Solid Ground: a Wounded Love novel Read online

Especially for me.

  My reputation around town isn’t one to write home about. In fact, the majority of people in this city think James is a saint for taking on someone like me.

  You see, I’m the one who broke the town hero’s heart. The golden boy whom everyone thought was destined for NFL quarterback greatness, only to be surprised when he enlisted in the Army right after graduation. Fast forward several years to when the news broke that his unit had been hit and Joey had barely survived, losing a leg in the process, and I was practically the most despised woman in town. Never mind that what happened between us was years before. And that I was a stupid eighteen-year-old who’d made the dumbest decision of her life in a moment of weakness. And I’ve regretted it ever since. I’m still the girl who caused him to leave town and never look back.

  I briefly close my eyes in an attempt to tamp down both the memories and nausea in the pit of my stomach. Thinking of Joey always leads me to feeling like absolute shit.

  Taking in a deep breath, I exhale slowly as I open my eyes. Amber’s bright green eyes greet me, her eyebrows still pulled together in a tight line. This poor girl is going to get premature wrinkles over worrying about me.

  Tentatively placing my uninjured hand—even I’m not dumb enough to try and use my busted one—over hers, I gently pat her skin. “Quit worrying about me, Amber. I’ll be fine. I’m always fine.”

  Her eyes narrow, as if she doesn’t believe what I’m saying. When her lips part, I know I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep anytime soon. Amber is gearing up for another one of her lectures, in which she tells me how much better I deserve and how I need to leave, et cetera, et cetera. And I love her for it. I love her for caring so much about me. But I’m just too damn tired to hear it right now.

  I lean my head back against the pillow as I brace myself for her words. I already know I’ll agree with everything she says. But I also know it’ll never happen. It won’t change anything. So, what’s the point?

  “Nic—” Her words are cut short by a knock at the door.

  If I didn’t feel like death warmed over, I’d leap from this bed and kiss whoever just came to my rescue. As it is, they’ll just have to get by with a weak smile and a look I hope will express the deep depths of my gratitude.

  Amber shoots me a look, letting me know that we’re not through here and moves to the door. Slightly cracking it, she takes in the person on the other side. Hushed voices fill the air—Amber’s and a more masculine timbre—but I’m unable to make out a single word.

  After a moment, Amber glances back at me over her shoulder and sighs loudly. Stepping back from the door, she swings it wide and reveals the person standing in the hallway.

  He’s in a dark blue police uniform. The moment I see the uniform, I want to take back all my feelings of thanksgiving. As much as I didn’t want to listen to Amber’s speech, I don’t want to talk to the police about a thousand times more. They haven’t even bothered to show up the last several times I’ve been here. Before then, when they did appear, I’d always say the same thing, no charges would be filed, and we’d all go on our merry way. After about the third or fourth time I came in, the doctors stopped calling to report it. Standard procedure is, any sort of injury like mine has to be reported. But, like I said, what’s the point now?

  I scan the officer’s attire. From his posture, I’m guessing he’s new. He still has that ramrod straight, my-job-is-the-most-important-profession-on-earth stance all the newbies seem to possess. Give him a few years. He’ll lose that. They all do.

  As my eyes travel over his uniform, I can’t help but notice his muscular arms and broad chest. And, dear God, what is wrong with me? I’m lying in a fucking hospital bed, my hand broken and my body battered, and I’m checking out this guy’s arms and chest. I must’ve hit my head harder than I thought because this so isn’t like me.

  I mentally shake myself, returning back to my perusal of the man. My eyes finally reach his face.

  And my world…

  Stops.

  Holy. Shit.

  All thoughts of his upper body, my pain, my busted hand, Amber—all of it is gone.

  It’s just me.

  And him.

  I blink furiously, trying to clear my vision. He can’t really be here, can he? Jesus, fuck, my mind is really playing tricks on me. Why else would Joey Roberts be standing in my doorway, looking at me like he isn’t the least bit surprised to see me?

  Amber loudly clears her throat, breaking my concentration on his face. My eyes briefly dart to hers.

  I see the question in them without her even having to speak. Are you okay with this?

  Amber has been in town only for a few years. She doesn’t know who this man is. Doesn’t know our history. There’s no way she could possibly know how not okay I am right now.

  But I nod anyway.

  She gives Joey a righteous smirk as she exits the room, as if daring him to do something to upset me. And, if I know Amber, she’ll be standing a foot outside the door, eavesdropping on our every word.

  The thought is mildly reassuring. If he’s here to yell at me or ridicule me for my decisions…well, I’d rather she be nearby to put a stop to that ASAP.

  Joey takes a few tentative steps toward the bed. He’s looking everywhere in the room but at me. When he’s about five feet from the edge of where I’m lying, he stops, staring down at his boots.

  I watch him in silence for several moments, wondering why he’s here. And then the fact that he’s in a local police officer uniform hits me.

  “You live here now?” My shaky voice breaks the stillness between us.

  I’m not sure if I imagine it, but it almost appears as if he winces at my words.

  Finally lifting his gaze to meet mine, he waits a beat before answering, “Yeah.” His voice cracks. “Been back about six months now.”

  His dark eyes are almost sorrowful as they meet mine, as if he hates admitting to me that he’s been here all this time and he hasn’t reached out to me. I don’t understand why. It isn’t like he owes me any type of explanation. If anything, I owe him one.

  We fall back into a tense silence, his eyes returning to his boots and mine remaining fixed on him.

  What is he doing here?

  He obviously isn’t here to yell, or he would’ve led with that. It might have been several years since we’ve last seen each other, but I still feel safe in that bet. I knew Joey better than anyone else. He wasn’t the type to beat around the bush, especially when he was angry.

  So, why is he doing it now?

  When he starts rubbing at a spot on the floor with the toe of his boot, I decide, enough is enough.

  “What are you doing here, Joey?” Not exactly the nicest way I could’ve phrased that, but it gets the point across.

  Judging from the look that passes over his features, it more than got it across. It straight-up smacked him in the face.

  “Uh, just wanted to see how you were doing.”

  My mouth gapes. “Why would you care? And how did you even know where to find me?”

  James is good about keeping my hospital visits under wraps. Aside from the staff, most of the town is unaware of my repeat stays here.

  Joey’s hand moves to the back of his neck, and he rubs the muscle there as he considers how to answer. It’s another thing that hasn’t changed in the years I haven’t seen him. I could always tell when he was having trouble with getting words out or making a difficult decision. Sometimes, he’d rub the skin there so raw that I’d have to apply lotion for him to help with the chafing.

  My eyes never waver from him as he mentally prepares his next words. And I see the recognizable look of determination cross his face as he decides that honesty is the best way to go.

  How can this man be so foreign to me yet so familiar at the same time?

  Squaring his shoulders, his eyes rising to meet mine, he briefly purses his lips. Whatever he’s about to say, he doesn’t like it. “I was the one who found you at
your parents’ house.”

  The breath rushes out of my lungs as his words sink in. Joey found me?

  The last thing I remember is falling in a heap on the kitchen floor. Until this moment, it didn’t even occur to me to wonder how I’d ended up in the hospital. Usually, if I wasn’t able to drive myself, James would drop me at the door. And the few times it had ended with me being unconscious, he’d always been the one to phone the EMTs, claiming I’d had another spill down the stairs.

  Hearing that Joey found me is just…

  Did James move me? Or did he just leave me there, like so much waste? Knowing him, it was the latter.

  And the idea of Joey finding me in such a state has me near tears. I hate for anyone to see me this way. But Joey…that is so much worse.

  Joey clears his throat, bringing my thoughts back to the present. I can’t change the fact that he saw me like that. But I can change how he sees me now.

  I straighten as best as I can in the cramped hospital bed. Lifting my chin, I look him square in the eye. “I’m fine, thank you. It wasn’t necessary for you to come all the way down here. I’m sure you have more important things to do.”

  I’m not sure if it’s my imagination, but I’m almost positive I see a flicker of pain pass over his eyes as if my words sting. And, for just a moment, I swear, it looks like he’s going to argue, like he’s actually going to disagree with me. It’s a look I saw time and time again over the many years I knew him. Dating a boy who’s just as bullheaded as you doesn’t make for the easiest of relationships. But it sure as hell makes for a passionate one.

  Before I can venture any further down that particular memory lane, the look is gone, and Joey’s gruff voice fills the air. “You’re right. It was silly of me to come all the way down here. I’m glad to see you’re doing better. I’ll be on my way.”

  Before I even have a chance to respond, he turns on his heel and strides out of the room.

  Twenty-Three Years Ago

  “Red Rover, Red Rover, send Nichole right over.”

  My heart races as I hear my name has been called. This is my favorite thing ever. I love being outside and playing with my friends. But, when I get called to be it, it makes everything so much more fun.

  I drop the hands of Sydney and Veronica, my two best friends. Taking a few giant steps backward, I breathe in deep and take off like a shot. I can feel my dark hair waving behind me, and it makes me glad that I’ve never had it cut. Only a few more inches and it’ll be down to my butt, something that makes all my friends jealous.

  I see Jeffrey and Dustin ahead of me. Everybody knows they’re the biggest wimps in the second grade, so I aim right for them. I shouldn’t have any trouble breaking through their laced hands. Who cares if they’re boys?

  My legs pump furiously as I close the distance between us. I can see it in their eyes when the two boys realize I’m heading their way. And, before I even have a chance to hit their arms, the two let go, and I go sailing past.

  I pump my fists in the air as my team cheers and Jeff and Dustin groan. Several of the older boys start teasing Jeff and Dustin for letting a girl beat them. But it doesn’t bother me. My parents have always taught me that girls can be just as strong as boys. Stronger even.

  I eye the lineup of my opposing team, debating on which of them I want to take back to my side with me. Definitely not Jeff or Dustin. I could pick Mallory. She’s always nice to me.

  I’m just about to grab her hand when I notice a kid sitting near the edge of the field, watching us.

  I haven’t seen him before, but he looks to be about my age. My mom mentioned a new family moving into the Cooper’s old house around the block, and I wonder if maybe this kid now lives there.

  He’s watching the older boys tease Jeff and Dustin, so it takes him a few seconds to realize I’m looking at him. When he does, he scrambles to his feet, dusting off the seat of his pants as he turns to leave.

  “Hey!” I call out.

  He glances over his shoulder at me, looking unsure if I’m actually talking to him.

  I wave, so he knows I am. “Wait up!”

  I jog over to where he’s standing with a confused look still on his face.

  “Who are you?”

  “Joey. I just moved here,” the boy says shyly.

  “Hi, Joey! I’m Nichole. You wanna come play Red Rover with us?”

  He warily eyes the older boys.

  I smile. “Don’t worry. You can be on my team,” I say, grabbing his arm and dragging him across the field.

  Mom and Dad say I can be a little bossy.

  But he’d better get used to it now because I can already tell that Joey and I are going to be great friends.

  “Well, look who the fuck it is!” Troy’s voice roars through the room the second he sees me step inside the bar.

  He’s standing by the dartboard with my friend Alex—the only reason I’m even here tonight—and a few other guys I don’t recognize. At Troy’s declaration, Alex turns, smiling at me as I approach them.

  Alex claps me on the back as I slide onto the stool next to where he stands. “Thanks for coming out tonight, man.”

  I nod, signaling the waitress. I’m going to need some fucking alcohol if I’m going to deal with Troy for the night.

  Speaking of…Troy throws his arm around my shoulders and shakes me as he laughs in my face. I can smell the beer on his breath along with whatever shit he ate for dinner.

  “How’s it going, Roberts? I was wondering when the fuck you were going to show your face down here.”

  And, just like I told Alex earlier, this is exactly why I haven’t been in since I’ve been back. Troy was obnoxious as fuck in high school. Add in the fact that he’s not married, he still works at the fucking car wash, and he has zero adult responsibilities, and the asshole thinks every day is just one big party and that nothing has changed since we were eighteen.

  Now, don’t get me wrong. I like to have a good time as much as the next guy. But, once you hit thirty, your ideas of a good time are quite a bit different than they were when you were a punk-ass kid. Apparently, Troy never got the memo.

  Still, it’s kind of good to see him. As much as the fucker drives me crazy, he’s always good for a laugh. And, Lord knows, after the week I’ve had, I could sure use a few of those.

  I watch as Alex throws his last dart, the tip landing right in the center of the bull’s-eye. The two other guys he’s with grumble good-naturedly before pulling the darts out and passing them to the people waiting to play next. The three of them then join me and Troy at the table.

  “Guys, this is Joey,” Alex says as they all take a seat. “Joe, this is Dex,” he tells me, gesturing at the dark-haired guy sitting next to him. “And that’s Russ,” he adds with a nod to the guy on the other side of Dex.

  Russ and Dex both lift a hand in greeting, and I jerk my chin in return, throwing them both the universal guy code for ‘what’s up?’

  “And, of course, you all know me,” Troy bellows next to me.

  Looks of slight irritation cross both Dex’s and Russ’s features, and I can already tell I’m going to get along just fine with these guys.

  When the waitress finally makes her way over to us, we all order a round. A television hangs on the wall opposite where we’re sitting. The NBA play-offs are in full swing, so we spend the few minutes it takes to get our drinks watching the game. Troy shouts at the TV, cheering on Stephen Curry and the Warriors.

  The waitress delivers our beers just as a time-out is called.

  As the game fades away and goes to a commercial, Troy lets out a final jeer. “I don’t know who that guy thinks he is,” he says, referencing the play we just watched. “Ain’t nobody going to block my man Stephen. He’ll juke them right out of their shoes.”

  He must not notice the roll of my eyes because Troy then decides to focus his attention on me.

  “So, what have you been up to, man? You’ve been back in town for months, and this is the first ti
me you’ve been able to drag your ass down here. What gives?”

  Repressing yet another eye roll, I turn to look at him. The shit-eating grin he’s sporting tells me that, while he might be giving me shit about my lack of presence at our old hangout, he’s still glad to see me. See? Like I said, he might be obnoxious as hell, but he’s not such a bad guy—sometimes.

  “What gives is, I’ve been training. They don’t just let anyone walk in off the street and be a cop. You have to prove yourself first. School, tests, physical exams—you know, all that shit you failed in high school.”

  Troy laughs, not even bothering to argue. I mean, really, it’s a miracle the guy even graduated. I still think he paid someone. Maybe performed some sort of sexual favors for the principal. He’s not exactly a brainiac, this one. In fact, I’ve seen puddles of mud with more brain cells.

  “So, how’s it going?” Alex asks, bringing our attention to him. “How’d your leg do through all that?”

  Dex and Russ shoot me questioning looks. I’m not sure what Alex has told them, so I kick my leg out to the side of the table and raise my pant leg. Based on their expressions, I’d wager that Alex failed to mention the fact that I’d lost that little part of my body six years ago in Iraq.

  “It’s good,” I tell him as the other two continue to stare in awe at my prosthesis. “Took some convincing to get them to even accept me into the program once they found out about this bad boy. But you know me; I’m nothing if not persistent. I can outrun most of the men on the force, even with my little disability.”

  Troy scoffs at my remark. “Disability? Ha! You’re fucking bionic. You’ve probably got that baby turbocharged with some NOS boosters or some shit.”

  I laugh. “Believe it or not, they don’t make turbochargers for metal legs. This isn’t The Fast and the Furious, bro. This is just a plain old, boring prosthetic leg.”

  He waves his hand at me. “Whatever. You were a freak of nature in high school with how fast you could run. Then, they gave you robot parts, and you’re even better. I ain’t buying it. Either you’ve got some shit stashed in that leg of yours, or you’re fucking Superman or something. Were you bit by a radioactive spider while you were overseas?”