Page 90 of Proof Of Life
Brandt laughs and shakes his head. “How many times do I have to remind you we're allies now, Professor?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Thank God they replaced it with the Pershing. It had a better cannon, thicker armor, and better suspension and mobility.” I reach for the knob to turn the radio down. “Can you imagine if we had that thing from the get-go? Maybe the war wouldn’t have lasted so long.”
I check my phone for messages from Mandy, but there’s nothing.
“Feel better?”
Fucker. My heart rate has slowed and I’m not on the verge of hyperventilating. He totally played me. “Yeah,” I chuff.
“You know he’s going to be okay, right?” I blow out a deep breath. “Tell me, what’s the worst that can happen?” he asks.
“I don’t know. That he doesn’t fucking wake up?”
“He’s going to wake up. What’s the next worst thing?”
“He gets an infection?”
“No, because we’re going to take great care of him, and make sure he takes great care of himself. Next?”
I’m quickly running out of arguments, and now we’re down to the real truth. “That he doesn’t see an improvement and his self-esteem and confidence plummets.” My shoulders droop with defeat because I’ve convinced myself this is a huge probability.
“I love you.” His words surprise me, making my head snap up. “I love that you care about people. He’s going to be fine because he has you and me and the Bitches and Riggs and Brewer, and we won’t let him plummet.”
What would I do without this man? “I love you, too.”
We pull up in front of Mandy’s apartment, and he hops in the backseat. He doesn’t have much to say on the drive over to the hospital, which is understandable, so we fill the silence by playing the radio. Brandt’s fingers tap the steering wheel in time to the beat. When the song segues into a commercial, a beaming smile spreads across his face.
“What?” I ask, instantly wary.
“Do you feel it, West?”
Fuck. I should have seen it coming. “I’m sorry, Mandy. He can’t help it. I think he suffered residual TBI in the blast.”
“I feel the need…The need for speed,” Brandt shouts, rolling down the windows.
He hits ‘play’ on the CD player, and the track changes to Danger Zone by Kenny Loggins. I’m not even annoyed because the timing couldn’t be more perfect. So I roll my window down and sing along with him, word for word. Eventually, Mandy joins in, and when I catch a glimpse of him in the side-view mirror, he’s smiling.
Thank God.
We park our asses in the waiting room at the hospital while Mandy gets checked in and prepped for surgery. One by one, the Bitches wander in. First Stiles, then Jax, then McCormick and Riggs.
All at once it hits me, the reality of where I landed and what I have. When I was recovering in the hospital, I thought my life was over, that I’d lost everything. I’d never felt more desolate and lost in my entire life. I was even afraid to cling to Brandt for fear that he’d leave, too.
I’ve seen so many retired and disabled vets fall through the cracks, fall by the wayside, and get lost. Forgotten. My greatest fear was to end up like them.
Alone and lonely.
I never could have imagined I’d have an entire support group of friends who treated me and Brandt like brothers. Guys who showed up on your worst day to hold your hand. A real family. And what’s more, not just a best friend, but one who loves me to the bottom of my soul. A man who wants to spend his life attached to me. Tears gather in my eyes and when I blink, they spill down my cheeks.
I’m so fucking grateful for what I have, something I swore just months ago I’d never be able to say.
“Okay,” Brandt says lightly, “enough. Pull it out.”
“No! Not here. Go to the bathroom,” McCormick jokes.
Idiot. I know what Brandt’s referring to. Reaching into my go bag, I pull out the worn Mad Libs I carry everywhere.
“Adjective that rhymes with easy.”