“Oh yes.” I slid my hand away from his broad chest, letting it graze the ridges of his sternum. Would he have noticed if I had left it there a few extra seconds?
I reached in my bag for the blood pressure cuff. I wrapped it around his upper arm, taking in the way his muscles flexed under my fingers. I began to pump the gauge and tried to focus on the needle, not his eyes.
“Eighty over one-twenty. Perfect.” I smiled, reporting the result.
“See? I told you I’m in excellent health.”
“It’s good to have these records, Captain…I mean Brett. We hope you don’t need them, but emergencies happen, right?”
His eyes narrowed and I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or interested. “Right.”
“How have you been feeling since you’ve been home? Any fever? Coughing?” I asked as my hands slid along his neck, searching for any signs of inflamed glands.
He swallowed. “No. I feel fine. Really.”
“What about headaches? Blurry vision?”
“No. None of that.”
“That’s good.” I tried to think of what the next standard procedure was, but being this close to him made me forget a routine I had performed hundreds of times.
“What about your appetite?”
“Haven’t missed a meal.”
I sat back to record his answers on the clipboard. “And are you sleeping? Any changes in your routine?”
“I sleep fine, doc. Anything else?”
“Yes.” I handed him a pamphlet.
I was here as part of the volunteer program, not to gawk at him. “Now that you’re home we know that there is probably going to be a transition period. There are some phone numbers here if you need help adjusting. There are counselors available twenty-four seven. We want you to know you aren’t alone.”
“Wait, are you recommending a shrink?”
I nervously bit at my lip. “No. It’s only if you need the numbers. They are here if you need them, Brett. That’s all.”
“I told you I’m fine. You just said it yourself. Perfect health.”
The vitals checked out, but I got the sense that he was overpro
tective. He didn’t want me to prod into his life. I remembered what Dr. Mors told me last night about the men who tried to throw him out. They didn’t want help or interference. Brett was obviously strong, proud, and capable. But it didn’t mean I couldn’t help him if he needed it. I wasn’t just going to walk out the door and ignore everything he had been through. I needed answers. I wanted to know more about him. More about his life in the Army.
“How long have you been gone?” I asked.
“That’s not on your form?” He glanced at the clipboard.
“No. It’s not. I’m guessing the anonymous tip didn’t know that either. So why don’t you tell me? When did you leave home last?”
He lowered his eyes. “It’s been two years.”
“Wow. I didn’t think deployments were that long. Is that normal for the Army?”
He huffed. “What I do isn’t normal for the Army. I can’t say anything else about my assignment. So don’t ask,” he warned.
“All right. I won’t ask. But, I can’t imagine what it would like to be out of the country for that long. To be away from where you’re from. Two years is a long time to be away from home. I think it would be normal if you wanted to talk to someone about it. To talk about the parts that aren’t related to your assignment.” I smiled.
“Is that something you do? Are you offering?”