“One of the doctors mentioned that I should look into getting some help around the house,” he said. “Since I'm right-handed and all.”
“That might not be a bad idea,” I agreed as I fastened the last of the bandages in place before stripping off my gloves. “I can't tell you how much use you'll get back, but I can tell you it'll be a long process.”
“Thanks, Nori.” He reached over and touched my arm. “It means a lot to me that you were honest and didn't try to sugarcoat it.”
I gave him a smile that was sadder than the one I'd given him before. “I wish I could say that you'll be all okay and good as new in a few weeks, but you're a tough guy, Ivar. You'll get through it.”
“You know,” he said. “You're right.” He tried to give me the kind of smile that he always did, but not all of the sparkle reached his eyes. “Maybe you should be the person to come help me.”
I shook my head and smiled. “I'm a nurse, Ivar. You need an assistant.”
“I have one of those,” he said. “And a gardener and a housekeeper. But you know what I don't have? A nurse.”
“You're impossible.” I laughed. “I'm not in the private sector.”
“You should be,” he said. “It'd pay a hell of a lot more than you make here. Especially if you got some higher end clients. And with the references your former patients would give, I don't think that'd be a problem.”
“I don't know about that,” I said. “I'm nothing special. All of the nurses here are excellent at their job.”
He caught my hand with his good one. “I'm serious, Nori. I don't know how I would've gotten through any of this without you.”
His fingers tightened around mine, but I knew he wasn't hitting on me. There was nothing sexual about his touch.
“If you ever decide that you want to work independently, come to me. I'll get you in touch with the right people.”
“Thanks, Ivar.” I smiled as he released my hand. “I'll keep that in mind.”
As I left his room to continue on my rounds, I pushed his offer aside. It wasn't going to happen. I loved working at the hospital, despite the occasional Leta Coffee. I'd come here because I wanted to make a difference, specifically to the military men and women who found themselves here. It was my way of serving.
I'd have to have a hell of a reason to leave it for the private sector.
Chapter Three
Xavier
It had taken Zed all of two minutes to scope out our prospects for the night. We'd gotten a bit of a later start than Zed wanted, but I'd told him it was his fault. I'd been happy with the jeans and t-shirt combination I'd picked, but Zed had vetoed it. He'd eventually come up with a black t-shirt that I'd been meaning to throw away because it'd shrunk an entire size. Zed had insisted it was fashionably tight. I'd worn it more to shut him up than anything else. At least he'd let me keep the jeans.
No matter how many times I told him that I was perfectly capable of dressing myself and finding a woman, he didn't quite believe me. As obsessed with my apparent lack of fashion as he was, if I hadn't known how much he loved women, I would've thought he was gay.
“Let me guess.”
A woman's voice came from my right.
“You're the wingman.”
I turned to see a tall, athletically built woman with short, cinnamon-colored curls walking toward me. She had a pleasant face and knew how to use her makeup to accent her best features, which were clearly those dark blue eyes.
“What gave it away?” I asked wryly.
“Your friend is dancing with my roommate.” She gestured toward the dance floor where Zed had plastered himself to a petite blonde.
I chuckled and gestured to the barstool next to me. “Let me buy you a drink.”
“Thanks.” She sat down, crossing one impossibly long leg over the other. “I'm Nance.”
She put out her hand for me to shake, and I did. Nice and firm, without being masculine. “I'm X.”
“X?”
I grinned. “Yeah. It's short for Xavier.”
She nodded and gave me a lingering once-over. “I like it. Easier to scream in bed.”
My eyebrows went up, and I didn't bother to mask my surprise at her forward comment. “I suppose it is.”
She smiled at me and motioned to the bartender. “Madras, please.”
“Another Jack and Coke for me,” I said when he looked over at me.
“Nice ink.” She motioned to my left arm.
“Thanks.” I glanced down even though I knew what it looked like.
The vines wound up my arm from my wrist, disappearing under my shirt sleeve, then across my shoulder and chest until they connected with the rose I'd had done over my heart. Two sets of initials were inside the rose, AH and MH. That had been my first tattoo. Two months after my eighteenth birthday. Two months after I'd decided I was going to do something with my life.