Because of You: A Loveswept Contemporary Military Romance by Jessica Scott Page A

me.”
    Jen took a deep breath and approached the bed. “Let me help you.”
    She edged closer to the wheelchair, standing close enough that if he lashed out at her, he’d easily connect. His fist balled on the chair and though she hated herself for it, she flinched. Wounded or not, if Shane hit her, she wouldn’t be getting up.
    “Please, Shane. Let me help you.”
    His arm shook. He didn’t look at her, but he finally nodded. Just a quick jerk of his chin, but it was enough. She stepped closer, wedging herself beneath his good arm. “On three. One.” He braced against her, using his casted hand to awkwardly grip her shoulder. “Two.” She planted her hands on his ribs and chest. “Three.”
    Together they pushed, rotating Shane back into the bed. Silence hung in the room like a day-old corpse. She picked up the chair and moved it out of the way. Then she gathered up bandages and a fresh IV.
    The threat of violence and risk of injury safely past, her hands shook in a delayed reaction to the fear. She sucked in a deep breath and steadied herself.
    Finally she turned, and what she saw stunned her. His hand covered his face and she could see the strain in the lines of his neck and forearms. Her heart ached to see him hurting so badly. He still didn’t respond. Her fingers trembled, but still she reached for him. He jerked when her fingers brushed his skin. She applied a gentle pressure, and drew his arm away from his face. He surprised her when he didn’t resist her, didn’t pull away. Pain echoed in every spasm of his muscles. She applied pressure on the former IV site, cleaning the blood with her free hand. Once the bleeding slowed, she wrapped medical tape around his elbow, securing the bandage in place. She finished cleaning theblood from his arm, then prepared a new IV.
    He didn’t move. He was absolutely still as she worked. She felt his gaze burning into her.
    “What hurts?”
    He looked out the window, his jaw pulsing as he ground his teeth. “Everything.” His voice broke over the whisper. He massaged his temples with his thumb and index finger. “I don’t want any more damn drugs and I want this fucking tube out of my dick.”
    “We can’t take the catheter out because you’ve got seventeen stitches holding your guts inside of you. So unless you feel like picking your spleen up off the floor because you want to be stupid, the quote fucking tube stays.”
    He glared at her then, but remained silent. She swallowed and stepped closer to the bed. “There’s no shame in using the drugs to get through this. They’re a tool, like anything else a doctor uses.”
    “I can’t think.” He scrubbed his palm against the new beard covering his jaw. “I don’t trust myself on them.”
    She rested her hip against the rail. He looked away and Jen saw a hint of despair replace the anger and pain in his face. The shift was so sudden, so without warning, and so utterly heartbreaking that tears sparked behind her eyes.
    “Fine.” His sudden acquiescence surprised her.
    “I’ll be right back.” He didn’t acknowledge her statement but she squeezed his hand before she left anyway.
    She’d never seen him in so much pain, not even when he’d first arrived. The strain in his voice hurt. She injected the drug quickly into his IV, then she reached for his hand.He didn’t pull away. She stroked his knuckles until his fist was no longer tense. Then she threaded her fingers with his and waited in the silence with him, his big, rough hand resting in hers.
    The tension eased back as the narcotic took hold, binding to the pain. The lines around his mouth relaxed, and his neck muscles visibly loosened. His fingers stayed linked with hers, though, strong and steady. She looked down at that hand she held and wondered at her fascination with this man who was capable of such naked determination.
    “Better?” she asked. He nodded slowly and squeezed her fingers lightly before unthreading his hand from hers. “How’s