Chapter 9

Sunday

Bria was absolutely no help whatsoever when I called to give her the latest news. I’m still experiencing a bit of hearing loss from her shrieks of excitement, quite truthfully. At the same time, she did come over while I was working, and brought several shirts she thought would work with my jeans and low-heeled boots. As I stand in my bathroom waiting for the water to heat in the shower, I mentally go through everything I need to do in order to get ready before he arrives.

“You’ve been out on a date before, silly,” I say out loud. “Granted, it’s been a few years, but the concept’s still the same. If you like someone or they like you, you spend time with each other, and go from there.”

But I like him so much, always have, even as a teenager when he was out of reach because he was dating Stacey. Plus, even though I’m scared to talk about my scars, they are a part of who I am now, and I need to know right from the start if they’re going to be an issue or deterrent for him or not. When Jonas broke off our engagement, I was devastated because I knew it was due to my injuries, and the fact that even with extensive surgeries, my body would always reflect the damage. However, looking back with clearer eyes, I now realize we probably wouldn’t have even made it to the altar.

Jonas expected perfection in every little thing, from my appearance, to what I did for a living. He never made it a secret that he didn’t think much of my career in the Navy; but those years, regardless of the outcome of my last mission, not only helped pay for my degree to become a nurse, but they also forced me to grow up and mature.

Because the day I stepped foot on the grounds at NAS Great Lakes up in Illinois, Uncle Sam owned me. I’m proud I served my country and was able to work with such a wide variety of people. I developed solid communication skills, which definitely helps me when I’m at work in the challenging, often exacerbating, emergency room in our little town of Possum Run.

Sighing, I push thoughts of Jonas into the abyss of my mind, determined that he will not be a dark cloud on something I’ve longed for. Stepping into the shower, I shampoo my hair then put conditioner on the layers to keep my hair from tangling, while at the same time, making it appear shiny, and feel smooth by leaving it in for three to five minutes as the directions state. The next step in my routine is to start the process of carefully washing and gently debriding the healing area on my thigh. The initial grafts done after my injury got infected, which caused my body to reject them, so once I was home, my parents sought out the best plastic surgeon they could find to treat the damage.

Dr. Barnard is probably the reason I still have a leg, and it didn’t have to be amputated because he wasted no time to start a course of aggressive treatment once he saw me at my appointment. I was in surgery the following day, then in ICU while he closely monitored everything. The worst part of it all were the compression garments I had to wear, much like a burn victim. They were hot and uncomfortable, plus they chafed. So, even though it’s obvious I had surgery, the skin is smooth, and as long as I abide by the instructions I was given, everything should be just fine. I still wear a lighter compression garment under my scrubs and jeans simply because of the tactile issue. The surgical area’s skin is still a bit thin and needs the extra layer of protection.

I take my time exfoliating, then shaving my legs, before applying the lotion I have to use to ensure the skin on my left side remains supple. I grin because I ended up with a ‘butt lift’ of sorts since most of my left cheek was ground up like hamburger due to the blast. Since Dr. Barnard is all about symmetry, he matched the right side, so I’ve got the perfect, shapely ass for any pair of jeans now.

Snickering at my musings, I finish my shower, then wrap a bath sheet around me so I can air dry, which my team of doctors prefer me to do, while I blow dry my hair. As I sit down at my vanity, and pull out my detangling brush, Pudge comes waddling over to me, meowing in greeting.

“Hello, sweet girl, are you coming to watch Mama get ready?” I ask, spritzing some heat protectant on my hair.

Her meows make me laugh, especially when she jumps up and proceeds to sit on the top of the vanity while looking at herself in the mirror. When she touches the reflection with her paw and hisses, I lose my battle and almost double up laughing. I make a mental note when cleaning to get the nose prints I’m sure will now be present on my mirrors around the house.

“Silly girl. I bet this is going to scare you,” I murmur, turning on my blow dryer.

* * *

With everything all spic and span, I sit in my living room waiting on Jett to arrive. I’ve talked to Bria three times, my mother twice, and considered canceling once. Only… I can’t, because despite my fear of rejection, I have to take this chance with him. I decide to read while I wait, glad I downloaded the reading app to my phone as I settle in to read about an alpha shifter rejecting his mate.

I’m so engrossed in the story that when my doorbell rings, I startle and cause both kittens to meow in protest. While I was engrossed with the story, they had come onto my lap, and burrowed into it to take a nap since I was just sitting there. Setting my phone down, I go to the door, check through the peephole to make sure it’s really Jett, then open it with a smile.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m a few minutes early, but didn’t want to hit any traffic along the way and end up being late.”

“It’s okay, I’m ready to go. I just need to grab my purse and a jacket.”

Once I’ve got everything, we head out after I admonish the kittens to behave, and lock up. He helps me into his truck, and while he’s going around to get in the driver’s side, I breathe in deeply, inhaling his scent so I can commit it to memory.

Our conversation is easy as we head to the movie theater, although I have to laugh when he tells me about Dusty’s inquisition. “He’s something else, isn’t he?” I ask, glancing over at him.

He’s got such a strong profile, but I watch as it softens when he thinks about his son. “He really is a good kid. He’s got ADHD, did you know that? It took me some time to wrap my head around the fact he would always struggle to a certain degree with impulsiveness. It’s one of the reasons he enjoys sports so much, I think. He can burn off that energy in a positive way.”

“None of us are perfect, Jett. I would term him precocious if I had to pick one word. He’s been raised in a family where it’s okay to be who he is, so he’s confident enough to ask questions when he doesn’t know things.”

“I like your perspective,” he softly replies, briefly smiling over at me as he reaches for my hand.

We walk hand-in-hand toward the ticket booth after a brief debate on where to park. He wanted to park closer so I wouldn’t have to walk as far, but I reminded him I would always let him know if I needed any kind of accommodation. Today is a good day, so I’m okay to walk. After the teenager tears our tickets and hands the stubs back to me, I carefully tuck them into my pocket to save.

“So, let’s hit the concession stand,” he says, leading me to the left.

“But we’re going to eat after the movie,” I reply.

“It’s not a proper movie date if we don’t have popcorn, sodas, and maybe some MMs,” he retorts, grinning down at me.

“Ah, I see your plan now,” I tease. “We’ll end up getting full here so at dinner, we’ll only want the salads.”

His chuckle sends shivers through me as we step up to the counter. “Well, surprisingly enough, they have these neat inventions called to-go boxes, so if we get full, we’ll just take what’s left home, Sunday. Now, tell the nice lady what you want.”

Like me, he prefers to sit high up, in the middle, and I’m not surprised when he lifts up the divider between our seats. As we settle in with the popcorn in between his legs, he grabs my hand and laces our fingers together, smiling down at me.

I return his smile before saying, “I hope the hype about this movie is true, don’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, I’m right where I want to be.”

* * *

“This has been one of the best dates I’ve ever had,” I confess as we walk out of the restaurant, him carrying the bag with our to-go boxes. We still managed to eat real food despite our gluttony at the movie theater, but we’ve both got leftovers for later.

“For me as well,” he replies, grinning down at me. After helping me climb into his truck, the bag securely nestled at my feet, I watch as he maneuvers around the front of the truck to get inside. When his phone pings, he glances down, and I see him grimace.

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

“Seems someone hit a transformer on my side of town and the power’s out until sometime tomorrow,” he replies, starting up the truck.

“Jett, you can’t stay at home! It’s dipping into the low thirties tonight,” I protest. “Dusty’s at your sister’s overnight, right? Why don’t we run by your place so you can get whatever you need, and you can stay at my house tonight.”

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“I’m positive.”

It’s time to embrace the future, regardless of my fears.