Free Twisted in Tulips by Nikki Duncan Page A

Clint looked as fit as he had the day they’d finished boot camp. They’d met at a recruiting weekend, signed up, trained, served and almost died together.
    “Busy sulking.”
    “I don’t sulk.” He tucked his stump behind his back, remembering the horror that had stamped his buddy’s face last time. Hiding himself from people had become second nature, because if Clint hadn’t been able to look at him, how would anyone else?
    “Not anymore anyway.” Clint backed Jace inside and shut the door. “It’s Friday night. I have leave. Get dressed. We’re going out.”
    He’d have refused anyone else on principle. Clint wasn’t anyone, but still Jace didn’t immediately agree. “Why are you here? Why’d you stay away?”
    “Guilt.” Plain and simple, with no pretense or bullshit evasions, Clint shrugged. “I’d just cost my best friend his arm and career. I couldn’t see you without thinking of that.”
    The emotion-filled pressure cooker in Jace’s throat grew tighter and tighter. His sinus cavity burned with restrained tears ready to pour free. He hated to cry.
    “I needed you.” His voice cracked. “I needed to know you cared no matter what.” Tears leaked free.
    Clint shifted his feet. Left. Right. Left. Right. “I cared. Too much about the wrong shit, but I cared. I care.”
    Needing to get himself reined back in, Jace headed to the bathroom for the prosthetic and to get dressed. He swiped at the tears when he was out of sight. “What brought you back?” He spoke loudly enough to be heard in the other room, but the place was small enough he didn’t have to raise his voice much.
    “I saw the stupidity of my actions.” An admission that would’ve cost Clint as much as Jace saying he’d needed his friend.
    Suddenly aware of a new sensation, Jace paused with his arm in hand and stared at his stump. It tingled like electrodes had been stuck all over and turned on high. The pain he’d grown accustomed to still lingered, always present on some level, yet the tingling seemed to drive it back a little.
    Were the therapists right? Was a lot of the pain emotion driven? Was it feeling different because Clint had returned? Whatever the cause, he wasn’t going to question it. He would question Clint, though.
    He positioned the prosthetic on its peg and twisted it on while he called out. “Specifically what stupidity? And how?”
    Pulling his shirt on, he walked back into the living area where Clint stood silently.
    “You wanna be my therapist, Jace?”
    “Hell no.” The two-armed Jace may have let it go, but the one-armed Jace who’d lived with the ghost of pain and the burn of rejection wanted the difficult answers. He deserved them. “But I’d like to know why after all this time without a word you march in here like it’s old times.”
    “I was made to see the error of my withdrawal.” He looked at Jace but didn’t meet his gaze.
    “By who?”
    “A woman.” Clint shifted on his feet, but his gaze held firm this time. “Let me buy you a drink and I’ll tell you about her. I heard there’s a great little bar in the area.” Clint wiggled his brows and smiled. “With a bartender who’s pretty easy on the eyes.”
    “Sam’s?”
    “Yeah. That’s it. Rumor has it it’s our kind of scene.”
    Only unlike his service days he no longer looked for the rowdy bars. If Clint had stayed the same he would be disappointed.
    Five minutes later, they walked into Sam’s. It was louder than normal with most of the racket coming from the back room. Since his favorite corner table was occupied Jace headed to the bar. He hated his back to the room, but the mirrors behind the bar would allow him to see most of the room and the front door. Sam set drinks on a waitress’s tray before heading their way with a smile.
    “Good evening, gentlemen.”
    “Sam.” Jace nodded toward the back room. “Sounds like a party.”
    “A reunion. Military men seem to like my bar all of a sudden.” She grabbed a mug