2015 Top Ten Gay Romance

Chapter 1-2

Wade sat in room number three, reclining on the padded platform where he would stretch, bend, and lift the mass of scarred flesh that once resembled his leg. The shrapnel from the grenade had sliced up his thigh, taking nerves and muscle with it. Tendons were severed, but after countless surgeries they were repaired enough to give him limited function. The skin grafts came from his other leg and back, leaving even more delightful scars. Add a couple bolts to his neck and he’d be Frankenstein. He’d pushed most of the agonizing aftermath of the surgeries to the back of his conscious mind. He had enough nightmares to deal with.

Wade knew he’d spend the rest of his life in rooms like this one—torture chambers disguised as rehab facilities. Tentacle-esque cables and cold metallic clamps from various pieces of exercise equipment filled the space. Recumbent bikes and treadmills lay in wait for their victims under the harsh fluorescent lighting. The brightly colored balance balls and free weights were a pathetic attempt to cheer up the place, but they merely reminded him that pain could come from all colors of the rainbow.

He inhaled the nauseatingly sweet smell of hospital solvent telling him they had recently doused the room with cleaning agents. However, like bad cologne, it only masked the stench of desperation and despair. Most of the equipment needed nearly as much repair as the patients. Veterans’ hospitals rarely received adequate funding being so far down on the totem pole when it came to the federal budget. And what money they did get was at the discretion of hospital administrators who didn’t always have their patients’ best interests in mind. Funny how a country could talk such a good game about honoring their vets, and yet never put their money where their mouth was.

Normally, there were other vets in the PT rooms with him, moaning and groaning and cursing life as their physical therapists encouraged them to “breathe through the pain.” Dr. Allen had done much of the cursing during his appointments, but he didn’t blame her. He knew how to push her buttons. Today, he was alone. And he preferred it that way. Hearing other vets suffer took him to a wretched place inside, although not nearly as wretched as when he was home alone, in those dark hours when all he wanted was to end the pain and suffering for good.

A light rap on the door sounded before Dr. Okenah came in.

“Wade.” The doc greeted him with another easy smile.

Wade shivered unexpectedly, the sound of his name from the doc’s mouth like a hot breath at the base of his spine. Where the hell did that come from? He shook his head derisively.

“We’ll take your vitals and stretch your leg before I run you through the exercises.” Dr. Okenah rubbed a few drops of antibacterial gel into his hands and Wade forced himself to look away. He wondered what those hands would feel like on his skin. Callused and rough? Soft as velvet? f**k, he needed to get a grip.

The doc grabbed the temperature unit near the wall. After waiting for its signal, he placed the thermometer in Wade’s mouth as Wade chanced a nervous glance up at him. The doc’s eyes were impossibly dark, the same color as RoboBeth’s out front, but with depth and…soul. Warmth spread through Wade’s belly as if he had just downed a shot of bourbon. He gulped and the thermometer beeped. The doc removed it.

“Sorry again for…out there.” Wade gestured in the direction of the reception desk.

Dr. Okenah tossed the thermometer cover into the garbage. “I’d be upset, too, if I came all the way out here for nothing.”

“I shouldn’t have let it get to me.”

The doc pulled up a stool, rolling to sit in front of Wade, smirking. “Well, Beth could use some work on her people skills.”

“I’ve known combat drones with more personality.”

Dr. Okenah laughed—a deep, rich sound. He reached out for Wade’s arm then hesitated. “May I touch you, now?”

Wade felt his cheeks flush and he shoved his arm out.

Dr. Okenah chuckled. “I’m just giving you a hard time.”

He slid two long fingers over the inside of Wade’s wrist. Hmm, soft as velvet. Damn him again. The man may not have been handsome by traditional standards, but Wade found him striking. The sienna complexion and angular features that hinted at his Native American heritage also gave him an earthy sensuality—rugged and strong without the grit. He wanted to see all that long black hair free and flowing. He reminded Wade of some stoic warrior turned heavy metal god. Mercy. Since he couldn’t pick out any gray strands in the sleek ponytail, and the only wrinkles were those near the corners of his eyes, Wade guessed he was in his early thirties, a few years younger than himself. The doc looked comfortable in his own skin and Wade liked that. He leaned toward the doc, the scent of aloe and autumn leaves a refreshing contrast to the vile odor of the hospital.

“Your pulse is slightly high,” the doctor said, removing his fingers. “But that’s understandable when you’re agitated.”

Oh, he was agitated all right. But this kind of agitation fluttered in his stomach and tingled in his groin. “Will you let me know when you hear about Dr. Allen?” Wade asked, hoping to distract his body from going down that road.

Dr. Okenah smiled crookedly, and Wade held back a sigh. Oh brother, he had a problem. “Of course.”

Wade nodded.

“I’ll let her know you asked about her.”

“Sure, but she won’t believe it. I’ve never been the most considerate patient.”

The doc’s brow rose as if to say, “No, really?” but he remained silent as he tore open the Velcro of the blood pressure cuff.

“I’m not that bad,” Wade insisted.

“You get angry often?”

“Not too often,” Wade lied. He gazed down at the floor, shame creeping over him like the evening fog.

The doc moved on. “How about depression?”

Wade didn’t know why he bothered to ask. It was all laid out in his chart. Didn’t he know how embarrassing it was to talk about this s**t? Naming those feelings only made him feel worse, as if somehow speaking them aloud gave them more power. Everyone already knew he was broken. Why beat a dead horse? Wade finally nodded, but the doc didn’t press the issue.

Instead, Dr. Okenah slid his hand under the sleeve of Wade’s t-shirt, pushing the material out of the way for the blood pressure cuff. Wade instinctively flexed his arm, his skin prickling with goosebumps at the touch. Knowing the doc couldn’t have missed that as he wrapped the cuff around Wade’s arm, Wade flushed again. Why had he stopped doing his push-ups? His arms weren’t as solid as they used to be. Hell, neither was the rest of him. But glancing up at the doc had Wade suddenly wishing for a lot of things—that he had trimmed his shaggy beard, put on a cleaner t-shirt, or even combed his unruly hair. The ache in his c**k signaled his overriding wish.

The sound of the Velcro ripping open jolted him back to grim reality.

“Also on the high side, but fine,” the doc said, replacing the equipment. He grabbed Wade’s chart and rested his elbows on his knees.

Wade contemplated how sexy Dr. Okenah would look in glasses, the thin frames perched on the bridge of his nose, accentuating his pronounced cheek bones and square jaw.

“Your primary physician prescribed Paxil for the depression,” he stated, glancing up at Wade.

Another wish—that Dr. Okenah didn’t know his medical history. According to his chart, the bum leg was the best part about him, and Wade knew he couldn’t prove it wrong. Why did he care anyway? Like the doc would ever be interested in him. A miserable collection of patch-ups and ragged scars, both outside and in. Wade huffed. “I don’t take it anymore. It made me fat.”

Dr. Okenah’s gaze traveled over his body, slowly, and Wade’s heart thumped excitedly against his chest—the stupidly naïve thing. “You don’t look fat to me.”

Wade’s cheeks burned. “I lost five of the ten pounds I gained.”

“But was it working for your depression?”

Wade shrugged. “Not really.” The meds had barely scratched the surface.

“Did you tell your doctor?”

Wade hadn’t seen his primary doctor for months, his therapist even longer. What were their names’ again?

“Tell him,” the doctor said, snapping the chart shut. “But I’m not here to lecture you.”

That was a first. Dr. Allen would have harped on him for the rest of his appointment.

Dr. Okenah stood and put the chart in a pocket on the wall. “On your back. Time to stretch your leg.”

Wade lay down with his legs straight, the words on your back ringing in his ears. If only. When the doc closed a large hand around Wade’s ankle, Wade was glad his jogging pants were a size too big, allowing enough material to cloak his interest as well as hide his gnarled leg.

“Now don’t go all tough-guy on me. Let me know as soon as you feel any tightness or discomfort,” the doctor said before lifting Wade’s ankle in small increments.

In this position next to the doc, tightness and discomfort were a given, but not necessarily in his leg. The man studied his face while he conducted the movements and Wade felt sweat bead on his brow. When his leg made it up to nearly a thirty degree angle, Wade inhaled sharply. “Tight!”

“Where?”

“Back of my knee and hamstring,” Wade replied in one quick breath.

“Okay, easy now. Deep breaths.”

“You mean, breathe through the pain?” Wade chuckled, but his leg jerked, making him groan.

The doc smirked. “You’re doing great.” He moved his other hand to the back of Wade’s knee and gently pressed his thumb into the hollow.

Wade gasped. s**t!

Dr. Okenah paused. “Pain?”

That was an understatement. “Yes,” he choked out.

The doctor moved his thumb firmly around the tender pocket behind his knee, and gradually, Wade felt the tension melt away. “f**k, that’s nice.” He closed his eyes for a moment, cautiously releasing his breath. “Sorry for the language.”

Dr. Okenah chuckled. “Not a problem.”

He continued with the massage, slowly moving his magical thumb upward over the lower part of Wade’s hamstring. Wade’s breath caught as the doc hit another tense area.

“Breathe,” the doctor murmured, his low voice near hypnotic.

Wade swallowed and tried to concentrate on the air moving through his diaphragm rather than the searing pain. He would have preferred to focus on Dr. Okenah’s capable hands kneading his taut muscles, imagining how they would feel massaging lower and down his inner thigh. What if the doc accidentally brushed his groin? s**t. Would he notice the hard-on? Maybe the doc would offer to massage it, palming him expertly through his pants, Wade’s hips thrusting upward to the man’s touch. Oh God. He needed a distraction. Old ladies. War. RoboBeth!

“Why haven’t I seen you here before? Or do you only come out to pacify combative patients?” Wade cringed. It sounded like a bad pick-up line.

Dr. Okenah snorted. “I’ve only been here two weeks. I came from the Lawton Indian Hospital.”

“I bet this place is quite a change. It’s five times the size.” Wade grimaced as the doc’s fingers wrapped around his quadriceps.

Dr. Okenah paused. “Okay?”

Wade nodded, and the doctor went to work massaging the area just above his knee.

“I’m a much smaller fish in a bigger pond here, but I don’t mind. I enjoy working with vets. We had quite a few at the Indian Hospital.”

Wade didn’t doubt that. Some of the finest soldiers he knew were Native American.

Dr. Okenah inched his leg upward and Wade cursed.

“Sorry. Are you doing the exercises Dr. Allen prescribed for you?”

Wade took a breath and lied. Again. “Sometimes.”

“How often?”

Never. “A couple times a week.”

Dr. Okenah’s black eyes pinned him with a look of disbelief, and Wade suddenly found a fascinating speck of dirt on the ceiling. “You should be doing those exercises every day.” The doc thankfully returned to the massage. “What’s a typical day look like for you?”

Pointless. “I make breakfast. Do some computer work for my part-time job. Make lunch. More work. Cook dinner. Watch TV. Maybe read. Try to sleep. Repeat.” Listing it out like this didn’t help his self-esteem.

“You make all your meals?”

Wade nodded. “I don’t get out much anymore.” Might as well hand him that Most Pathetic Man of the Year award now.

“How many times do you get up and move around when you’re working at the computer?”

“Once or twice.” If he felt ambitious.

“How often do you go shopping for food?”

“I get it delivered. I’d rather be in active combat than maneuver around the supermarket with this leg.” Even with a cart to support him, the process would take hours. He had difficulty bending and reaching, and he dreaded his leg seizing up in public.

Dr. Okenah stared at him for a moment. Why the f**k did he need to have such long eyelashes?

“What about other daily exercise besides what Dr. Allen prescribed, like walks?”

Wade shook his head. He didn’t go out for walks. “If I fell I wouldn’t be able to get back up. Lying helpless on the ground isn’t my idea of fun.”

“Yet being holed up in your house all day is?”

“At least I have some control there.”

“Maybe you should let that go.” It was a simple statement, but it stuck Wade like a white-hot cattle prod. Deep inside his anger rushed forth, breaking free from its makeshift prison.

Wade grabbed Dr. Okenah’s wrist. “What gives you the right to talk to me about control? The last time I let go, it led to a dead civilian and a grenade up my ass. Control is all I have left, and I plan to hold onto it.”

Wade’s face was hot and his heart raced. Dr. Okenah didn’t move and Wade realized he still held on to the man. He released the doc quickly, fighting to keep his breathing calm. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Damn worthless trick.

Once again he allowed the anger to override his good sense. Another blasted failure. The silence between them was as thick as commissary coffee. Wade wondered if he should just go. It would save the doc the trouble of having him tossed out. He knew the drill. Dr. Allen had threatened to call hospital security the few times he had blown up, but he had never actually laid a hand on her.

“I—”

Dr. Okenah cut him off with a hand to his arm. He didn’t expect it to be so warm, and soothing.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s my fault,” the doctor said.

Guilt washed over him. “No, doc. I should never have—”

“Please,” Dr. Okenah interrupted again. “What I said was out of line. I shouldn’t be throwing around advice when I don’t know you, and I’m sorry.”

Wade didn’t know what to say. Why was the doc apologizing to him?

Dr. Okenah moved back to massaging Wade’s leg, and Wade managed to get his breathing back to normal. He didn’t understand why the doc was letting him off the hook so easily, but he appreciated the man’s patience. It had been a while since anyone had tried to understand what he was going through. The shrapnel may have torn through his leg, but the real wounds festered deep within his soul, and he worried they would never heal.

The doctor inched Wade’s leg up slightly higher and pain sliced through him.

Wade yelped. “I deserved that.”

Dr. Okenah chuckled. “I swear I’m not trying to hurt you. I want to help get you better. And that will only come with more stretching and more exercise.” He turned on his stool to get closer to the mat, carefully resting Wade’s calf on his broad shoulder. Working his thigh with those talented fingers, the burning pain gradually eased up, making Wade very aware of their closeness. One slip of the doc’s hand and…they were right back to Wade’s fantasy. He swept that thought away before his d**k could get wind of it.

“I don’t trust myself walking alone,” Wade suddenly confessed, cursing at himself and blaming it on the intimacy of their position.

Dr. Okenah’s gaze rested on Wade, studying him as if trying to read his thoughts. “You managed to get here.”

“I just have to make it to my truck and back. It’s not easy, either.”

“It’s a start.”

“But it’s not enough.”

“You’re right. It’s not.” Dr. Okenah bit his lip as if in thought. f*****g adorable. Wade curled his hands into fists. This man was driving him nuts.

“What about family or friends that can help you?” Dr. Okenah asked.

“Nope.”

The doctor only nodded, still worrying his lip, that sexy…full…bottom lip. Wade wondered what it would feel like under his tongue, between his teeth, or sliding over his c**k? Hell. Wade pounded his fist on the mat just as the doc pushed his leg up again.

“Pain?” Dr. Okenah asked, concern in his onyx eyes.

“Yes!” Wade replied, thankful for the cover.

They continued with more stretches that were as excruciating as expected, and then the doc took him through a series of exercises he could do at home, much like the ones Dr. Allen had prescribed. He had Wade walk up and down the blocks of steps, through the parallel bars, and even had him spend time riding the stationary bike. By the end of his appointment, his leg throbbed as if it would explode, but he felt productive. He hadn’t felt like that in a long time. Maybe the saying “no pain, no gain” had merit after all.

“In case Dr. Allen isn’t back next week, we should throw in some upper body work,” Dr. Okenah said as he made some notes in Wade’s chart.

“You saying my arms are weak?” Wade flexed a bicep with mock hurt.

The doc chuckled. “All I’m saying is that you should keep your strength training balanced.”

“Nice save,” Wade replied as Dr. Okenah threw him a towel.

“That is, if you’d want to work with me again.” The doctor took the towel from him.

Hell, yeah.

Dr. Okenah leaned against the wall, tucking his pen into his shirt pocket. Wade couldn’t believe this guy. He’d nearly bitten the man’s head off—twice—and yet the doc was asking Wade if he wanted to work with him? Common sense told Wade he shouldn’t get involved with someone he could come to respect. Inevitably, the doc would realize Wade was far too broken for any kind of relationship, professional or otherwise, and Wade would hate to disappoint him. His failed mission in Afghanistan was just the first in a long line of failures, and he lacked the courage to end the cycle.

Still, Dr. Okenah was a breath of fresh air amid the staleness of his dull, empty life. It had been a while since he had been attracted to anyone, let alone interested enough to want companionship. Not that anything would ever come of it, but it was nice all the same.

“Only if you promise to do that magic trick with your fingers again at the beginning of our next session,” Wade said.

Dr. Okenah quirked a single dark brow, and Wade’s temperature rose. “Magic, huh?” The doc smiled.

Wade pulled out his collar to cool down. So much for common sense. Hot damn.

“Deal,” the doctor said, and Wade hoped he hadn’t just shot himself in the foot. The one attached to the good leg.