Paradise Valley (Virgin River #7)(50)

A car pulled up in front of the barracks, a woman jumped out of the driver’s side and ran around to the passenger door. Her skirt was short and flouncy, her knit top snug, legs long and shapely. And man, what an ass—round and tight and pretty. Aaron’s woman. Aaron was one of his roommates, about a week ahead of him in this rehab program.

She held out her hand to Aaron and helped him stay steady while he stepped out on his prosthetic leg, the preparatory kind. And once he had himself balanced in the open car door, he pulled his woman against him and she molded there, planting her lips on his, her firm br**sts pressed up against him, his arms around her waist with one hand slipping down to that fabulous butt to pull her even closer.

Aaron was about thirty and this was his fiancée. He was one happy-go-lucky son of a bitch, like nothing much was wrong. He had also been wounded in Iraq, but he hadn’t been blown up. He took a bullet and it shattered his knee so catastrophically they had to amputate, yet to listen to him, talk to him, you’d think this was some minor f**king inconvenience. Rick vacillated between admiring him and hating him.

While Aaron kissed his girl, Rick’s voice-mail message alert bleeped. But Rick watched Aaron. He wondered what it would feel like to believe he had the right to do that to a woman, with a woman.

Aaron had said he was going to run some wedding-planning errands with his girl and if he was real lucky, he’d be able to talk her into some afternoon delight at a hotel that was handicap friendly, haw haw haw. He looked pretty delighted, pretty relaxed. Apparently that had worked out for him.

“Want me to walk you in, baby?” the fiancée asked.

He grabbed for his cane out of the front seat. “Nah, sweetheart, I got it. I’ll talk to you tonight.” Then he grinned. “Glad we got everything taken care of.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said, giving him another quick kiss. “Practice up now so you can come home.”

“You bet I will,” he said, smiling.

Aw, Jesus, Rick thought. Can we get any sweeter? You’re a goddamn cripple! Have you noticed, crip, you haven’t got a real leg there? And the one they gave you—it’s not working that good.

She held his hand, backing away from him so slowly like they couldn’t bear to be apart. Rick felt it squeeze his chest. Vaguely, in the back of his mind, it reminded him of the way he’d pulled away from Liz when he said goodbye to her before leaving for Iraq.

He squashed the memory.

Aaron walked slowly toward Rick, who sat on the bench outside the front door of the barracks, his walker beside him.

“How you doing, Rick?” Aaron asked.

“Great,” Rick said, because he knew how the game was played. You stay up! You stay positive! You act like getting this fake piece-of-shit leg was your f**king dream come true! “How was your afternoon? Or do I even need to ask?”

“Good,” Aaron said, not taking the bait. “We got some things done. Sandy has this whole wedding business nailed. All I do is say, looks good to me.” He smiled a bit wistfully. “She’s so great.”

“Maybe you had a little afternoon delight, too,” Rick suggested.

“Any time I get to spend with Sandy is perfect,” he said.

“Just out of curiosity, isn’t it kind of difficult?”

Aaron stood right in front of him, forcing him to look up. “What, exactly?”

“You know what.”

“Sex?”

Rick was speechless for a second. He’d rather speak in code, but Aaron was pretty upfront. Especially with these issues. “Uh, yeah. That.”

Aaron laughed. “It was a lot harder to learn how to take a shower.”

“Where’s the leg go?” Rick heard himself ask.

“Right up against the wall, pal. It’s not real soft and cuddly. But I get some very fine traction without it.” Then he chuckled. “You worried about that, my brother?”

“Just curious.”

“Then let me make this easy for you. I take it off. That seems to be the popular solution for most men. And I’m going to get this thing broken in as quick as I can. I want to walk Sandy down the aisle and dance with her at the reception. It might not be Fred Astaire style, but if I don’t fall on my ass, I’ll be damn happy.”

Rick grinned, but he thought, you simple fool. You screw with a stump and limp around the dance floor like an idiot and you’re damn happy? Fool. “Good for you,” Rick said, because that’s what he was expected to say.

“You have a girl, don’t you, Rick?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “No girl.”

“I thought I heard there was a girl back home.”

“Nah. I dated some, that’s all. No girl.”

“Well, then,” Aaron said, grinning. “You have something to look forward to. I didn’t find my Sandy till I was twenty-six.”

And didn’t you have a couple of legs then? Rick wanted to ask. But he said, “Sure. Yeah.”

When Aaron had gone inside, Rick checked his message.

“Hi, Rick, it’s me. You never pick up and I guess I stopped expecting you to call back, but I just wanted to call you anyway, tell you I think about you every second. I’m graduating in less than two months, can you believe that? This girl you had to beg to stay in school? And guess what? I have all As. But I think I told you that already. Maybe a hundred times. That is, if you listen to the messages. I don’t know—maybe you just delete them. But anyway, I know you’re going to be out of there before too much longer, and it would just be so…awesome…if you came to graduation. I’d be so proud to have you come. I guess I won’t know anything about that until you call me back. Hey!” she said, changing her tone. “I sent you a little something. I hope you like it.”