Page 50 of Finally Mine
“You’re driving me fucking nuts!” Aldo yelled from the living room. If he ever learned to speak at normal volume again, it would be a miracle straight from the little baby Jesus.
“That’s a fine way to talk to the woman who dropped everything to nurse you back to health because you couldn’t swerve around a bomb,” his mother snarled back from the kitchen.
“You played Candy Crush and yelled at me if I didn’t turn onThe Price is Rightevery day,” Aldo roared.
“You aren’t driving yourself to PT. I don’t care how big and tough you think you are. So you’re welcome to walk. Go ahead and hitchhike. See if I care. I didn’t raise you to be a grown man who shouts at his own mother.”
“That is exactly who you raised me to be!” If he had to spend one more second listening to Ina Moretta grouse about the evening news or the price of cream-filled donuts or his lack of gratitude when she woke him from the only sound sleep he’d had since the fucking bomb to show him a funny dog video on her phone, he was going to murder her.
“Hey!” A third voice joined the fray from the area of the front door.
Aldo crutched into the foyer, and his mother poked her head out of the kitchen.
Harper stood in the doorway, legs braced as if for a fight. She had a bulging bag in one hand.
“Come right on in, bursting into my house like that. Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?” Ina yelled.
“They must have died too soon, I guess,” Harper said several decibels above conversational tone.
Aldo blindsided her with a bear hug, dropping his crutches on the floor. He didn’t question this sudden rush of affection that welled up in him like hope. He didn’t care if he was just relieved that there was now someone present who would keep him from going to jail for homicide or if he was happy to see a friend he hadn’t let down.
Harper grabbed on to him and held tight. Aldo knew Luke would have given anything to trade places with him in that moment.
“Pick up your goddamn crutches! You know the doctors don’t want you walking unassisted yet!” His mother continued on, sprinkling some colorful Italian for variety.
“I’m glad you’re home. And alive,” Harper said into his chest.
“I will marry you and have your babies if you get me the hell out of this house. I have a PT appointment in thirty.”
Harper looked him up and down, and he tried not to flinch when her gaze lingered on the gleaming titanium that was now part of him.
“Luke might have a problem with the first, but I’d pay money to see the second. So it’s a deal. Besides, I want to see what you can do with that hardware.”
“I can do anything. They just won’t fucking let me.” The frustration bubbled up again, bleeding into the happy.
“If you don’t do what the doctors tell you, you’ll end up screwing up your stump or breaking that thing,” his mother warned pointing at his prosthesis.
“Mrs. Moretta, I’m going to take Aldo to his appointment today,” Harper said as a grin spread over her face. “Is there anything you need while we’re out?”
Ina grumbled for a moment. “Well, I suppose I could use another box of Chardonnay.”
Aldo used the cursed crutches to get to Harper’s VW Bug and then tossed them into the back seat before lowering himself gingerly into the passenger’s seat. Everything still hurt. Everything still exhausted him, and he didn’t like the whole “be patient” line about waiting for his strength and mobility to come back.What if the pain never went away? What if he missed his leg for the rest of his life?
Harper slid behind the wheel and started the ignition. The car purred to life, thanks to a complete overhauling Luke had surprised her with before deployment. His friend might be a scaredy-cat dumbass, but he was a thoughtful, generous one.
Aldo dropped his head against the seat. “I love that woman, but I swear to God, one of these days one of us is going to murder the other.”
Harper snickered and shifted into reverse. “That was World War III in there.”
“That’s what happens when you spend two fucking weeks straight with Ina Moretta. I think it was her goal to drive me crazy.”
“I hear that’s what moms are for,” Harper said, backing down the driveway into the street. “Where are we going?”
Aldo gave her directions, and they cruised their way out of town.
“By the way, there’s a bag of goodies in the back for you,” she told him.
Aldo swiveled in his seat and grabbed at the gift bag. “Where’s the candy?” he demanded. He treated his body like a temple ninety-nine percent of the time. That one percent was reserved for Skittles and Sour Patch Kids.
