A Soldier's Family. Cheryl Wyatt
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will you get to jump again?” Javier asked.
Manny didn’t answer for the longest time. It tore at her heart to watch his throat constrict like that but she knew he tried to be brave.
“I’m not sure,” Manny finally answered.
“Ah, dude, you will get to jump again, right?” Javier asked.
Again, the Adam’s apple in Manny’s throat gave him away. “I hope so. The next six months will tell.”
“Six months? That stinks. Bradley said you might do rehab here.”
For some reason Manny flicked a glance Celia’s way and held it there, almost like a question. “I might.”
“Dude, I hope you do. I mean, you’re a PJ. An American hero. If you ever wanna use Dad’s weight room in our basement, dude, feel free. Mom could never get rid of it, ’cause she used to walk the treadmill while Dad and I pumped iron. If you ever need a workout buddy, I’m game.”
Manny’s eyes glittered with something Celia couldn’t discern. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Wait. Manny working out in her house? Getting all sweaty and buff just a floor beneath her?
Nuh-uh. Nope. That wouldn’t be good. What if she ended up falling for the guy or something crazy? She didn’t like that idea.
She decided against scolding Javier in front of Manny. That might damage her relationship with Javier further. But as soon as she got him alone, he needed to know not to make suggestions like that without consulting her first. She caught Javier’s eye and tossed him “The Mommy Look” instead, which he pretended not to see.
Unease cinched her stomach tight at the look of hero worship coming from her son’s eyes every time he looked at Airman Péna. Maybe she should keep space between the two of them. She’d worked all these years to steer Javier toward choosing a sensible career, not dangerous ones. Javier didn’t seem at all fazed by Manny’s injuries.
She worked three jobs and scraped every penny to send him to college. She planned to surprise Javier by prepaying tuition at the local university. That would give him a good start. A better one than she’d had. Hopefully, Javier would appreciate her sacrifice and do well. She could see him behind a fancy executive desk. Certainly not stuffed in some tank or chopper.
Javier cracked his knuckles. “Dude, I hope you get to go back to the military. That’s the coolest job in the world.”
All right. That’s it. Celia snapped fingers at her son. “Javier, we need to go. Gotta get crackin’ on that homework.”
Javier half faced her, his shoulders slumped. “But I have all weekend to—”
“Please don’t argue with your mom, Javier,” Manny said in gentle but firm tones.
Celia, Javier and Bradley turned to the bed. Javier started to open his mouth. Manny cast a no-contest expression his way that bordered on stern.
Oh, boy, here we go. Her son unfortunately had been cursed with her short fuse of a temper and had inherited her inability to control her tongue.
Which is why it surprised her when Javier’s stance softened instead of hardened into his typical defensive posture.
Javier bounced on his heels. “Yeah. I need to split and plow through that homework, dude. So, we’ll see you later.”
Manny waved at Javier and Bradley, and winked at her. “Later.”
Winked. At her?
What on earth was she supposed to make of that? The last thing Celia wanted for her or Javier was a flirt with danger.
Celia straightened her spine and ushered the boys into the hall without a backward glance. The quiet chuckle following from inside the room made her want to trot right back in there and assault him with his IV pole. A conk right between the eyes should do it.
She let out a long, unladylike groan. This was going to be the longest six months of her life.
Chapter Four
Manny hated this. Six months couldn’t get here fast enough. He absolutely despised, loathed and abhorred having to depend on other people.
He gave his bedside table a little shove. Maybe too hard. It bumped his crutches propped up against the wall at the head of his bed. They slid sideways and clattered to the floor.
He lay back and groaned. Where was that reacher thing that came in his hip kit? His precautions wouldn’t allow him to bend or squat to get the crutches. He scanned the room.
Great. His hip kit sat near his closet…across the room.
Manny eyed the call light. Nah, he’d figure a way to do this himself. He was sick and tired of having to call for help every time he needed to blow his nose, brush his teeth or blink.
Why couldn’t he remember to leave stuff within reach?
He’d spent five days post-op in the hospital, then five days in the short-term rehab center where he was now. Nurses and physical therapists waited on him hand and foot. Even to the humiliating point of having to help him use the bedpan.
He’d been subjected to daily bed baths with sticky soap and stinky lotion and towels that were never big enough. Not to mention hard beds and lumpy pillows that squeaked every time he moved, then drenched his head with sweat once sleep did come. When he had finally gotten to shower, the water had been tepid.
He loathed the line-over, the grove of trees and the gust of wind that had reduced him to this. Hated that he wasn’t up in the sky with his team where he belonged. He knew he should be thankful, but today he only felt like sulking. He hadn’t had a meltdown the entire time since the accident.
Until today.
On top of everything, his caboose still hurt like mad. He couldn’t sleep in this place, couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t switch positions period. Exhaustion overtook him to the point he’d turned twitchy. Irritation gnawed every corner of his previously rational mind to scattered shreds. C.O. Petrowski needed to know about this place.
Why send potential SEALs to train at Coronado when they could come right here to Refuge Rehab? Only his military training had pushed him to these edge-of-human-endurance limits. Going on three weeks with ten total hours of sleep wore on him. His skin zinged with discontent and his eyes burned with fatigue. He’d caved one night and had taken a sleeping pill.
Which had caused the nightmares.
His only reprieve from this place was Javier’s daily visits. The kid stopped in on his break from his driver’s ed class across the street. He made Manny laugh with stories of his teacher who showed up with boxes of doughnuts, which he offered student drivers. Every time they took a doughnut, the teacher would knock points off. Apparently, Javier had taken driver’s ed twice and not passed. He was on his third try.
Manny realized early on Javier was the same age his son would have been, had he lived. That had both renewed his grief and awed him with wonder about what Seth would have been like. Would he be the kind of kid who shunned hugging, like Javier, who preferred some fancy teen handshake?
Somehow, having Javier around wrought healing. Manny didn’t understand it, didn’t try to. He just took it as a gift from God for this hard season in his life when he was grounded from the sky and all he held dear.
Manny maneuvered his table to try and hook the crutch and drag it back. Then how would he pick it up?
Thankfully, Joel returned that moment with coffee.
“Hey, grab the twins, will ya?” Manny eyed the crutches.
Joel set the two steaming cups down then picked up the metal devices. He propped them between the wall and the head of Manny’s bed. “Did you think about my offer?”
He had. It had been kind and generous.