The Wounded Read Free

gave his husband an affectionate smile. “And Mark chats up people in grocery checkout lines. He’s never met a stranger.”
    “Stranger? What’s that?” Only a few years separated Jase and Mark, but in that moment, Mark appeared so young and carefree,
    that is, until Jase winced. “What? What’s wrong?” He immediately hurried to Jase’s side.
    “I forgot to turn the iron off.”
    Mark blew out a relieved sounding sigh. “I’ll go get it.”
    “No.” Jase locked eyes with Mark. “No, you three go on down. I’ll catch up.” He nodded to Jay and
    Michael. “Meet you downstairs?”
    A questioning glance at Michael received a nod. Oh shit. No way to back out gracefully now, not with others watching.
    “Should we wait for Jase?” Jay asked.
    “Nah,” Mark replied, eyes on Jase’s retreating back. Though he shuffled a bit slowly, if Mark hadn’t told Jay about
    Jase’s injuries, Michael would never have guessed that the man lost a leg in the attack on his base.
    Jay raised a brow in Michael’s direction.
    Michael did his best to exhale slowly and not huff out a sigh. “Come on then, let’s go find a table.”
    “So, Michael,” Mark said, finally ripping his eyes from his mate, “Jay tells me you’re in college. So am I.
    What’re you taking?”
    They talked about school during the elevator’s descent. Michael took a deep breath when the doors opened. A few people stood chatting in the
    lobby, but not enough to induce fight or flight instincts.
    Tasteful decorations in the banquet hall welcomed them. And not a military insignia in sight. Some attendees dressed in business casual attire, like Jay,
    Michael, Jase, and Mark, others wore jeans, and Michael spotted a suit or two. A dozen tables, each surrounded by eight chairs, filled the room.
    They sat down at an out of the way table. “Can we join you?” a man and woman, who looked roughly the same age as Jay, Michael, and
    Mark, asked. Michael tried not to figure out what infirmity found the newcomers at a The Wounded event.
    ***
    Jase keyed into their room and slammed the door behind him. He rattled through his suitcase looking for his anxiety medication. He slumped onto the bed,
    his breathing ragged. Forgot to turn the iron off. Yeah, that was believable. He raked his fingers through his hair, trying desperately to quell the
    panic. All those people, together in one room. Looking at him, judging him because he’d only lost a leg, while others had lost multiple limbs,
    eyes, parts of their faces.
    He snapped the lid off the lorazepam and popped one into his mouth, swallowing without water. He did some of the relaxation techniques he’d
    practiced with Mark until his heart stopped trying to burst from his chest and he felt more normal. He sucked in a deep breath and made it to the banquet
    room without a full blown panic attack. Mark turned and waved to him. It seemed Mark was always aware of where Jase was. Jase gave a weak smile and strode
    toward the table.
    “Did you get the iron taken care of?” Mark asked, reaching out to stroke Jase’s leg.
    “Yeah, we’re good.”
    Jase glanced up and caught Michael’s eyes. A moment of silent understanding passed. Though Michael didn’t walk with a limp, the
    sympathy in his eyes said he understood. Perhaps he did.

Chapter Three
    Dinner was good. Creamy tomato bisque started off the fare, followed by a field green salad, steak and potatoes, and some kind of chocolaty dessert that
    puffed up like a marshmallow, but tasted like pudding.
    Michael tuned into the conversation around him, content to hear from the others, only contributing when asked a direct question. Jay knew the drill and
    handled the situation well.
    Terri and Greg, the other couple at the table, had met in service, and looked each other up once they were stateside.
    “What about you two,” Terri asked, zigzagging a finger between Mark and Jase.
    Jase flushed, but Mark spoke up without hesitation. “Jase here was my first and