Page 46 of Defending What is Mine

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jack:Present—February (One day before transferring stateside)

I flip onto my side, careful to avoid glimpsing the time as I struggle for comfort in this prison my nurses call a hospital bed. After another day wasted on P.T. (physical therapy) my body is exhausted and desperate for rest. But, given that—after what’s sure to be a long and painful journey—I’ll be stateside by this time tomorrow, my exhaustion has locked horns with my anxiety and neither has shown signs of capitulating.

If I could set aside all emotion and allow myself to think about it logically, it’s a relief. Knowing that whatever else the universe may have in store, in less than twenty-four hours, I’ll be home. Finally, accessible to the love and support of friends and family.

Though, if my emotions do have any say in the matter, it also means that, in less than twenty-four hours, I’ll finally be accessible to the things which being over here has allowed me to avoid.

Like...friends...and family.

Finally, I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on my breathing.

Hopeful it might allow me to think of anything other than her.

* * *

Coming home has always been a special feeling. Like a desperately needed breath of air after staying under the water so long your lungs are ready to burst. Or serendipitously reconnecting with an old friend after losing touch for far too long. But today? This takes it to another level. My boots haven’t even stepped onto Colorado soil yet and my heart is racing like mad, anticipating the moment I see her again. As I wait in line at the back of the plane, my stomach churns with excitement, impatient for my turn to depart. Caught between feelings of boredom and excitement, I pull out my phone and re-read the messages Sam sent this morning.

Sam: I can hardly believe today is finally here! After all these months apart.

Sam: I’ll be waiting on the other side of security. Can’t wait to wrap my arms around you again.

Sam: P.S. In case it isn’t completely clear…I’m sooo FREAKING excited!

Truth is, I can hardly believe it myself. I can’t wait to hold her again. To kiss her again. I want to do everything in my power to show her just how much she means to me. Six months is a long time to be separated from the one you love. Longer still when that separation happens at the start of a new relationship (what my brothers mockingly refer to as the goo-goo-ga-ga phase).

Not that it matters now. Now that I’m home, everything is going to be different. Just a few more minutes until we’re reunited on the other side of security and all the stress of these last few months can begin to fade away.

When I eventually reach the front, I thank the crew then anxiously step off the plane, acutely aware of each step as I search for signs of the still very foreign feeling prosthetic hidden beneath my uniform. As the sights and sounds of the terminal come into view, I break left, careful not to let myself hobble as I pass an older couple meandering ahead of me. The way they lovingly hold each other’s hands while plodding along like they’re out for a leisurely Sunday drive brings thoughts of Sam into my mind—and I’m not even unnerved by what they signify. I want to grow old with her. I want her by my side for the remainder of my days.

I push my way through the crowded terminal, reminding myself as I go to walk at a normal speed. But with little apparent effect. The only things keeping me from a full sprint right now are the unbalanced weight of my duffel bag against my back, and the fear of miscalculating a step with this goddamned fake leg.

As I pass an escalator, I glimpse my reflection through the mirrored glass wall and notice a stupid smile sprawling over my face. What is wrong with me? Am I giddy? Is this what giddy feels like? I shake my head, embarrassed by the thought of looking like a fool—in public no less. “Lock it up, Wilde,” I mumble as I readjust the duffel on my shoulder while trying not to knock into anyone with it.

With each step, confidence in my ability to communicate what I so desperately need Sam to hear wanes. What do you say to a person who’s spent every moment of the past six months invading your thoughts? What words could ever do justice in expressing how the very sight of her soothes the monster who lurks in your soul?

Worry becomes doubt and doubt grows into fear. Until I see her, beautiful as ever, standing against the wall, waving wildly in my direction.

And then the only feeling that remains is joy.

“Hey, stranger.” Sam looks up with a coy smile. “Been a long time.”

“Too long,” I say as I drop my bag and slip my arms around her waist, lifting her off her feet so I can hold her tight. “You have no idea how long I’ve needed this.”

I lower Sam back to her feet as I scan the vicinity for Vanessa. “Say, I know I’ve been gone awhile, but aren’t you missing something? Something about yea big”—I hold my hand at Vanessa’s height—“something I hardly recall ever seeing you without.”

“I don’t think so.” Sam’s brow crinkles with confusion before understanding shines through her smile. “Oh, you mean Nessa? Well…you know how expensive short-term parking can be.” She thumbs behind her toward the exits. “She’s got the car, doing loops around the airport.”

Totally falling for it, my head jerks back in surprise.

“Easy, cowboy. She’s got my cell. I told her we’d call from yours when we were ready to be picked up.” Sam watches me carefully, until she seems satisfied that I’m still completely in the dark, at which point she doubles over laughing.

I finally catch up. “Wow. That’s messed up, chick.”

Still cackling, Sam looks up. “I can’t believe…” She gasps for air. “I can’t believe you fell for that. What kind of mother must you think I am?” She gasps again.

“Oh yeah? We haven’t been this close in months and this is how you want to remember this moment? Okay, so you like to joke and have a laugh? Well please allow me to help.” I lightly tickle up and down Sam’s sides and she squeals and shrieks in delight. When I look up and notice the attention being drawn by her cackles, I blush with embarrassment. “I guess we should probably take this outside,” I say, extending a hand to help her off the floor.

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