Page 98 of Sloane

“Yeah, but something tells me your wife wouldn’t appreciate you being on one.”

He chuckled and stood without hesitation. “I know I’ve got a keeper; no way would I blow that. Besides,” he gestured to his prosthetic, “who else would want me?”

I eyed the soldier I’d been working with for the last eight months. He was handsome, in a silver fox kind of way, and his blue eyes always seemed to be twinkling with mischief these days—especially once he’d regained his mobility and he became a lot less salty. But what I thought was most attractive about him was how much he adored his wife of twenty-nine years. And how much she loved him back.

Hashtag: Couple goals.

“You aren’t fishing for compliments, are you?”

“Wh-at?” he asked in a falsetto voice and a grin he didn’t try to hide. “Me? Fishing for compliments? I would never. But if I were…”

“You still got it.” That made him buff his nails against his shoulder, and I winked at him. “June’s a lucky woman.”

Usually, the mention of his wife’s name brought a broad smile to his face, but today it caused him to frown.

“I don’t know. She sure as hell didn’t sign up for a husband with a peg leg.”

I patted him on his back as we walked toward the bench in front of the row of lockers. “You’re a warrior. That’s what she signed up for. You’re the Johnny to her June.”

He paused and faced me, gripping my shoulder with a serious expression.

“You deserve a warrior, too, Ash. Don’t let one guy ruin your idea of what love looks like. He is obviously an idiot. There’s someone out there for you and that little girl of yours.”

Dan had gotten a front row seat to my heartbreak with Sloane. Although I never came out and told him Sloane didn’t want anything to do with us, I think he got the gist of it.

“Thanks. I’m sure someday I’ll find someone.”

His eyes twinkled when he said, “Maybe sooner than you think.”

“What are you up to, old man?”

“Nothing,” he said in a singsong voice.

“I oughta make you do another set, then maybe you’ll be too tired to get into trouble.”

He grinned when he turned to face me. “I’ll never be too tired to get into trouble, Ash. You know that.”

Boy did I.

“Hey, Dan. Good to see you again,” Dr. Connolly, one of the orthopedic surgeons at the VA said as he approached the Army veteran with his hand extended.

Dan grasped the offered hand and shook it. “Hi ya, Doc. Good to see you, too.” He glanced at me. “You know Ashley Youngman, physical therapist assistant extraordinaire.”

The handsome doctor turned to me with a smile that must have cost his parents thousands of dollars in orthodontia.

“Of course. How are you feeling, Ashley?”

I’d worked long enough with Dr. Jeff Connolly that I had no qualms about answering honestly. “I’m uncomfortable—all the time.”

He gave me a sympathetic pout. “You poor thing. I can’t imagine July is the ideal time to be pregnant.”

“Not eight months pregnant, anyway.”

“Do you have another patient right now?”

“No, I was just headed to my office to work on reports.”

“Let me buy you lunch, so you can put your feet up while we talk about this guy’s”—he nodded his head toward Dan—“new prosthetic coming in later this week.”

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