Page 103 of Sloane

“Speaking of dates… when are you going out with Dr. Handsome?”

She’d been calling Jeff “Dr. Handsome” since meeting him when he visited me in the hospital after I’d had Millie.

“On Friday. I thought that would give me time to get settled into the new place. Plus, my mom is off that night, so she said she could watch Millie.”

“Um… hello? I’m available to babysit, too, ya know!”

“I know, but I feel like I already impose on your time enough. I’m sure your secret boyfriend would agree.”

I knew Tammy was seeing someone, but for whatever reason, she’d remained tight-lipped about it.

“I told you, I don’t have a secret boyfriend. I have a friend with benefits, and that’s all it is. We have rules.”

“And you’re okay with it just being sex?”

She hesitated for the briefest second, so I had my suspicions, but she answered with a resounding, “Absolutely.”

“Good for you. I wouldn’t mind having some sex that didn’t involve batteries.”

My vibrator and I had gotten very close when my pregnancy hormones were running rampant, but I missed kissing and being held all night in strong arms.

“Maybe Dr. Handsome will scratch that itch.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Somehow though, I had a hard time envisioning that.

Fuck you, Sloane Davidson.

He may very well have ruined any other man for me.

~~~~

I thought it would be good manners to let my new roommates know I’d arrived before we started unloading my and Tammy’s vehicles. So, with baby carrier in hand, I approached the front door to the main house and paused.

Technically, I lived there now, but it felt weird just walking in, so I rang the bell, and Tammy joined me as we waited for someone to answer.

I’d already met all three guys the other day. Crash Davis was an Army paratrooper in his early thirties who’d been crushed in a JLTV rollover accident. He lost his right leg below the knee, and his left was amputated from the hip.

Sergeant Scotty Roberts was a rifleman in the Marine Corps also in his early thirties who’d suffered shrapnel wounds, causing him to lose his left eye, left arm below the elbow, and left leg below the knee.

Stu Laughlin, the youngest of the three, was in his mid-twenties. A Navy Seal who’d lost both legs just above the knee in an underwater IED blast.

They’d all spent months hospitalized in various locations around the world and country, but all called San Diego home, so they’d made their way back to California, and into the WWP’s transition project.

I’d learned that the vetting process to get accepted into the program was rigorous. Which made sense since they’d be sharing a living space with others. They had to be recommended by not only their doctors and/or physical therapists, but by hospital social workers or counselors.

So, I wasn’t surprised when all three men had greeted me warmly and despite their injuries, displayed positive energy. I especially liked how supportive they were of each other. I was looking forward to working with them.

Stu was the one who answered the door.

“Ash! So good to see you again! Come in!”

He moved so Tammy and I could walk inside.

Crash shuffled to the entryway.

“Welcome!” He cocked his head and asked, “Isn’t it your move-in day?”

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