Page 10 of Served

A thunderclap shakes the building. Letty’s hand finds my bicep, gripping tight. Christ. Every muscle in my body tenses.

“If it works for Letty, it works for me,” I say, keeping my tone casual despite the riot in my chest.

“Lead the way,” Letty says softly after a few seconds. “We’ve got a project to finish.”

Talia hands me the flashlight. “Be careful on the stairs, now.”

We gather up the various lists and photos, and tuck them all into the folders. The emergency lights cast long shadows when we step into the hallway, turning the familiar inn into something mysterious and intimate.

I lead Letty up the stairs, acutely aware of how close she is following behind me. My prosthetic leg feels heavy—a combination of the stairs, the long day, and my nerves about being alone with her.

My room is at the end of the hall. I fish the key out of my pocket and open the door, ushering Letty in ahead of me. The space is bathed in a soft amber glow from a small lamp on the nightstand—the only one working now that the power’s out.

“Cozy,” Letty says, a breathless edge in her voice.

The room suddenly seems smaller than it did this morning, and I have to fight to get my cock to stand down. The king-sized bed dominates the space, pristinely made with navy blue covers and plump pillows. There’s a small desk by the window, a chair, and not much else. The storm pounds against the glass, lightning occasionally illuminating the room in stark white flashes.

“I’d suggest working at the desk, but the light is better over here,” she says, setting the folders down on the bed. “And we can spread out our materials better that way, too.”

I nod, settling down on the edge of the bed, and she eases down next to me. She sits closer than I expect. This is dangerous.

Our knees brush as we work, and every time the thunder cracks, Letty flinches beside me.

“Not a fan of storms?” I ask softly.

She smiles weakly as she looks up at me, her brown eyes liquid in the lamplight. “It’s more that Jason had a hard time with them. He said they reminded him of mortar fire.” She glances away. “He’d hate seeing me like this.”

I still. “Like what?”

“Scared of my own shadow. Jumping at thunderstorms.” She meets my gaze again, her eyes glistening. “He was…larger than life. Fearless.”

Yes. I know exactly how fearless Gordy was—how he’d charge into firefights grinning like a madman.

“I don’t think fearless has to mean unafraid,” I say carefully. Guilt and grief twist together in my gut with the pressing need to tell her I knew Gordy, but instead I just nod. “It gets better, you know. Not gone, but...manageable.”

She lays a hand on my shoulder, the warmth of her skin sending an electric pulse zipping straight to my cock. “Is that what you did? After...” Her gaze drops to my leg.

I pat the carbon fiber affectionately. “Definitely took some getting used to. First time I showered without it, I face-planted into the tile.”

“Oh god,” she says, wincing.

“Broke my nose, even. Look.” I lean closer, pointing to the faint crook in my bridge and snorting. “Surgeon said it gave me ‘character’.”

Her fingertips brush the scar, and I nearly choke. “I think you’ve got plenty of that already,” she murmurs.

The room tilts as her fingers trace over my jawline. Fuck me.

“Tell me…” She pulls back suddenly as if realizing the intimacy in her touch. “What was the worst part?”

The question guts me. I stare at the lamp for a few long moments, remembering. “Waking up,” I finally murmur. “In the hospital. They’d given me some good drugs, so for a second, I forgot. Then I tried to scratch my ankle…”

She gasps.

“Yeah. Took six orderlies to hold me down when I realized.” I force a smile. “Not my finest moment.”

“So how did you move forward?”

“One day at a time,” I say. “Finding purpose helps. People, too.”

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