“Is this from the same injury?”
Jed swallowed hard. “Yeah, they had to put some pins in the bone and repair a bunch of nerves, but….”
“It’ll never be quite the same?”
“Something like that.”
Max withdrew his hand and grinned. “You say that a lot.” When Jed failed to answer, Max gently pried his clothes from his fingers and pulled his sweatpants back up his leg. “Are you okay getting around?”
“Hmm?”
“Is there anything I can do to help you?”
“Nope.” Jed fingered his waistband. Did he really just do that? “I just have to get back on my feet. Rehab, eat well. The usual shit.”
Max slipped out from under Jed’s arm and returned to his own seat. “Well, I can probably help you with that. I don’t eat meat, or junk food. Sugar makes me loopy, and additives make my seizures worse.”
“Is that why you grow your own food?”
“Mostly. It saves money too. The boat shed only covers the rent.”
Jed picked up his cup and carefully maneuvered himself to place it in the sink. “I can pay the rent.”
“I don’t need you to pay the rent.”
Jed hid his grin. He’d learned over the last few days that Max was fiercely independent and belligerent when he felt that was threatened. “I know that, but I need to pay my way. How about I pay the rent and you pay the bills?”
“How about you pay your own bills?”
“I’m a crippled veteran, babe. I don’t have any.” Jed winced. The casual endearment had slipped out like he’d said it a thousand times. He hadn’t. He couldn’t recall referring to anyone asbabe, let alone another man. Damn fucking tramadol.
Max seemed taken aback too, but he recovered quickly. “Let’s talk about it another day. Want to watch a movie?”
“Don’t you have boat shit to do?” Jed shot back, eager to steer the conversation away from himself.
“Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. Besides, watch this.” Max walked to the back door and whistled for Flo. She followed him halfway, looked back at Jed, and whined. “See? You’re giving off bad vibes. She doesn’t want to leave you alone.”
Jed wasn’t pleased that even the dog saw through him, but he didn’t have the energy to argue. Lacking any better ideas, he followed Max into the living room, watched him build a fire, and promptly fell asleep on the couch.
He woke sometime later to a dim room that told him he’d been asleep for a good few hours. He shifted carefully, testing himself, but all things considered, he felt pretty good. The comforting smell of wood smoke reached him. He let his eyes close again, but despite the soothing warmth of the fire, his mind drifted, led astray by the lingering narcotics, to the most memorable Thanksgiving he’d had in years.
Somewhere beneath lingering exhaustion and nausea, Jed could still feel the rage he’d felt when Nick had handed him the phone and he’d heard his ailing father’s slurred voice.
“Happy Thanksgiving, son. It’s good to have you home.”
Jed clenched his fists. Was the old bastard fucking kidding? It didn’t meld well with the parting words of the last conversation they’d had.
“Get your faggot ass out of my house. You’re no son of mine.”
It was the culmination of years of conflict. He had more than a decade of real war to compare it to, but his childhood home was still the worst battleground he’d ever endured. Years later, after an evening spent watching Nick tear his own family apart in much the same way, hearing Frank Cooper’s voice was too much.
Perhaps it was a twisted sense of nostalgia that had driven him to put himself between Nick and Kim. Max seemed so certain Nick wasn’t violent, but there was something about the way he spoke to Kim, something horribly familiar. Kim was a firecracker—tough and brave—but when the time came, she’d be no match for a man twice her size. Jed had spent his whole childhood watching howthatpanned out.
Once outside, it hadn’t taken long to defuse Nick’s belligerence. Jed had honed that skill over the years. Border crossings, guerrilla roadblocks, a besieged city marketplace. The scenery changed, but the method remained the same. He was good at it, always had been, and when the fight in Nick had descended into self-loathing, he’d had to swallow his disgust.
Movement brought Jed back to the present. He shifted and propped himself up on one elbow.
Max looked over his shoulder as he stoked the fire. “I thought you were asleep.”