Page 49 of Defending What is Mine

* * *

Sam: Present—One day after Jack’s transfer stateside

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain. It’s now ten minutes shy of eleven a.m. in Baltimore. We’re making great time on this beautiful Tuesday morning and should arrive at our destination in about thirty minutes. If my mental math is correct, that ought to put us roughly ten minutes ahead of schedule. On behalf of myself and the rest of the crew, I’d like to thank you again for flying with us. And we hope to see you again soon.”

Careful not to turn my head even a millimeter, I flip the page of the magazine I’m pretending to read while I casually glimpse Chet from the corner of my eye. Phew! His cowboy hat is resting over his face. I quietly exhale a sigh of relief. What is it about being around Chet Wilde that compels me to want to interrupt every moment of quiet with awkward conversation? So the man isn’t a talker. What’s wrong with that?

Come on, take a breath and relax already. You can do this. You survived the eerily quiet drive to the airport with him. You survived the hour and a half of silence in the terminal (thanks again for that, stupid weather delay.) And now you’ve almost survived an entire flight next to him. Sure, till now he’s been awake the entire time, has exchanged a hundred or so cringe-worthy glances, and has spoken exactly zero words...but whatev’s...you’ve only got thirty minutes left. Surely you can endure another hour or so. Besides, what choice do you have? This isn’t a vacation. And you’re not doing this for you...this is about Jack.

My stomach groans, unsettled by the looming reality that ready or not, Jack and I will be face to face by lunchtime. What do I say when I see him? What will I do? Should I be angry, or understanding? On the one hand, I feel like I’ve earned the right to have a chip on my shoulder. But on the other, I know I’ll never understand what he’s been through. What he must still be going through. What will he say? What will he do? So many questions, each causing my gut to summersault and twist all over itself.

* * *

Jack: Present—One day after his transfer stateside

“Knock, knock. Captain Wilde?” a deep voice calls from the other side of the door as it slowly creeps open.

“Go away.”

The masculine voice chuckles softly. “I promise not to stay long, if that’s any consolation.” A tall, impeccably groomed man wearing a set of baby blue scrubs stops just inside the doorway with a chart in his hand. “Looks like you just moved up to your room here a few hours ago,” he says as he closes the folder, turning his attention to me. “Are you getting settled in?”

“I might…If people stopped barging in every twenty minutes.”

The man’s head rears back slightly as the heat of my words hits him from across the room. But he brushes it off just as fast and a jovial smile returns to his face. “Well, I can certainly understand wanting a little space for yourself, but I’m afraid if the hospital offered a do not disturb sign, our rehab success rates wouldn’t look nearly as good as they do.”

I nod my head. “Yeah, I get it. As long as I’m here, I’m not really a person. Just a statistic.”

“Aw, come on, Captain. Let’s not kick off our relationship like that. That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

“Relationship? What relationship? I don’t even know your name.”

Bringing the palm of his hand to his chest, he dips his head slightly as he responds. “I’m Derek. And I’ll have the pleasure of helping you with your physical therapy while you’re here.”

“Alright, Derek. Nice to meet you. Now, if you don’t mind, I could really use some of that space we were just talking about.”

Derek chuckles again, then clears his throat. “Whatever you need, Captain Wilde. You be sure and get some rest tonight, cause you’re gonna need your strength tomorrow.”

I give him two sarcastic thumbs up and roll my eyes as he heads for the door.

Shit.

I glance at the clock. Ten minutes to eleven. Another hour till lunch. I let out a groan and mumble to myself. “Maybe if I’m lucky today’s meal will come with a plastic knife I can use to slit my wrists.”

---