Chapter 7
Cory woke once after the doctors amputated the shattered arm, cleaned his wounds, and packed them with pressure bandages.
Delaney was there when his eyes blinked open three hours later.
"O’Connell?"
"Yeah, Cory. I’m here." She leaned over his bed and smiled downward. The nurses had done a good job bandaging his face. Thankfully, none of the shrapnel had hit his eyes, but he’d have scars on his forehead, nose, cheeks, and chin. They’d just give him more character.
"My arm hurts like hell." He shifted his shoulder and lifted his head to get a look at it.
Delaney touched his chest. "Lie back. I’ll talk to the nurse about upping the pain meds." She turned to flag down a nurse.
Cory snagged her arm with his left hand. "Why can’t I move my arm?"
Her heart broke as she struggled to come up with the words to tell him he’d never move that arm again.
"What’s wrong? Why the sad face? Am I paralyzed?" He lifted the other arm, I.V. tubes and all. "Don’t lie to me. Give it to me straight."
She sucked in a deep breath. "The explosion destroyed your right arm. The doctors couldn’t save it. They had to..." She couldn’t say the word amputate. "They had to remove it."
Cory’s brows drew together for a moment, then he lay back, a smile curving his lips. "Is that all? And here I thought the injury was serious." He lay still for a few seconds.
Delaney thought he’d slipped into unconsciousness again until he spoke.
"How’s Tuck?"
"He’s okay. Took a bullet to the leg. I believe the medics had to sit on him to make him stay still long enough to pull it out."
Cory chuckled once, his brows twisting. "Remind me not to laugh. Hurts. And the others?"
"All the SEALs made it out."
His eyes opened. "Who didn’t?"
"The other helicopter crew."
"Damn."
"The main thing is for you to get better. They’re moving you soon. You get a first-class plane ride to Landstuhl then back to the States."
"Always wanted to go to Germany," he said, his voice fading.
"Sorry, you won’t get to tour this time. Unless you count the inside of the hospital."
"Maybe for our honeymoon."
"About that..." Delaney started, not sure of what she wanted to say. The truth would be best. She turned and paced the length of his bed. "When I agreed to marry you, I wasn’t thinking straight. I was worried about you and said what I thought you wanted to hear. The thing is, I love you, but like a brother. So you see, you don’t want to marry me. I’m not the right girl for you. You deserve someone who will love you like a husband." Delaney spun to face Cory to gauge his reaction.
He lay as still as death, his breathing shallow, his skin pale from the loss of so much blood. As far as Delaney knew, he hadn’t heard a word of her confession.
And as far as she was concerned, he never should. Losing an arm would be hard enough to recover from. Losing an arm and a fiancé at the same time was setting him up to fail. And failure meant death.
Her heart aching, Delaney sat beside Cory, loving him like a brother while she longed for Tuck’s arms to be around her, his voice reassuring her everything would be all right.
Captain Swinson stopped beside her. "They’re getting ready to move him. If you’re going with him, you might want to pack a bag."
Delaney stood and glanced down at Cory.
"Don’t worry, I’ll stay with him until you get back."
"Thanks." Delaney hugged the other woman and hurried out of the hospital, breathing in the fresh desert air. The sun was just beginning to rise, bathing the camp in a golden haze.
Tired, disheartened, and worried, she hurried to her tent, packed her rucksack with the essentials and a change of uniform, and returned to the hospital. All the way there and back, she glanced around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tuck.
When she arrived back at the hospital, they had Cory loaded onto the big wheeled gurney, a medic carrying the IV still attached to his arm. They loaded him into the back of an ambulance and made room for Delaney. She slipped onto a bench next to the medic who hung the IV over the collapsible gurney.
The ride to the helicopter pad passed quickly. Too quickly. Soon, they’d be on their way to Bagram and from there to Landstuhl. She might never see Tuck again, and she hadn’t had the opportunity to say goodbye.
At the helicopter pad, the transfer went without a hitch and the pilot shook hands with Delaney. "Heard what happened. Sorry about the crew."
"Me, too."
"I’ll try to make the ride as painless as possible."
"Thanks." Delaney climbed on board and behind the pilot, the experience of riding in a helicopter so much different than flying it.
"Wait!" A shout sounded over the sound of the rotor blades building up speed and one of the medics closed the sliding door.
"Wait!" Across the tarmac, Tuck ran, wearing gym shorts, T-shirt, and tennis shoes, his thick, muscular legs covered in swaths of orange Betadine and patches of stitches. One of the ground crew clotheslined him, bringing him to a halt before he could get close enough to the blades now in motion.
Delaney started to unhook her harness, but the helicopter lifted off, the pilot’s focus already on the task ahead, unaware of the man waving frantically. Get the patient to Bagram safely and swiftly. The sooner he got out of the theater, the sooner he’d get the specialized help he’d need to survive.
Helpless to stop the chopper from rising, knowing slowing the trip would only put Cory in more danger, Delaney watched through the scuffed window as Tuck became a tiny dot in the middle of the airfield. Her eyes burned with unshed tears.
Delaney’s life was now on a different course. Cory would be her focus until he was well enough to manage on his own.