Married To A Marine

“Hey, I’m not that bad a cook,” she protested. “So I overcooked the eggs a little.”

“I meant that stupid hero thing. It’s not true.”

“It’s not true that you rescued a toddler from the back seat of a burning car after you witnessed a car accident near Camp Lejeune?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Justice growled.

“Fine.” She shrugged and sat down across from him, digging into her own breakfast. “We can discuss something else. Like how much you love my gourmet cooking.”

“The eggs are good,” he grudgingly admitted.

“Oh, my! I do declare that such flowery praise will surely go to my head.” She dramatically placed the back of her hand across her forehead in the manner of a swooning Southern miss.

Instead of acknowledging her mocking comment, he said, “How long will it take you to review my medical records?”

“Not long. I’m a fast reader.”

“Good. Because I want to get started on this op as soon as possible.”

“Op?”

“This operation, this mission.”

“I see. So you’re considering your recovery as you would any mission assigned to you? That’s a good thing, I suppose.”

“A Marine never fails.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

“If you’re referring to my failed marriage to your sister—”

“I wasn’t,” she quickly interrupted him. “I meant that no one can guarantee a 100 percent success rate at anything.”

“No excuses, no exceptions.”

“Seems like a pretty tough philosophy to maintain.”

“The Marine Corps is supposed to be tough. It’s not a place for wimps.”

“Yeah, physical therapy is like that. Not a place for wimps. Oh, I almost forgot…” She returned to the counter to hand him the special concoction she’d mixed up in the blender. It did not escape his notice that she’d only poured one glass, not two. One glass, just for him. “Here, drink this.”

He grabbed her wrist. “What did you put in here?”

Startled, she tried to pull away.

“Answer me. What did you put in here?”

“Wheat germ, a banana, some strawberries, orange juice, a little vitamin B.”

“And what else?”

“Nothing else.”

“Do you swear on my mother’s life?”

His expression made her shiver. “Yes.”

He abruptly released her wrist.

“Why?” Her voice was husky with emotion. “What did you think I’d put in there?”

“My pain medication.”

She stared at him in amazement. “You thought I was trying to drug you against your will?”

“That thought did cross my mind, yes.”

“You clearly have a suspicious mind.”

“It’s kept me alive more times than I can count.”

“We’re not in a battle zone here.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s an ingrained part of my training, thinking of scenarios and outcomes, thinking of everything as a weapon, even this fork.” He used the utensil to eat the last bite of scrambled eggs. “You call it being suspicious, I call it being alert, never letting down my defenses.”

She realized then how deep his distrust truly ran—not just of her but of everyone and everything around him.

“If I gave you my word that I won’t drug you, that it’s completely unethical for me to do so, would that make you feel better? If I swore on your mother’s life, as you put it, would that make you feel better?”

“The only thing that will make me feel better is regaining complete mobility of my arm and rejoining my squadron. Anything less than that is unacceptable.”

Kelly had worked with patients before who’d been unable to accept their injuries and the limitations that had subsequently been placed on them. Inevitably it made their recoveries slower. But there was no speeding up the acceptance process. Each individual had to get there at their own rate, in their own time, in their own way. She had a feeling that Justice’s way would be the hard way. He wasn’t a man to take the easy route.

She didn’t even realize that she was absently rubbing her wrist until he spoke.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t trust me,” she replied. “That’s bound to make this process more difficult.”

“I told you, I don’t trust anyone.”

“Not even your own family?”

“Of course I trust them.”

“Then trust that your mother knew what she was doing when she sent me to you.”

“I trust her, not her judgment about everything.”