His long-put-off reunion with Hector and Anna Valesco had been emotional. Anna had cried, and her tears got to him. Did he really deserve them after he’d run out on the family who’d treated him like a son? Probably not. Repressed guilt ate away at Jed, and he’d felt disoriented after that. Even Hector’s attempt to pass him money and Carla’s searching stare hadn’t roused him enough to make much conversation. It wasn’t long before Dan offered him and Max a ride back to the cabin.
“Don’t be a stranger. I know this isn’t where you want to be, but it’s good to have you home,” Dan had said.
He’d driven away before Jed could articulate an answer. Dazed, Jed had wandered inside the cabin and found Max waiting for him. Max took his bag to his room, made him a cup of some strangely addictive tea and disappeared, leaving him to his own devices. After that, as had become his habit lately, he’d spent the rest of the night watching the rain.
“Jed?”
Jed opened his eyes, startled. It seemed despite his best efforts, his head had found its way back to the table. “Sorry, what?”
Max grinned, but his gaze was concerned. “You really don’t look well. Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“No.”
Unfazed, Max folded his arms across his chest. “How about the CliffsNotes version.”
Jed sat up, considering his options. Kim had asked him similar questions, but he’d brushed her off with little trouble. The three-story townhouse was big enough to avoid her if he needed to, and the children kept her busy. The cabin was much smaller, and from the look on Max’s face, he wasn’t as easy to fool. “How much do you already know?”
Max shrugged. “Not much. Just that you split town a long time ago. I didn’t know you were a soldier until you got hurt. Nick never talks about you, though I guess I know why now.”
Jed snorted. They’d had the gay conversation already, and it was pretty obvious why Nick had kept it a secret. Time hadn’t healed his inbred intolerance. “Did he tell you what happened to me?”
“No. The soldiers who came to the house said you’d been shot and caught in an explosion. They didn’t say where or how, and Nick was gone before we could ask him.”
“That pretty much covers it,” Jed said dryly. He had no idea if Nick had been told about his preexisting gastroparesis diagnosis in the military hospital. If he had, he’d kept it to himself. “I can walk well enough now, but….”
“Sometimes it hurts like hell?”
“Something like that.”
Max shifted in his chair, relaxing his arms and leaning back. “Is it getting better?”
“It’s been worse, but I’m pretty much stuck with it, for the time being at least.”
Affinity flashed in Max’s eyes. “That can’t be any fun. There must be stuff you can do to make it better.”
“Probably.” Jed reached for the cooled tea and took a tiny, experimental sip. “I just haven’t figured out what it is yet.”
Max made a noncommittal noise; he seemed distracted. Jed waited, reading him with practiced eyes. Years of analyzing human behavior had taught him that, given enough time, someone like Max would always say what he needed to say.
He didn’t have to wait long.
“What happened to the bullet? Did it go right through your leg?”
“Yep. Through my thigh.”
Max chewed on his lip, his head tilted to one side, and this time, Jed didn’t have the patience to wait. He knew exactly what Max wanted because he’d fended off the same request from Dan. Only difference was, Max seemed to be searching for a diplomatic way to ask.
“Want to see?”
Max’s eyes widened, but Jed didn’t wait for a response. He stood, balancing himself on the table and reached for the waistband of his sweatpants.
Max pushed his chair back and held out his arms. “Lean on me.”
Jed hesitated. It wasn’t his nature to lean on anyone, but Max held firm, taking Jed’s hand from the table and lifting his arm over his shoulders. “Okay?”
In answer, Jed eased one side of his sweatpants over his hip and halfway down his thigh. He reached for the hem of his boxers, grateful for Max’s steadying hands, and rolled the material up to reveal the circular scar on the outside of his leg. With gritted teeth, he twisted to reveal the matching mark on the inside.
Max leaned forward, catching Jed off guard. He’d expected a reaction. Pity, horror, disgust—he didn’t much care which—but he was sorely unprepared for the sensation of a rough, calloused fingertip tracing the length of the surgical scar he’d failed to mention.