Anyone can come on stage and perform. Nothing doing, just hang out with me.”
Blake’s biggest mistake had been mentioning once to Sam his disgust at being stared at and his passion for music. These days, the other man seemed hell-bent on making sure he performed his Mother Teresa duties by getting Blake out of the house and back into circulation.
“No, thanks.” Blake shook his head.
“You know better. I won’t take no for an answer. I’ll let it go today, but I’m not going to stop asking. Don’t forget I know where you live, and I got your cell number, too.” Sam grinned and his eyes glittered.
“You can try annoying me, but it won’t work.” Blake seethed when he recognized the determination in Sam’s face, and he knew better than to argue. The man had been in the military for a long time. Persistence and patience came with the territory.
“Just saying.” Sam finished the hand massage and worked on the rest of Blake’s left arm.
Blake kept his eyes closed and his mouth shut while Sam worked on the rest of his limbs. It was the part of therapy that he detested the most. Looking at his body in the mirror was one thing, letting another person see his scars and what was left of his body was too much for him.
Sam remained quiet, whistling and humming while he worked.
After their session, Blake felt a remarkable difference in his range of motion, although he refused to admit to it. Stubborn was his middle name, after all, and anger had taken up permanent residence in his psyche.
Drew jumped up the minute Blake set out to leave.
The dog had been a puppy when Blake had begun serving in the military. Now at seven years old, Drew still had spring in his step despite the noticeable swelling on his front legs—the onset of arthritis, according to his veterinarian.
Wagging his tail, Drew licked Blake’s hand as soon as he took the leash.
“Hey, boy, ready to go?” Blake murmured, giving his pal a thorough rubdown on his back and neck.
The minute they walked out of the air-conditioned building, searing heat hit Blake full blast. Only ten in the morning, and the temperature tipped the nineties. They hustled to the Jeep where Blake began pulling the soft top back. The leather seat was way too hot to sit on. He fanned the material to help cool it down, giving it several more minutes before he could manage to bear sitting on the hot surface.
He drove to town and grabbed some food before heading home. His body began reacting to the blistering heat, making him a little lightheaded. It was a sure sign that he needed cooler temperatures right away.
What a joke.
The last place one would expect to find a burn victim was living in a sweltering town that boasted cacti, tumbleweeds, and mile after mile of barren land.
Once he reached home, he snagged his take-out burrito and a glass of iced tea, and settled into the lounger perfectly situated in the cool shade of his backyard, while Drew sprawled out in contentment by his feet. Blake shed his beanie but not his eye patch. Months hadn’t helped him get used to the empty eye socket, and he doubted he ever would be. In a few weeks, he would be meeting with an ocularist to get fitted with an artificial eye. He’d still be blind, but at least he wouldn’t have to garner stares because he looked like a misplaced pirate. Pretending to be normal was taxing, but if he ever had a sliver of desire to rejoin the rest of the world, he should at least try to fit in.
Not that I care.
With a sigh, he downed the remaining iced tea.
The doorbell rang.
Persistent bastard!
Blake padded past the living room and yanked the front open. “Can’t you take no for an answer? Shove your shit down your throat and scram!” Blake almost stumbled backward when he realized it wasn’t Sam’s face on the other side, but Jennifer’s.
God, she looks better every time.
Her smile faded and she gasped.
He couldn’t help wondering if it was due to his not-so-warm welcome or his
Blake’s biggest mistake had been mentioning once to Sam his disgust at being stared at and his passion for music. These days, the other man seemed hell-bent on making sure he performed his Mother Teresa duties by getting Blake out of the house and back into circulation.
“No, thanks.” Blake shook his head.
“You know better. I won’t take no for an answer. I’ll let it go today, but I’m not going to stop asking. Don’t forget I know where you live, and I got your cell number, too.” Sam grinned and his eyes glittered.
“You can try annoying me, but it won’t work.” Blake seethed when he recognized the determination in Sam’s face, and he knew better than to argue. The man had been in the military for a long time. Persistence and patience came with the territory.
“Just saying.” Sam finished the hand massage and worked on the rest of Blake’s left arm.
Blake kept his eyes closed and his mouth shut while Sam worked on the rest of his limbs. It was the part of therapy that he detested the most. Looking at his body in the mirror was one thing, letting another person see his scars and what was left of his body was too much for him.
Sam remained quiet, whistling and humming while he worked.
After their session, Blake felt a remarkable difference in his range of motion, although he refused to admit to it. Stubborn was his middle name, after all, and anger had taken up permanent residence in his psyche.
Drew jumped up the minute Blake set out to leave.
The dog had been a puppy when Blake had begun serving in the military. Now at seven years old, Drew still had spring in his step despite the noticeable swelling on his front legs—the onset of arthritis, according to his veterinarian.
Wagging his tail, Drew licked Blake’s hand as soon as he took the leash.
“Hey, boy, ready to go?” Blake murmured, giving his pal a thorough rubdown on his back and neck.
The minute they walked out of the air-conditioned building, searing heat hit Blake full blast. Only ten in the morning, and the temperature tipped the nineties. They hustled to the Jeep where Blake began pulling the soft top back. The leather seat was way too hot to sit on. He fanned the material to help cool it down, giving it several more minutes before he could manage to bear sitting on the hot surface.
He drove to town and grabbed some food before heading home. His body began reacting to the blistering heat, making him a little lightheaded. It was a sure sign that he needed cooler temperatures right away.
What a joke.
The last place one would expect to find a burn victim was living in a sweltering town that boasted cacti, tumbleweeds, and mile after mile of barren land.
Once he reached home, he snagged his take-out burrito and a glass of iced tea, and settled into the lounger perfectly situated in the cool shade of his backyard, while Drew sprawled out in contentment by his feet. Blake shed his beanie but not his eye patch. Months hadn’t helped him get used to the empty eye socket, and he doubted he ever would be. In a few weeks, he would be meeting with an ocularist to get fitted with an artificial eye. He’d still be blind, but at least he wouldn’t have to garner stares because he looked like a misplaced pirate. Pretending to be normal was taxing, but if he ever had a sliver of desire to rejoin the rest of the world, he should at least try to fit in.
Not that I care.
With a sigh, he downed the remaining iced tea.
The doorbell rang.
Persistent bastard!
Blake padded past the living room and yanked the front open. “Can’t you take no for an answer? Shove your shit down your throat and scram!” Blake almost stumbled backward when he realized it wasn’t Sam’s face on the other side, but Jennifer’s.
God, she looks better every time.
Her smile faded and she gasped.
He couldn’t help wondering if it was due to his not-so-warm welcome or his
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