“I think that’s preaching to the choir,” he said, giving up on the guy’s name but remembering the nurse was always around the hospital too. For the past month, Robert had been placed on limited duty at the Landstuhl Regional Military Hospital in Germany. From the janitorial staff all the way to the top brass, the whole team seemed to have a great respect for one another. They were solid professionals who genuinely got along, and they had had no problem welcoming Robert—a civilian—into their circle with open arms. He’d been the one to purposefully keep his distance.
Another point in the hospital staff’s favor was that not one person had referenced either one of his fathers. They offered no awkward condolences on their untimely deaths. There was no talk of his dad, Avery Adams, being a great patriot of their country or the loss of his other father, his daddy, Kane Adams, so quickly after Avery’s death. Robert didn’t have to listen to all the ridiculous theories of soul mates—a perfect love intertwined with a connection so deep that death couldn’t break his fathers’ bond. Here at LRMC, Robert was just a man immersing himself in work.
The scalpel hadn’t felt right in his hand for a good while now, and he refused to jeopardize any surgical patient until it did again. After pulling political strings to gain special permission, he’d come to LRMC in merely a support capacity. He took every shift offered in order to keep his plate so full there wasn’t time to dwell on what had happened in his personal life. Especially his responsibility in his beloved daddy’s sudden decline and ultimate death. Pain lanced his heart so sharply it forced the air from his lungs as the weight of what he’d done sat heavily on his chest. And just like that, the overwhelming feeling returned, threatening to drag him under.
He’d heard time eased loss, and perhaps it might, but he doubted the guilt would ever fade. If he’d done things differently, he wouldn’t be here in Germany chasing mystical signs, searching for anything to give purpose to his pain. Robert scrubbed a hand down his face.
“You okay, buddy?” the nurse asked, interrupting his pity party.
Robert glanced over, surprised to see the man still standing beside him. Apparently, this depression he fought robbed him of any reasonable thought. How could he move forward when his head and heart couldn’t get past how badly he’d handled things?
“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little tired. I’m doing rounds then heading out.” Forcing a grin, Robert tried for upbeat, hoping to hide the pain silently drowning him. And it seemed to work. The nurse gave an easy nod, accepting his answer.
“I’m on duty tonight. Let me know what you need.” The guy squeezed his shoulder then gave him a reassuring pat on the back before leaving Robert standing there alone.
“Right,” he muttered and forced himself back to the patient chart in his hand, refusing to wallow in the murky pit of regret that the conversation had stirred. He stared at the notes, not remembering a single thing he’d read from just moments ago. He had to do better.
“Fuck my life!” Landon Russo bit the words out in complete frustration, letting the paperback in his hand drop to his chest in surrender. In every possible way, he was totally screwed. Being trapped in this hospital bed for days on end had taken its toll. He was antsy and bored lying there, staring at a dingy ceiling that had certainly seen better days.
He’d seen better days too.
Honestly, if he’d planned to go down in a blaze of glory, at least his injuries could have happened in a more honorable way. Of course, he didn’t have that kind of luck. Even his supposedly stupidly high IQ hadn’t helped override his general cockiness.
Somehow, Landon had allowed his dumbass buddies to goad him into playing chicken with an old abandoned tower. The tall structure had been built a few years after the military base opened in 1953 and had been abandoned long ago. It had no use today other than the fact it had become a distraction from boredom and offered bragging rights to the ones brave enough to accept the challenge. They had boasted it to be a rite of passage, playing a game of double dare with the old wooden structure known as The Tower, or Der Turm as they called it there. Hell, the name alone—so ominous sounding—had caused him to want to climb the thing. Fueled by the fact that he’d never been one to pass up a dare, Landon had somehow agreed with their fearless stupidity. In hindsight, his agreement might have had more to do with the alcohol coursing through his blood than anything else. What a dumbass move on his part.
His moment of glory sure as hell had bit him on the ass. He had an arm filled with pins and screws holding it together and a deeply bruised body as his reward for being the bravest of his squadron. He’d scrambled his way to the top of the old rotting tower. The fucked-up part? Even now, he had a small amount of pride in the fact he had made it all the way up those rickety old steps as far as they went before climbing the rest of the way on a decaying wood ladder. Landon had proudly carved his name alongside those of the other brave soldiers who had conquered the tower before him.
Heights had never been a fear for him. And even drunk, he’d had no issue climbing so high. The complication came from the hard, unforgiving earth below—German dirt had no give, and the pain radiating through his bones was a testament to that fact.
Lying on this hospital bed, Landon still refused to take full responsibility for the situation. Maybe he was being arrogant, maybe
