Masters at Arms (Rescue Me Saga, #0.5)(46)

“Coming around. Should be headed home in a week or so if the infection doesn’t come back.” Doc took a series of shallow breaths as if the exertion of walking and talking had taken a toll on him.

“Take a load off, Doc.”

“Thanks.” He pulled the chair closer to the bed. “How about you? Any news on when you’ll head home?”

Home. He had no home to go to anymore. He’d always dreamed about having a home with Savannah. But that dream had faded one November day on a rooftop in Fallujah.

“Nah. They say I’m headed eventually to the Naval Medical Center near Pendleton for rehab.”

The two remained silent for a moment. Doc broke the solitude and asked, “Then what?”

Stunned by the question, Damián just sat there and stared back at him. He really had no f*cking clue what he’d do after that. He didn’t even see himself finishing rehab. What would be the point? Damián shrugged.

“Don’t you have a girl waiting for you?”

Damián looked away. “No. There was one once, but she was out of my league.”

“You’re a Marine now. You’re going to find you’re in a league of your own. You’ll have women falling at your feet.”

Damián met Doc’s gaze and said, “Foot, you mean.” He pointed at the stub.

“Nobody’s perfect. You have a lot more going for you than looks and a body. The right woman will overlook shit like that if she really loves you.” Doc ended his speech by sucking several more breaths into his lungs.

Damián wished the man wouldn’t get so riled up. No way would he change his mind. First chance he had, he’d put an end to this miserable life. When Doc caught his breath, he asked, “Does she even know what’s happened?”

“No. We haven’t kept in touch.”

“Maybe if she knew…”

“I don’t even f*cking know where she is!” Damián regretted his tone as soon as the words came out. “Sorry, Doc. It was nothing more than a day of hot sex with a Latino on the beach. Let’s just drop it.”

“Orlando, you have more integrity, courage, and honor than anyone she’ll ever meet again.”

Those words burned in his craw more than any others. “I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I didn’t do anything courageous. Sarge is dead. You got wounded trying to save my sorry ass. You guys are the heroes, not me.”

Damián’s chest hurt now, too. He put his forearm over his eyes to hide the embarrassing tears that sprang from nowhere. “I’d like to get some sleep now.” He knew his voice sounded ungrateful, but didn’t care.

“I’ll see you later.”

Madre de Dios. I wish everyone would f*cking leave me alone to just rot and die.

Courage? Integrity? Honor? No f*cking way. He was nothing but a lousy Chicano scared shitless. What the hell was he going to do now?

*

Marc slowly made his way back to his room. Sweat broke out on his forehead and his legs shook at the effort. Just this short excursion left him feeling as weak as a runt-of-the-litter gattino refused its mama’s tit. When would he experience the simple pleasure of filling his lungs with air again?

His talk with Orlando haunted him. The kid was f*cking wrong if he thought women would never want him again. Maybe that one girl had broken up with him, but that was before he’d become a Marine. Women loved Marines. Especially heroes like Orlando.

Right now, Orlando’s feelings of hopelessness worried Marc the most. He needed to get through to him before the kid was shipped back to San Diego. Chances of seeing him again after that were slim.

He’d talk with the nurses to be sure they stayed on top of the man’s depression. He knew they were monitoring him already. Depression was common for an amputee. But Orlando meant a lot to him. They’d trained together to be recon Marines. They’d even played hard together. He remembered the redhead at the L.A. fetish club. Orlando didn’t need a foot to please a woman.

Dio, he didn’t want the kid to become another suicide casualty.

Marc entered his room and saw his bed ahead of him, hoping he’d get there before his legs gave out. So f*cking weak. So close…

“Marco!”

Mama? Marc turned slowly to find both of his parents standing in the doorway.

Shit.

“Mama? Papa? What are you doing here?” They had a business to run. This was the height of the skiing season. His mother came toward him. Dio.

“When we heard you were injured…” Were those tears in her eyes? She reached up and stroked his cheek, and he just marveled at what looked like real tears streaming down Mama’s plump face. For him?

“We’ve been waiting for you here in Germany….” Her voice cracked and she wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

“Waiting for you to get out of the hospital in Iraq,” Papa finished.

Marc noticed the dark circles under both their eyes. Their clothes looked as if they’d slept in them. How long had they been waiting here? Why hadn’t they booked a hotel room?

“I’m fine. You didn’t have to come all this way.”

“They said you almost died,” Mama said.

Who told her that? He hadn’t been that bad off.

“They said you saved a man’s life,” she said, then smiled, her mouth quivering.