Page 1 of Sweet Devotion

Chapter One

The parallel bars were winning.

Aiden Boglioli would never say that out loud—not to the red-headed force of nature currently watching him from the end of the mat with her arms folded and a clipboard tucked under one elbow, and definitely not to the guy in the bed across the hall who complained about everything and had somehow made a full recovery ahead of schedule, which Aiden chose to find inspirational rather than infuriating. Standing in the PT room of the Army hospital, just as he had every day for weeks, he would say it to himself, because a man should at least be honest with himself, and the truth was the bars were winning.

He shifted his weight and reset his grip on the bars.

“Slow it down.”

He didn’t. All he wanted was to forget the convoy blast ever happened. Forget he’d been blown clear of the truck and that a concussion and pelvic ring fracture with joint instability kept him from getting up and walking away. And right now, forget that these damn bars were winning over his determination to strut with confidence and not a limp.

The therapist said something else, but it blurred under the sound of metal and rubber and his own breath. He stepped forward again, forcing the movement, ignoring the hitch when his left side lagged half a beat behind the right.

The redhead raised a single brow at him. “You’re compensating again.”

“I’m walking.”

On a heavy sigh, she barely shook her head. “You’re waddling.”

Something deep in his core protested, sharp and quick, then settled into a dull burn he could work around. He adjusted. Shifted more weight to the right. Shortened the stride on the left. It wasn’t pretty, but it got the job done. “A man who beat every kid on his block in a barefoot sprint across the sand at Orchard Beach does not waddle.”

“Orchard Beach?”

“In the Bronx.”

“Right.” Stepping forward, she set two fingers against his right hip. “You’re dropping this side to protect the left. Square up.”

He squared up. His left hip sent another nasty message to his brain, terser this time.

“There.” She stepped back. “Now walk.”

He walked. Slower than he’d moved in his entire adult life. Slower than the elderly woman in Room twelve who used a walker and still beat him to the coffee station every morning. One measured step, then another, the bars cool and solid under his palms, the fluorescent lights above giving everything in this room the same flat, unforgiving quality.

Halfway down the bars the door to the PT suite whooshed open behind him. He didn’t bother to look. Turning around on the parallel bars was not in his current repertoire.

“You look like a man who has spent too much time on a horse.” The voice was unhurried, dry.

Aiden made it to the end of the bars. Gripping the terminal post more tightly, he turned—carefully, deliberately—and found Staff Sergeant Kade Sweet leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed and a look on his face that did its level best to pass for casual. Beside him, wearing the expression of a man trying not to smile and not entirely succeeding, Josh Coleman took in the room with a single sweep.

“Comedian.” The single word was all Aiden could muster at the moment.

“I’m here nightly all week.” Grinning, Kade pushed off the doorframe.

The physical therapist looked from one visitor to the other, barely nodding before making a note on the clipboard. “Five more lengths. Don’t drop the hip.”

“I never drop the hip,” Aiden did his best not to snap—not in front of his sergeant.

Closing her eyes and heaving a sigh, the woman forced a smile and walked away.

“That wouldn’t be Attila, would it?” Kade watched her go.

Aiden took a second to catch his breath before answering. “The one and only.”

Scanning the room the way he scanned every room—exits, obstructions, anything that moved—Kade nodded. “How’s the hip?”

“Fine.” Aiden started back down the bars. He wasn’t going to stop his session because they’d shown up. He wasn’t going to give his hip the satisfaction. “We’re making progress.” He kept his eyes forward, the far wall, the motivational poster that said Every Step Forward over a picture of a mountain that had nothing to do with pelvic fractures. “You two didn’t drive out here to watch me waddle.”

“No.” Kade lifted his chin in a gesture that told Aiden an order was forthcoming. “Discharge paperwork cleared this morning.”