“Honestly, I think it is more we saved each other. I was barely living when I met you that first day,” she whispers, her breath skimming across my face.
“I love you, Evelyn May, thank you for everything,” I tell her, kissing her with so much passion and love, mixed with adoration.
Epilogue
It’s been six months since Evelyn and Gracie walked into my life, to tell you the truth they have saved me. I thought when I came back from the war, I had left it all behind me. I know now that I didn’t. I only brought all that pain and the memories back with me. I learned you could surround yourself with a million people but when the darkness pulls you down there is no amount of people that can stop that. I now work full time with Dogs Inc. helping the handlers training the puppies, showing them just what signals the puppy needs to know and I am doing it with Gracie proudly by my side. My life is no longer just existing, I am now living. I still have hard times; I still have night terrors, not as frequently as I did before. I did learn a great lesson from them both. Only way to deal with it is to focus on things that will be there on the other side when you come through, and for me that is Evelyn and my Saving Grace.
Sam’s Only Hope
Claire Ashlynn
Chapter One
Samuel Paxon
Explosions fire all around me. The weightless feeling of flying through the air settles at the bottom of my gut. The heat from the flames scorch at my skin and pain blasts throughout my body as we land. I jerk a glance at Tom, the driver, and the side of his face is covered in blood.
Wrenching to the back the best that I can, I look for the radio and gunner men, but the back of the vehicle is twisted metal. Pain radiates and shoots up from my left foot. I gaze down and see that the floorboard is gone and so is my foot.
“Fuck!” I scream as I jerk up into a sitting position on the bed. Sweat pours down my body as it trembles, I try to shake off the remnants of the nightmare. Grabbing my anxiety pills from the nightstand, I pop one and chase it down with water. I gulp down the whole bottle. Flicking a look at the clock, I see it’s four-thirty in the morning. With a groan, I roll over and slip to the side of the bed. There’s no reason to lie around, I won’t be able to fall back to sleep anyway. Once the nightmare invades, there is only one way for me to relax. Glaring at several pill bottles lining the nightstand, I shake my head. Nope, they don’t help much. No, I hit the gym. Working off the adrenaline is the only way to get the fear and anguish out.
I reach for the cloth sleeve from the side table and glide it on. Grabbing the metal prosthetic, I try to thread the Velcro strap through the bottom but my hands are still twitching. Giving them a firm shake, I steady them and continue to attach the piece to my stub.
I slip on my sweats and stand up, then head to the kitchen and pop a K-cup into the coffee machine. While the machine does its magic, I scramble three eggs and heat up some precooked bacon.
Adding a little cream and sugar to my mug, I give it a quick stir and blow on it before taking a sip. The warmth from the hot liquid works its way through my body starting at my center. After scarfing down my breakfast, I shrug on my jacket and grab my gym bag.
The trip to the gym is short. Ice hangs from trees, lamp poles, and roofs, and patches of snow dot the side of the road. It’s early February, but in Nederland, Colorado, we still have several months of ball freezing weather ahead of ourselves. I pull into the parking lot, skirting around a patch of black ice, and park next to the handicap spot. Fuck if I’m using it. I’ve worked my ass off for two years to get where I’m at and I’m owning my success.
Through the well-lit windows, I see that it’s deserted. Just the way I like it. Less staring people.
Heading inside, I switch out my everyday prosthetic for the athletic one. I set to work on the free weights. After several sets, I’m still on edge. I climb on the treadmill and start my routine. By the time I’m done and worn out and covered in sweat, I’ve run five miles uphill. My stub’s sore by the time I step off. I sit down with my back to the wall and guzzle down a bottle of water. Slipping my athletic leg off, I rub Tiger Balm into the sore muscles. Grimacing, I fight through the agony.
"Hey, you," a sweet voice says. Looking up, I see a luscious, curvy woman with straight, long auburn hair that hangs down to the globes of her sweet ass with a warm smile. Her eyes are a unique gray-green color. I rub my stubble on my chin while checking for drool.
"Hey, Hope. You’re up here early this morning," I remark, devouring her with my eyes.
"Yeah . . . I'm actually hoping to catch up with you. I know you like to come to workout in the early mornings."
Hope's been in my life since before I was released from the hospital. She was assigned to be my physical therapist when I returned stateside, then transferred to homecare so she could continue working with me. I’m not sure why, the first year, I was not in the right
