“This isn’t forever, Caleb.” She sprayed my arms and chest, wetting my hair last. “Some of the patients I cared for after the bombing lost limbs. One was paralyzed from the waist down. You’re one of the lucky ones.”

“Lucky?” I huffed, almost laughing. “Nothing about this is lucky. It’s fucking hell.”

“It’s going to get better, I promise.” She squirted shampoo on her hand, massaging my scalp before lathering up a washcloth. She started at my neck, rubbing up and down, and moved on to my shoulders. “Lean forward just a tiny bit for me.”

The tightness instantly hit, the stinging triggered next. I stabbed my fingers into the armrests, trying to breathe through it.

“I’m going to take off your bandages and clean your incision.” She held my skin, so the tape wouldn’t pull, removing each side. “It looks fantastic.” She gently pressed the cloth against the area. “No sign of infection. You’re healing perfectly.” She continued to cleanse it. “Would you like me to get a mirror, so you can see?”

“No.”

Her motions halted. “Have you seen your incision?”

I shook my head. “And I don’t plan to.”

“Why not? There’s nothing scary about it.”

My frustration erupted. “Because this fucking wheelchair and the walker I have to use and this relentless pain are reminders enough. I don’t need to see the scar too.”

She came around to the front, bending so our faces were level. “It’s a part of you now. A sign that you withstood a bombing and a ten-hour surgery, and you came out the other side as a hero who had survived something so incredibly tragic.”

“And what did it leave me with? Half the man I was and living with agony until I die. That’s not a hero, Whitney; that’s a handicap.” The emotion was in my hands and throat. “Maybe one day, I’ll face it. Right now, I can’t even stomach it.”

She scrubbed my legs, dragging the cloth to my feet. “I wish you saw yourself the way I do.” She cleaned my arms and handed me the rag. “I wish you could see how far you’ve already come.”

Hope and courage stared back from this beautiful woman’s eyes.

But it didn’t reach me. Inside, I felt nothing. Not even a sense of pleasure when she had been bathing me.

“I’m going to leave. I’ll be back in a minute to wash you off.”