the young man had made up his mind that it wasn’t going to happen.
Thorne had seen that before—when the spirit just wanted to give up and no amount of modern medicine would help that patient recover. It was like the soul was already trying to escape.
“Hold on, Liam. Just hold on.”
“I can’t, Thorne. Let me go.”
“Why did you step in front of the IED for me?”
Thorne had read his own records, the ones which had been taken by his commanding officer from the USNV. He’d developed a post-op fever, no doubt from the virulent infection coursing through his body.
In his brief memories, when he could recall that moment, he remembered the feeling of slipping away, but something pulling him back.
An angel.
Erica.
Seeing her face hovering above him had grounded him.
Sometimes when the pain was bad, when it felt like the amputated leg was still there and he couldn’t take it any longer, he hated Erica for saving his life.
Then again, after he’d been shot and they’d spent those days holed up in the sewers, he hadn’t thought he was going to get out of there. He’d thought he was going to die in the sewer, which would’ve been better.
One less body in a casket for his mother to weep over.
No, don’t let those memories in.
He didn’t want to think about his twin’s funeral, because when he thought of Liam he inevitably thought about how he’d tried to save his life.
“You’re crushing me, Thorne.”
“I’m applying pressure. I’m the medic, you’re the hero. Remember?”
Liam had smiled weakly.
“I’m past that point. Let me go.”
That moment of clarity, when you felt no pain and your body was just tired of struggling on. You weren’t afraid of death any longer. Death meant rest.
Thorne glanced back at the ICU. He saw thatlook of resolution on Corporal Ryder’s face and he hoped the young man would fight.
Ryder still had his leg.
Thorne didn’t and if he hadn’t been in the medical corps of the Navy, if he hadn’t had so many commendations and something to fall back on, he would’ve been discharged.
Ryder has to live.
Thorne clenched his fists to ease the anger he was feeling, because if he marched in there now to do his own assessment of the situation, to ease the guilt and anguish he was feeling over Corporal Ryder, he was likely to take it out on Erica.
The surgeon who had taken his leg. Only, she’d tried to save it. He’d seen the reports. It was the infection from the dirty water he’d been forced to live in.
There was nothing to be done at that point. There had been no one to blame but himself. He was the one who’d decided to step in front of that bullet to protect Tyler.
He didn’t blame Erica—only, maybe, for saving his life.
He’d thought about her countless times, about kissing those lips, touching her face. Of course, those had been fantasies as he’d recovered. He thought those feelings of lust would disappear when he met her in person.
Thorne was positive that he’d built her up in his head. That it was the drugs which had obscured his memories.
No one could be that beautiful.
He was wrong. Even though his memory had been slightly fuzzy, his fantasies about her didn’t do her justice.
When she’d rushed into the fray to give Corporal Ryder first aid on the beach, he knew why she was one of the top trauma surgeons in the medical corps.
The real woman was so much more than his fantasy one. Which was dangerous, because he felt something more than just attraction…
It was dangerous, because he did feel something more than just attraction toward her. He wanted to get to know her, open his heart to her, and that was something he couldn’t do.
He wasn’t going to let in any one else.
There was no room to love. He wouldn’t risk his heart, and if something happened to him, well, he wasn’t going to put any woman through that. He’d seen what had happened to his brother’s wife and children when Liam had died. And, make no mistake, it was
Thorne had seen that before—when the spirit just wanted to give up and no amount of modern medicine would help that patient recover. It was like the soul was already trying to escape.
“Hold on, Liam. Just hold on.”
“I can’t, Thorne. Let me go.”
“Why did you step in front of the IED for me?”
Thorne had read his own records, the ones which had been taken by his commanding officer from the USNV. He’d developed a post-op fever, no doubt from the virulent infection coursing through his body.
In his brief memories, when he could recall that moment, he remembered the feeling of slipping away, but something pulling him back.
An angel.
Erica.
Seeing her face hovering above him had grounded him.
Sometimes when the pain was bad, when it felt like the amputated leg was still there and he couldn’t take it any longer, he hated Erica for saving his life.
Then again, after he’d been shot and they’d spent those days holed up in the sewers, he hadn’t thought he was going to get out of there. He’d thought he was going to die in the sewer, which would’ve been better.
One less body in a casket for his mother to weep over.
No, don’t let those memories in.
He didn’t want to think about his twin’s funeral, because when he thought of Liam he inevitably thought about how he’d tried to save his life.
“You’re crushing me, Thorne.”
“I’m applying pressure. I’m the medic, you’re the hero. Remember?”
Liam had smiled weakly.
“I’m past that point. Let me go.”
That moment of clarity, when you felt no pain and your body was just tired of struggling on. You weren’t afraid of death any longer. Death meant rest.
Thorne glanced back at the ICU. He saw thatlook of resolution on Corporal Ryder’s face and he hoped the young man would fight.
Ryder still had his leg.
Thorne didn’t and if he hadn’t been in the medical corps of the Navy, if he hadn’t had so many commendations and something to fall back on, he would’ve been discharged.
Ryder has to live.
Thorne clenched his fists to ease the anger he was feeling, because if he marched in there now to do his own assessment of the situation, to ease the guilt and anguish he was feeling over Corporal Ryder, he was likely to take it out on Erica.
The surgeon who had taken his leg. Only, she’d tried to save it. He’d seen the reports. It was the infection from the dirty water he’d been forced to live in.
There was nothing to be done at that point. There had been no one to blame but himself. He was the one who’d decided to step in front of that bullet to protect Tyler.
He didn’t blame Erica—only, maybe, for saving his life.
He’d thought about her countless times, about kissing those lips, touching her face. Of course, those had been fantasies as he’d recovered. He thought those feelings of lust would disappear when he met her in person.
Thorne was positive that he’d built her up in his head. That it was the drugs which had obscured his memories.
No one could be that beautiful.
He was wrong. Even though his memory had been slightly fuzzy, his fantasies about her didn’t do her justice.
When she’d rushed into the fray to give Corporal Ryder first aid on the beach, he knew why she was one of the top trauma surgeons in the medical corps.
The real woman was so much more than his fantasy one. Which was dangerous, because he felt something more than just attraction…
It was dangerous, because he did feel something more than just attraction toward her. He wanted to get to know her, open his heart to her, and that was something he couldn’t do.
He wasn’t going to let in any one else.
There was no room to love. He wouldn’t risk his heart, and if something happened to him, well, he wasn’t going to put any woman through that. He’d seen what had happened to his brother’s wife and children when Liam had died. And, make no mistake, it was
Similar Books
