to a standing position and make my way to the front door.
“Thanks for bringing me my groceries--the leg was bothering me today,” I say, swinging open the door only to find Millie standing there instead of her brother.
“Shit.” The curse slips out as I slam the door in Millie’s face, hoping she didn’t notice the crutches or that one of my pant legs on my sweats is folded in half, emphasizing the missing limb.
Rushing as fast as someone on crutches with only one leg can, I race into my bedroom, slip off my sweatpants, and attach my prosthetic leg before changing into a whole pair of sweatpants and sliding into a pair of shoes.
Hating myself for slamming the door in her face, I hurry back to let her in now that I’m more presentable.
I open the door to find Millie still standing there with two large grocery bags in her hands.
“Sorry about that.” I don’t elaborate as to why I slammed the door in her face, and I’m grateful when she doesn’t push the issue.
“Um, no problem. Matt was busy, so I’m delivering your groceries.” She nods toward her SUV. “There’s more in my car.”
Shit, I’ve literally left her standing on my porch, holding the bag, or in this case, bags. “Here, let me take those.” I reach out to take the paper bags from her hands. When our fingers touch, I swear a spark of electricity shoots up my arms.
“Thanks, I’ll grab the rest from the car.” Millie snatches her hands back as if she’s been burned. The gesture tells me she’s just as affected by my touch as I am by hers—too bad nothing can come of the attraction.
I notice the snowflakes in her hair and silently curse myself for making her stand outside in the snow so I could put on my prosthetic. “No, come inside and warm up. Give me your keys, and I’ll get the rest of the bags.” I back into my cabin, motioning for her to follow me.
After setting the bags on my kitchen table, I make my way back to Millie, who’s still standing by the open door. “It will be faster if I help.” I expect her gaze to drop to my legs, as it does when most people realize I don’t have two fully functioning legs. But her gaze never wavers from mine.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to decline her offer to help, but she’s right—it will be faster if she helps.
Then she can get back on the road before the snow worsens.
“Alright.” I throw on my winter coat and follow her to her SUV.
It only takes a couple of trips from the car to the cabin with both of us carrying groceries, but in that time, the snow and wind have picked up, making it almost impossible to see two feet ahead.
“I should probably go.” She shuts the back of her SUV after I’ve grabbed the last two bags.
“The snow and wind have picked up.” My gaze shifts to the heavy snow falling around us, then back to her face. “I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere for a while. You might even have to spend the night.”