Page 1 of Take Me Big Boy
Prologue
Matt
“Galloway,what’s that—”
I jolt awake, my body screaming in protest. A deafening beeping noise pierces through the fog in my brain, pulling me back before I can sink into a dark and comforting abyss. Pain crashes over every inch of my body. My skin is damp and achy. My limbs feel heavy, like leaden weights anchored to the bed. I try to move, to shift, but it feels like too much of an effort.
Bed?
What am I doing in bed?Last thing I remember is...
Fuck, I can’t think when that annoying beeping sound won’t fucking stop. Did Johnny sneak a phone into the base again? We’re not supposed to be using them for another couple of weeks at least. Not while we’re deployed in...
Goddamn it, Johnny! Turn the fucking thing off.
I open my mouth to tell him to get the damned thing away from my ear, but...nothing. My lips part, and the words are at the tip of my tongue, but nothing comes out. Not a sound.
Slowly, I try to open my eyes, but they feel glued shut. When I finally force them apart, I’m assaulted by blinding lights. I squeeze my eyes shut, a groan escaping my lips. I try again, this time cracking them open just a sliver. The room swims into focus—sterile white and muted color, blurred at first, then sharpening as I blink.
My gaze drifts, searching for the source of the sound, and it’s…a heart monitor? My brows furrow as I follow the tubes snaking from my body, disappearing beneath the sheets. I try to lift my hand and push off the sheets when a sharp, stinging pain shoots through my arm and I realize I have an IV line.
What the fuck is going on?
Confusion claws at me as I try to recall how I got here. The last thing I remember is leaving the base with my squad and then...nothing. Fear, cold and sharp, begins to creep into my awareness. I’m here, butwhereis here? And where the fuck is everyone else? Johnny? Miller? Did I fall sick before we could leave? Still, this doesn’t look anything like the hospital back at the base. Was I flown out?
“Good, you’re awake.”
I turn my eyes to follow the shadow of a woman that takes form as she steps into the room. She’s older—gray-streaked hair pinned back, kind lines around her mouth, the steady manner of someone who has worked nights for decades. She walks to the side of my bed and scribbles something on the notepad she’s carrying. “Your vitals are good,” she hums as she lifts her gaze, blue eyes meeting my brown ones, and gives me a kind smile. “The doctor should be with you soon.”
“Water,” I croak.
“Of course, but just a few sips to wet your throat. I’m sure it’s sore. You can’t have anything to eat or drink right before your surgery.”
The straw she puts between my lips feels like a lifeline, and as the cool water sweeps along my dry throat, I begin to feel human again. The fog in my head clears slightly, and my voice feels less scratchy when I clear it. “Too loud,” I manage with a tired sigh.
“We can silence the heart monitor now that you’re awake. The doctor...” Her voice trails off when the door opens. We both turn, expecting to see a man in a white coat walk in, but instead, someone else enters, and the familiar face gives me a terrible start. Seeing my unit leader in a wheelchair sends my heart galloping in my chest with fear unlike anything I’ve felt before.
“Miller.”
“Had enough beauty sleep, Galloway?” There is a grin on his face, one that borders on relief, but there is something else behind those green eyes. “You’ve been sleeping for days, man. Your heart stopped a few times and gave us quite the scare there. I thought you’d never wake up.”
“Coma?”
“Four days,” he says, wheeling to the side of the bed. His entire left leg is in a cast, and there are bruises all over his face. This makes no fucking sense.
“What happened?” I croak out. “Your leg…”
“I was lucky,” he responds, a grim look crossing his face. “We both were.”
“What happened?” I repeat, more urgently this time.
“You don’t remember the attack?”
“Remember...”
Attack seems to be the magic word—as if a switch flips in my brain and brings to light my last memories. They come in flashes, rough and brutal. Punishing. Suddenly I remember the drive, the laughter in the Humvee as we rode down a familiar path we’d taken over a dozen times before. Then the screaming. The chaos. The yelling and the pained grunts before everything went black.
“They believe that our unit hit an IED planted on the road. The explosion—”
