Page 8 of Weston

With Corey’s help, Wes got in and sat down. Soap, shampoo, a razor, shaving cream and a washcloth were all within reach, as well as a towel to dry off. “Thanks, Cor,” Wes murmured, hating that he needed help with something so simple, but knowing it was just a fact of life for him.

“I’ll grab your shorts. Need anything else?”

Wes shook his head. Asking Corey for help didn’t sit well with him, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Alright then. You know where I am.”

Corey pulled the door shut behind him and left Wes to bathe in private. After removing his clothes, he found the right water temperature and used the handheld showerhead to rinse the jungle grime away. He soaped up then sat back and let the cool water wash over him, his thoughts drifting back to the beginning, right after his life-altering injury.

After returning to the States, Wes had been transported directly to Walter Reed Memorial Hospital. He knew exactly what that meant: Do not pass go, do not go home, do not collect a normal paycheck ever again. Through all of the trials and tribulations, Ellie had been his salvation. Immediately after the amputation, the risk of infection had been a constant threat, one that could’ve resulted in them having to cut off more of his leg. The thought had fucking terrified him.

Luckily that worst case scenario didn’t come to pass, but there were plenty of other demons to deal with. The sweating and sores were just the icing on his shit cake.

Depression had set in after Wes realized how much harder his life was going to be. Simple things required so much more effort, and the challenges and struggles were nearly overwhelming at first. Everything was a goddamn tripping hazard, getting up in the middle of the night to pee was a major production and stairs were a bitch. In the beginning, bathing took an hour and he’d insisted he didn’t need help. Of course that was bullshit. He’d slipped, fallen and hit his damn head. Ellie had panicked then instantly tore him a new one. After thedoctor gave him ten stitches in his stubborn noggin, she’d kissed him and made him promise to let her help.

When his world had gone dark and turned into the blackest, most hopeless pit of despair and utter shit, Ellie became his rock. If it weren’t for her, pushing and cheering him on, he wouldn’t have made it.

Adjusting to his new prosthetic hadn’t been easy, either. But Ellie had been there to help him literally every step of the way. She’d been his angel—positive, encouraging and so loving. For the entire duration of his stay, she never left his side. As he endured countless surgeries, grueling physical therapy and endless counseling for months and months on end, she held his hand, wiped away his tears of self-pity and frustration, and told him how very much she loved him and believed he could get through this challenge like everything else.

But, he hadn’t wanted to rely on her for everything constantly. He knew he needed to learn how to take care of things himself and regain his independence. So he pushed himself harder than ever before, more than BUD/S and all of his SEAL training combined, determined to figure it all out and live his very best life. With Ellie at his side, they’d done exactly that. Nowadays, he rarely gave a second thought to his reduced mobility, fast fatigue and the way people stared. It was his normal. However, he’d anticipated her being beside him forever and that loss would never be anything but abnormal.

Wes shut the water off and reached for the towel. As he dried off, Corey knocked, then opened the door and tossed him his shorts. “If you need help putting those on, I’ll get Chaz or Lex to do the honors. I love you, man, but I don’t want to see your junk.”

“Fuck off,” Wes grumbled, and Corey chuckled.

After some maneuvering, Wes pulled the shorts up around his waist and sighed. He was fucking exhausted. Luckily, he was trained to endure pain and discomfort longer than the average person. And although he’d never give up the search, he hoped to Christ they found their target sooner rather than later.

???

The plan was to head out at sunrise, but Wes woke up earlier than the others and used some of the massage therapy techniques he’d learned to prepare himself for the grueling day ahead. Thankfully, proper attention last night had taken care of the blisters he’d developed. Now, sitting in a chair, he rubbed an antibiotic ointment over his stump, massaging gently. It was a highly effective method of reducing nerve and underlying tissue sensitivity. And, let’s face it, he needed all the help he could get.

In the other bed, Corey began to mumble in his sleep. Wes didn’t pay much attention until his friend started to grow louder and more disturbed, thrashing back and forth.

“Shit,” Wes swore. He was willing to bet Corey was having a nightmare about their mission gone wrong so many years earlier. The one that haunted him, that he refused to forgive himself over. Pushing up, Wes hopped over to the bed and gave Corey a shake. “Hey, Cor, wake up.”

Corey jumped up like he’d just gotten a bayonet in the ass. “Fuck,” he hissed, swiping a hand through his messy hair. Once he realized where he was, he heaved out a long breath. “Sorry. Fucking nightmares.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Wes murmured and squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “Damn, we’re a fucked-up pair, huh?”

Corey choked back a half-snort, half-laugh. “The worst.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Just reflected on their shitty turns of luck.

Wes finally glanced down at his large watch. “We leave in thirty. I need to eat a power bar and finish getting ready.”

“Roger that. Hopefully we have better luck today.” His attention dropped to Wes’ stump. “I know you don’t want to hear this, Murph, but if you need to sit down and take a break at any time, we will.”

No, he didn’t want to hear it, or be the reason the team had to slow down and take it easy, but Corey was right. Wes was pushing fifty. He didn’t possess the strength he used to have and everything took him a little longer to do. As much as he hated to admit it, he had a disability. Even so, he’d die before he let it stop him.

“I know,” Wes said, forcing himself to be realistic. A five-minute break after a few hours of humping through the jungle wasn’t going to hurt anything. “Thanks, Cor.”

They bumped knuckles, then Corey headed off to the bathroom while Wes finished preparing himself, mentally and physically, for the arduous mission ahead.

Once he and Corey were ready, they met the others in the living room. As they sucked down some coffee and mapped out their search area, Brand’s phone beeped with a text message. He opened it up and a slow grin spread across his face.

“Mitch just saved us a lot of work, boys,” Brand stated and looked up from his phone.

“What’s up?” Lex asked.

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