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Desertion

Page 49

“Just come,” I say, needing her to see, rather than be told. She nods and follows me to the main entrance.

“Hey Betty.” I smile to the older nurse behind the reception desk and sign both Bell and I in.

“Ahhh, Mr. Carter, how are you, dear?” She returns my smile before looking over at Bell. “And who do we have here today?”

“Hi, I’m Bell.” Bell steps forward and waves her fucking cute wave. Jesus, everything she does is cute.

“Oh, she’s a pretty one, Jesse. She your girlfriend?”

“No,” I say, looking over at Bell for a reaction. We haven’t labeled our fuck-slash-friendship relationship. I’ve never had someone to call my woman. Never wanted to either. Even if Bell makes me want things I shouldn’t have, I’m not about to claim her now for the sake of Betty.

“Mmmh,” Betty murmurs and I ignore her as I hand over the visitor log.

“How is he doing today?” I ask, aware Betty will know. I’ve been coming everyday the last three weeks. I’m familiar with all the nurses and know his schedule, but sometimes, he can be up, while other times he will be down.

“He had a bad night with pain last night. He might perk up now that you’re here.” I nod, take Bell’s hand and guide her down the corridor to Conner’s room in silence.

“What are we doing here, Jesse?” she stops and asks before I can push open the door.

“I need to show you what I’m responsible for. What I live with every day.” She doesn’t get it right now, but she will.

“Okay, Jesse,” She nods and I turn the handle and push open the door.

The room is dark. A small amount of light comes from the bathroom to the left of the room. I know he’s probably sleeping and he hates being woken, but I’ve had the balls to bring Bell today, so I’m not backing out now.

“You awake, Conner?” Conner’s sleeping form shifts as I flick the light switch.

“What the fuck do you want, asshole?” he yawns, shifting his head into the pillow.

“Language, fucker. You’ve got a visitor.” I look down at Bell, watching her take in the room.

“Umm, hi. I’m Bell.” Bell steps forward when Conner lifts his head off the pillow.

“The fuck, Jesse? Some notice when you bring in ladies, asshole,” he says, then looks back to check out Bell. I don’t blame him. Bell is fucking hot, but I second-guess my decision to bring her here when I see the glint in the asshole’s eye.

“Conner, Bell. Bell, Conner,” I introduce the two with less enthusiasm than I’m feeling.

“Nice to meet you, Bell.” He smiles a crooked smile and tries to extend his good arm out. It takes a few tries before he is able to extend it all the way. Bell steps forward and takes his hand in hers.

“You too, Conner.” Her smile deepens, moving her dimple across her cheek.

“What are you doing here, asshole?” Conner turns his gaze to me.

“Just in the area.” I shrug, not prepared to tell him I brought in Bell to show her what an asshole I am.

“And you thought you would bring in a pretty lady to stare at the freak.” Conner seethes on the word freak.

“Oh, God. No. We would never,” Bell gasps, not understanding Conner and his humor.

“I’m just fucking with you, Bell.” Conner beams his grin back at her. Yeah this was a bad idea.

“Quit looking at her, fucker,” I grumble under my breath, but I know he heard me.

“So, Bell, what are you doing with this asshole?” Conner slowly asks. I can see he’s about to have some fun, and I don’t blame him. I would too. I just hope he doesn’t push too far.

“He kind of dragged me,” she sasses, and she’s right. I dragged her, but only for her own good.

“Of course he did.” Conner laughs, firing a you’re-so-full-of-shit look my way. “So what do you do, Bell?”

“I’m a nurse.”

“Jesus, Jesse. You brought me a hot nurse. Do you hate me that much?” At his dig, my smile falls away, and I can’t help but hate myself a little more. “Take a joke, Jesse.” He laughs at my reaction so I force a chuckle.

“Don’t mind him, Bell, he’s got some misplaced guilt when it comes to me. I just like fucking with him,” Conner tells Bell.

“I think I’m getting that,” Bell murmurs and looks up at me.

“But he’s wrong.” He shakes his head, getting pissed off. “He has nothing to feel guilty about. Fucking life happens. Shit happens, man.”

“Can I ask what happened?” Bell steps closer to the bed.

“Afghan, ‘07.” He describes it like one might reminisce about a summer vacation. “Our convoy took a hit. Lost one leg that day, been fighting for the other ever since.” Conner pushes back his sheet, exposing both of his legs, one stumped off above the knee, the other stumped just below the knee.

Conner lost his right leg instantly when our convoy was hit; we both knew he was in trouble. But thankfully, they were able to salvage his left leg. However, five years on, after extensive rehab and surgery, he’s never regained full use. It was only a month ago that the doctors and Conner agreed for more drastic measures and moved forward with an elective amputation.

Bell doesn’t react, just nods and pulls up a chair next to the bed.

“Thank you for your service,” she finally says after a few minutes, and I realize this excursion is not going to end how I thought. I should have known better. A woman like Bell, even after everything she has been through, she wouldn’t turn away from this. From me.

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