Free Jericho (A Redemption Novel) by Ginger Jamison Page B

still cold?” She lightly ran her fingers over his socked feet. He wore the socks she’d given him. Another thing that pleased her more than it should. She’d made sure the hospital had provided him with more socks, but he never wore them. He had hers laundered so often she was afraid they were going to fall apart.
    She absently stroked up the soles again, eliciting a little moan from Christian. She barely heard it. She had set some of the money her sister gave her aside just for herself. But there was nothing she wanted. Maybe she would get Christian another pair of socks. Or some pajamas. Something that would bring him a little comfort.
    Unlike all the other soldiers, no family ever came to visit. He had no love to get him through this. No support. If she could provide a little to him, it would help her sleep better.
    “I can get you another blanket or bring you a cup of coffee. It won’t even be hospital coffee. We got one of those fancy machines in the break room. You strike me as a man who would enjoy a good strong cup of light and sweet French vanilla roast.”
    The corners of his mouth curled into a slight smile. “I don’t drink coffee.”
    “Hot chocolate, then? I could scrounge up some of those little marshmallows for you.”
    “I’m not cold, Georgia.”
    She re-covered his feet and went to his side to check on his wounds. “You’re healing nicely. Are you in pain? Is that what’s bothering you? You know I could get you something for it. Why didn’t you call me?”
    “I’m fine.”
    “Oh?” She knew he wasn’t. She could tell by how stiff he held himself tonight. To the world he might appear emotionless, but she could see he was upset about something. Maybe it was the mother in her, but she wanted to make it better. “I bought you another present. I know you haven’t been able to see yourself yet. So I went and spent a whole ninety-nine cents of my own money and got you this here hand mirror.” She slipped the small folding mirror out of her pocket and handed it to him. “I’m sorry it’s pink, but they didn’t have any in camouflage.”
    He seemed hesitant to take it, and she understood why. This was a big moment for him. He hadn’t seen his new face yet. She couldn’t imagine how hard it must be to know you were never again going to be who you once were.
    “Do you want to do this alone?”
    He shook his head and took it from her. He just held it for a minute, his eyes closed as if he was bracing himself.
    “Go on, honey.”
    He lifted the mirror and stared, his expression never changing. How could he do that? How could it be possible for him to give no sign of what he was thinking? She held her breath and watched him, waiting for some sign of emotion.
    “My hair is long,” he said, frowning.
    She exhaled. How typical of a marine to be worried over the length of his hair.
    “I kind of like it like this.”
    She ran her fingers through his thick, dark golden curls. It was softer than she expected. She studied the locks, noting how each individual strand was a different color. His hair was beautiful. It felt good beneath her fingers.
    “You don’t know how many women would kill for hair like this. They pay hundreds of dollars just to try to get this color.”
    “I guess I should keep it like this, then,” he said, grimacing. “It seems I don’t have much of an ear anymore—maybe this will cover it.”
    She touched the ear he was referring to, tracing what was left of the shell. It wouldn’t be noticeable at all beneath his hair. In fact, none of his burns were that noticeable to her. “It’s not so bad.” She stared at him as he stared at himself. “What do you think?”
    “It’s terrible, but I guess I was imagining worse. You know that scene from that Indiana Jones movie, Raiders of the Lost Ark, where the guy’s face melts off?”
    “No. I’ve never seen that movie, honey, but tell me anyway.” She stroked the backs her fingers down his cheek. The skin was