Anything For You: A Coming Home Short Story (4 page)

“Well, if he knocks your teeth out, I don’t want to hear about it,” Shane said, lowering the incline. His left thigh was screaming in pain.

“Ike won’t hit me.” Carponti held up his prosthetic hand. “I’m a cripple. Ike has a soft spot for the walking wounded.”

Shane snorted and glanced at the timer. He’d been running for twenty-two minutes and he felt like he was going to die. He needed to build his endurance back up before he even thought about asking Sergeant Major Giles for a job back.

“When do you report?”

“Next week.” Carponti sobered and rubbed the back of his neck. “Is it weird that I’m kind of nervous?”

Shane hit the stop button. It was a long moment before he spoke. “I don’t think so. I mean, I’ve been wondering what it’s going to be like going back, too. The guys are still the same. You’ll find your place there again.”

“What if I can’t?” Carponti avoided his gaze.

“You will. It’s as simple as that.”

Carponti nodded, a slow grin on his lips. “Yeah, I guess I should have known you’d whip my ass for doubting. Anyway, gotta run and pick up Nicole.”

He walked off, and Shane started the treadmill again.

*   *   *

There was something about watching the well put-together man who shared her life run that twisted up Jen’s insides. Shane had always been a beautiful man, but watching him run right then, his arms swinging, his back heaving from the exertion, made her blood hum with warmth.

He flinched and stumbled. He caught himself on the railing of the treadmill before he fell, but not before Jen’s heart stopped in her throat. She rushed into the gym as he slammed his hand on the emergency stop button.

His gaze collided with hers a moment before she glanced at the digital display to see how long he’d been running.

“You’re trying to hurt yourself, aren’t you?”

He looked down at her, his expression more than a little sheepish. His chest heaved with exertion.  “Just trying to see how long and hard I could go.”

She folded her arms over her chest, not caring that this man held her heart in his hands. Right then, he was a patient who was, quite frankly, being a moron. “So are you trying to tear something? Rip muscles that aren’t ready for that kind of effort? You’re supposed to be healing, Shane Garrison.”

She yanked a towel off the rack and tossed it at him. He caught it easily.

She turned to walk out of the gym, because right then, she was absolutely furious with him. She’d had every intention of trying to have a rational, calm discussion with him regarding his stupid vasectomy plans, but now she wanted to rail at him. To shout at him that he was risking more than just his health by pushing too far. His damn stubbornness drove her insane.

She didn’t make it to the door.

“Jen.” He stepped right in front of her. His shirt hugged his chest, the soaked fabric outlining the solid wall of his body. He radiated heat and, even covered in sweat, his scent drew her closer.

“What are you trying to prove?” she whispered. “That you’re still some macho infantryman?” She lifted her chin, not backing down from the consternation she saw looking back at her. “There’s a fine line between ‘hooah’ and stupid, and you crossed it about twenty minutes ago.”

Shane laughed. It was not a reaction she’d been expecting, and honestly, it irritated her. She turned to move around him.

“Don’t.” He lifted his hands, settling them on her shoulders. “I’m sorry, I was just thinking you could get Sarn’t Major Giles to follow your rules.” His fingers tightened on her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t about sorry, Shane.” Her voice cracked.

“I know.” He stroked his thumb across her cheek, his touch gentle. Hesitant. As though he expected her to pull away again.

She’d hurt him that morning, she realized. As badly as she’d been hurt by finding the papers, she’d hurt him by walking away.

She nuzzled his palm, grateful they were alone.

“So is there any way we can have a rational discussion about this?” he murmured, his voice thick.

“Which ‘this’ are we talking about?”

“Both?” He shifted his weight and flinched.

Jen frowned at him. “Only if you sit down before you fall.”

He slipped his hand down her arm to capture her fingers, threading his in hers. Saying nothing, he led her to the stairwell and started to climb. She thought about protesting, but the stubborn set of his jaw suggested it would be futile.

She knew where he was taking her. To the roof. They’d spent many a lunch break up there since he’d begun his long journey to recovery. It was a place she’d used to escape the trials of work before she’d met him. It was a place she’d shared with him when he’d gotten frustrated with the slow pace of his healing.

He held the door for her as they walked into the bright Fort Hood afternoon. February in Central Texas could be anywhere from blazing hot to freezing. Today was mild and warm.

Shane’s hand was strong as he led her to a low cement wall. He sat, then tugged gently until she stood between his thighs, looking down at him.

Her warrior. She traced one finger over the edge of the black tattoo that circled his neck. He was having his tattoos that had been damaged when he’d gotten blown up redone. There were puckered lines on both his forearms.

Tattoos had never done anything for her until she’d met Shane. Now?
Now they just worked.

Shane wrapped his arms around her waist and looked up at her. “I’m not good at this,” he said softly. “I’m not used to living in fear, Jen.”

She shook her head. “You’re not going to convince me that you’ve never been afraid. You’ve been to Iraq.”

He reached up to cradle her cheek. “That’s a different kind of fear. It’s not what I feel when I think about losing you.” His voice broke. “I don’t think about you as a cancer patient, but I do think about it coming back. I worry.” His fingers flexed against her cheek. “And there’s nothing I can do. I feel useless.”

“Do you always read medical journals when you feel useless?” She smiled to soften her pointed question.

He swallowed, his cheeks flushing. “I need facts, and the fact is, there aren’t enough studies to prove that having a baby won’t risk your life. Not with the kind of cancer you had.” He leaned up to kiss her fiercely. “I can’t lose you, Jennifer St. James. Not when I just found you.”

Tears burned in her eyes at his admission. “It’s not that simple, Shane.”

“It is. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I...I can’t live with the risk of getting you pregnant. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you because of me.”

She lowered her forehead to his. “Oh, Shane.” Her heart broke in her chest. “All my life I’ve wanted a family. When I lost Gran, I lost the last family I had that mattered.” She sniffed and swiped at her eyes. “I want a family with you.”

“And I want that, too, but not if it risks your life.” He pulled her lips to his, claiming her mouth, owning a piece of her soul. “Family isn’t defined by blood. We’ll have our family, Jen.” He kissed the corner of her lips. “We can adopt a dozen kids, if that’s what you want.”

“Why couldn’t you just talk to me about this first? Why make the appointment without talking to me?”

An impossible silence was the only answer she needed.

“I was afraid.” He closed his eyes, the muscle in his jaw working fiercely. “I know you want a family. I didn’t know how to talk to you about this.”

“So, when were you going to tell me?”

He looked away. “I was going to bring it up over breakfast, but you found the paperwork first.”

She lifted a single eyebrow. “So it was going to be, ‘Honey, please pass the bacon. Oh, by the way, better stock up on peas because I’m getting my balls chopped next week’?”

He laughed. “Not exactly. Okay, maybe I hadn’t thought through how I was going to talk to you about this.” He reached for her then, capturing her hand in his and threading his fingers with hers. “I was afraid to tell you how terrified I am of losing you.”

“Shane—”

“I mean it. It’s not easy for me to admit.”

“You know, for a big tough infantryman, you’re afraid of the strangest things. Tubes in your penis. Cancer.”

He flinched even as a dark flush crept up his neck. “These are not little things to be afraid of. At least, not the cancer part.  I’m sorry I was an asshole about this.”

“You weren’t an asshole.” She lifted one hand and traced her fingertips across the hard line of his jaw. “Okay, maybe a little bit. Was it so hard to admit you were afraid?”

“You have no idea.” He met her gaze. “I don’t have to have your permission for the docs to do this. But I want it.” His thumb stroked her lip. “I need you to tell me this is okay.”

She blinked rapidly, tears spilling over her cheeks despite her best effort. She offered a watery smile. “Yes, Shane, you can get neutered.”

“That’s not funny,” he mumbled, before he laughed. Then he pulled her close, resting his head against the scar on her chest. “Thank you. Oh God, thank you.”

*   *   *

They were walking down the stairwell when Shane gripped the railing suddenly. Jen was instantly at his side, helping him sit. He dropped his head into his hands, breathing slowly through his nose. Jen said nothing as he fought to get his breathing under control.

It was a long moment before he looked at her.

“Pushed too hard, didn’t you?” she whispered.

“Yeah.”

She poked her elbow into his ribs. “Idiot.”

Shane grinned, then scrubbed his hands over his face. “Sarn’t Major Giles wants me back in the brigade.” He looked at her, his expression wary. “I think about it. About going back. I worry that I’ll never be the same again. That I’ll go back and I’ll be slower. Or not as strong. That I’ll make a mistake that gets someone killed.”

Jen threaded her arm through his and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’m afraid of you going back, too.” The emotion burned behind her eyes.

“There are jobs here. Jobs I won’t have to leave you to do.” He kissed the top of her head, then rested his cheek against her hair. “I’ve thought about getting out. About packing it in.”

Her fingers tightened against his forearm. “I won’t lie to you and tell you it doesn’t sound good, having you home every night, but don’t do this because of me.” She lifted her head from his shoulder and met his gaze. “I love you. I know that you’re a soldier, and I know that I have to learn to live with the fear of you getting on that plane again someday. If you don’t go back, you’ll always wonder what if. You’ll always have that knowledge that you could have gone back hanging over your head.” She paused. The buzz of the lights overhead was the only sound in the stairwell. “So what I’m saying is that I’ll love you either way. Don’t make this decision because of me. Make it because of you.”

“That’s a lot for me to ask of you in one day,” he said, his voice thick.

“We’re a team, right?” Her eyes filled. “If the day comes that I get sick again, I’ll ask you to stay with me.”

His eyes darkened as his cheeks flushed.  “Don’t say that.”

“I’m not planning on getting sick again,” she said with a smile. “But if the day comes that I need you home, I’ll ask.”

“I’ll be there.” His entire body tensed. “I’ll never leave you.”

“Until then, I want you to be happy. If that means being a soldier, I’ll find a way to deal with that.” She grinned wickedly. “You might have to deal with my ass being a little bit bigger, though, because apparently my stress management involves Ben & Jerry’s.”

Shane laughed out loud and pulled her tight against his chest. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yeah, but you got me.” She pressed her lips to his mouth. “Now will you please stop pushing yourself so hard in the gym? I’d like you to not almost pass out after you work out.”

He pushed to his feet, then offered her a hand. “Yes, ma’am.”

*   *   *

“I cannot believe they scheduled you for surgery on Valentine’s Day,” Jen said, holding out her hand for the bag of peas currently resting on Shane’s lap. He passed them to her and settled the fresh frozen bag in its place.

Shane said nothing, nursing a beer. He hadn’t said much since he’d gotten home. She figured the trauma of having his scrotum injected with a needle and, cut with a knife, was probably weighing on him. The man had been blown up in combat, but a tiny needle near his groin was causing an epic freak-out. Of course, this was the same man who’d had a highly unreasonable reaction to a catheter once upon a time.

Sighing, she placed the peas back in the freezer for when he needed to swap them out again, then started dinner. She figured a couple of steaks and a salad would be a nice meal on Valentine’s Day. There was low noise from the living room where Shane watched TV, but the house was quiet. Comfortable. Familiar.

It felt right having him in her living room, but part of her worried that maybe he was having second thoughts. That maybe he was reconsidering his decision to alter his ability to have children. That maybe he was rethinking his future with her.