“Just thought I’d check to see what the hell you’re doing. You sure aren’t making your way back here.”
“Fuck, I’ve got another month. Hear I’m missing a wedding?”
“Yeah, but did you hear about Tate? He’s getting married, too.”
Nolan shook his head. Tate had been on his SEAL team several years earlier, and when he got out, rumor had it he had joined a hot-shot security company. He looked up to Tate but hadn’t spoken to him in a year. “Tate’s getting married? Damn, everyone’s dropping like flies!”
“Don’t worry, Ringer. It’ll hit you, too. Probably when you least expect it. Anyway, I told the others that I’d check on you.”
“I’m getting there. Bored out of my skull, but my mom’s cooking is good.”
Laughing, C-Note said, “I’ll let the others know you’ll be coming back fat and out of shape.”
“Fuck you, man.” It felt good to laugh with a friend and he was more determined to rejoin his team as soon as possible. Disconnecting, he headed downstairs. Hearing voices from the kitchen, he stepped into the bright, sunny room that his mom considered to be the hub of the house.
“Nolan, are you hungry?”
The answer to that question would be that he could always eat his mom’s cooking, but the reality was he noticed his midsection seemed a little soft to him when he was staring in the bathroom mirror. Lack of exercise and too much of Mom’s cooking is hell on my SEAL-fit body.
Ready to decline, he sniffed appreciatively and discovered a warm cherry cobbler sitting on the kitchen counter. “Jesus, Mom. At this rate, I’m never going to get back into shape.” Looking around, he asked, “Where’s Dad? I thought I heard voices.”
Rita walked around the corner and looked up, a smile spread across her face. Her hair was still a light brown, a few streaks of gray only serving to highlight her blue eyes. A beautiful woman, she kept her figure with exercise but had no problem eating whatever she wanted, always saying that life was too short to not enjoy pleasures. “Your father’s in the yard, insisting on cleaning out the gutters.”
Scowling, Nolan turned and headed toward the sliding glass door. “Why didn’t he wait for me to help?” Before giving his mother a chance to reply, he looked over his shoulder and halted her words with a glare. “And don’t give me any crap about not being able to help Dad around the house. It’s been a month. I’ve got to start getting back into fighting shape if I’m going to rejoin my team soon.”
“Sweetie, I know you hate this, but remember what the doctor said. Sepsis is dangerous and not to be taken lightly. If you have a setback, it could keep you from rejoining your team permanently.”
He grimaced, his mom’s words slicing through him. That is not going to happen. As the vow moved through his mind for the hundredth time since he first became ill, he was torn between getting back to his physical peak and not overdoing it to the point of setting his recovery back.
Without looking at her, he gave a short nod, then stepped out into the yard. Just as the door was closing, he heard his mom call out. “Remind your father that Nancy is coming over!”
Tossing his hand up in a wave, he continued walking toward the garage where his father was wrestling with a ladder. “Hang on, Dad. Let me help.”
Nick Bell looked up and smiled his greeting toward Nolan. Whenever people saw them together, they always said, “You look just like your dad.” While some familial comparisons might bother others, Nolan had no problem with those words. His dad was tall and muscular, with whiskey-brown eyes and dark brown hair with hints of gray at the temple, still cut military short. Even in middle age, his father cut an imposing and handsome figure.
He watched a glimmer of hesitation pass through his dad’s eyes, but—wisely—Nick just nodded. Bending, Nolan easily lifted one end of the ladder while his dad carried the other. Walking toward the house, they leaned it against the gutter.
“Dad, why don’t you let me get up there and clean them out?”
“Nolan, I’m not sure that’s a good idea at this time.”
Huffing, he choked on his growl as his dad pierced him with a hard look.
“Son, I know you can do anything—or at least think you can. But you gotta play this smart. You don’t want to set back your recovery. I know you’re itching to get back with your team, and you can only do that if you fully recuperate .” Nick glanced toward the sliding glass door and lowered his voice. “Plus, your mom is trying not to worry, but I can see her staring at us.”
“Dad, don’t make me regret agreeing to recuperate here with you and Mom.”
“Cut us a little slack, Nolan. As tough as you are, you almost died from a ruptured appendix and then the subsequent infection. I know you don’t like to think of it that way, but that’s what the doctors told us.”
With his hands planted on his hips, he dropped his chin and stared at his feet for a minute, a mixture of emotions moving through him. Guilt that his parents had been so worried. Frustration that he hadn’t recognized the symptoms earlier and had tried to ignore them. Anger that he was unable to join his team on their latest mission. And bone-weary fatigue. Jesus, that’s what’s killing me. Feeling tired all the fuckin’ time. The doctors had told him that the fatigue was normal for someone who’d battled severe infection, and he’d slowly get back his strength.
“How about if you spot me on the ladder since your mom is always convinced that I’m going to fall off?”
Unable to keep the grin from his face, he agreed. Making
