Broken Soldier: OMYW Instalove Romance

  Broken Soldier

  Older Man Younger Woman Instalove Romance

  By Haley Travis

  Copyright 2020 Haley Travis. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted or duplicated in any form whatsoever without express written permission of the author. This book is intended for sale to adults only. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual people or specific locations or details is completely coincidental, or intended fictitiously. All characters are over 18, no sex partners are related, all sex is consensual. This is fantasy. In the real world, everyone practices safe sex at all times. Right? Right.

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One ~ James

  Chapter Two ~ Molly

  Chapter Three ~ James

  Chapter Four ~ Molly

  Chapter Five ~ James

  Chapter Six ~ Molly

  Chapter Seven ~ James

  Chapter Eight ~ Molly

  Chapter Nine ~ James

  Chapter Ten ~ Molly

  Chapter Eleven ~ James

  Chapter Twelve ~ Molly

  Chapter Thirteen ~ James

  Chapter Fourteen ~ Molly

  Chapter Fifteen ~ James

  Chapter Sixteen ~ Molly

  Epilogue One ~ James

  Epilogue Two ~ Molly

  Other Stories and About the Author

  Memorial Hospital Physical Therapy Patient Chart

  Date: Friday, September 25, 2020

  Time: 10:15 am

  Physical Therapist: Molly Stevenson

  Patient: James E. Little

  DETAILS:

  – 39 years old

  – Good general health, former military

  INJURIES:

  – Minor right shoulder stiffness due to sprain and torn ligaments. Healing progressing steadily.

  – Dislocated left knee, left femur fracture slightly above knee, surgery included metal implants. Healing progressing slowly, as expected.

  – Injuries occurred from fall from at least 20-25 feet mid-June of this year, in the line of duty.

  GOALS:

  – Work on flexibility, range of motion, monitor healing from surgery.

  – Encourage use of cane whenever possible to shift body weight off left leg.

  CLINIC NOTES:

  – Do not discuss details of his injury more than necessary.

  – No personal questions. Don’t mention the military.

  – He worked through rougher, painful therapy in the hospital just fine, but hates the easier stuff.

  – Just gently encourage him to do the exercises, and give him homework stretches, even though he likely won’t do them.

  – Try not to take his lousy attitude personally, he’s been like this from the start.

  CHAPTER ONE

  * James *

  Driving my old pickup truck around to the back of the sandy brick medical building, I didn’t want to park. If I just kept driving, I told myself, I could go home and watch a movie, or get some work done, instead of putting myself through this ridiculous torture yet again.

  Opening the door, I swung my legs completely around, so that I could put my right foot onto the ground first. I reached behind my seat for the silver-tipped cane. It was starting to feel too comfortable in my hand. Damn.

  I locked the truck and slowly stepped forward, cursing my stupid limp. Walking in the back door of the facility was a sick reminder that I used to have to duck my head on some door frames. Now, since I hunched a bit, it wasn’t as much of an issue.

  Feeling like a dork in baggy shorts and a thin t-shirt, I slouched in. I felt grossly under-dressed, but it was better than having to change into a gown for them to poke and prod me. My usual therapist, Bruce, likely preferred me with more clothing on as well.

  Looking around the huge rehabilitation room, I saw the usual assortment of people being encouraged to do exercises by their physical therapists and coaches. Slumping on a seat in the waiting area, I honestly didn’t know why I was here.

  The first round of physical therapy in the hospital had been brutal. But it was something I could relate to. Like basic training and bodybuilding, I knew how to work hard and blast through blocks.

  This fussy business of healing joints and ligaments while not stressing the metal pins in my leg was nothing but annoying. There was no adrenaline. Nobody to yell at me, or with me.

  This entire beige place just made me feel weak. Useless. The whole situation was just humiliating.

  A few days ago, in a moment of weakness, I had looked up a few psychology articles on how to pull yourself out of a funk. Once again, there was nothing that required strength or aggression. Nothing I could relate to. It was all about gratitude and living in the moment.

  Then there was something about focusing on the joy of others if you had no joy of your own.

  Blowing out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, I looked around the room. Little Mrs. Fitzsimmons was now able to walk the full length of the room on her new hip, to the delight and applause of her physical therapist. Several people in that corner of the room were applauding, and I felt myself crack a smile despite my dark mood.

  Staring at my feet, I didn’t want the applause of others. There were no big milestones ahead for me anymore. I could walk slowly, and use both shoulders well enough to work on the computer. That was all anyone cared about, so this crap about increasing mobility and circulation was just an annoyance now.

  Standing up, I realized I could call Bruce and cancel from the truck as I was leaving. I didn’t really like his attitude anyway.

  “Mr. Little?” I spun toward the gentle voice. “Hi, I’m Molly.”

  The petite brunette angel extending her hand was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen in this entire world. More delicate than a sunrise, dreamier than a sunset.

  Holding her hand gently in mine, I nodded. “James.”

  She wore a soft blue dress that fell just past her knees, with a white medical jacket unbuttoned over it. Knowing her curves were hidden made me even more curious. She seemed young for a physical therapist.

  To my surprise, she leaned closer, stretching up to whisper in my ear. “I’m sorry, but I’m really going to need your help today.”

  As her bright blue eyes searched mine, I didn’t care if she wanted my bank account info or the keys to my truck. I would give this sweet girl absolutely anything she asked for.

  CHAPTER TWO

  * Molly *

  My nerves had been on edge all morning, but when I scanned my appointment sheet and saw that I had been assigned to work with a man today, I felt my hands begin to shake.

  I’d only been hired at this clinic a week ago, so everything was new and awkward. At my old clinic, they understood that I was a bit nervous around strange men.

  This job involved a lot of touching. I really enjoyed touching people, and trying to heal them, but it was different with men. I was comfortable working with boys, and some of the elderly men, if the muscle work wasn’t too intimate. My previous manager had been fine with that, and he seemed to understand how nervous I was.

  But Linda, my manager at this new clinic, wouldn’t listen to my pleas to have only female patients.

  Swallowing my pride, I went over to Allie, the receptionist. I casually checked the soil of the plant on her desk, making a note to water it later. When she finished the call and turned to me, I asked, “Listen, is there any way I could change patients for the
ten-fifteen slot?”

  She casually tossed her glossy braids over her shoulder as she looked around to make sure Linda wasn’t within earshot.

  “I wouldn’t switch if I were you,” she said quietly. “You didn’t hear this from me, but she’s in a really bad mood today. I think she’s sick of the overflow from your old clinic that closed, and she’s stressed out.”

  “Well, that’s not my fault,” I muttered.

  “Of course it’s not, but you’re the new girl, and you would be the first to go,” she said, looking worried. “I’m sorry, Molly, but you’re going to have to kick ass today to keep on her good side.”

  “Have you seen this James Little guy before?” I asked.

  “Oh, honey,” she said, fanning herself dramatically. “He’s a looker, but he’s also a handful.”

  I pointedly ignored the first part. “What do you mean, a handful?”

  “He thinks that this kind of physical therapy is a waste of time, and he rarely makes it through the entire round of exercises. Honestly, if you could get him to do his complete cycle today, that would really impress Linda.”

  I gazed up at the ceiling, trying to collect myself.

  Allie was obviously trying not to laugh. “I know you’re a shy little thing, but you’ve got this. I’ll make a point of cruising by the door every few minutes, so that I can report back to her how amazing you were with him,” she smiled encouragingly. “That guy has had people push him and bully him into doing the work. Maybe a pretty girl will soften him up and make him behave.”

  I looked at the clock and realized there was no time to get out of it. I really did enjoy my work, I was just a bit uncomfortable around men.

  “Okay. I can do this.” I wasn’t sure whether I was speaking to Allie or myself.

  “Yes, you can,” she laughed, then turned to answer the phone.

  Picking up the patient information sheet, I skimmed his injury. Dislocated left knee, left femur fracture with pins – good grief, I felt bad for him. Relearning how to walk on this injury must have been unbelievably painful.

  I was great with shoulder work, but touching a man’s leg above the knee seemed like it was encroaching on his personal space, so to speak.

  Maybe it was strange that I’d made it through three years of medical education without touching a man remotely intimately, but I’d been lucky so far.

  I’d have to keep my nervousness to myself. This poor man had been through a lot, and all he had to do was keep up the easiest part of the physical therapy. I couldn’t help wondering what his problem was that he hated the easy stuff so much.

  As I walked into the main room, I looked around to find anyone who matched the description on the forms. There was only one man in his late thirties holding a cane, standing up and looking around.

  He was huge. Tall, with thick, broad shoulders and sharp features that belonged on a model. There was no way on earth that I could approach a man who was that gorgeous. Except that I had to. As I came closer, I noticed a tiny scar on his forehead that somehow made him look even sexier.

  “Mr. Little?” I approached him slowly, trying to appear calm. “Hi, I’m Molly.”

  As I held out my hand politely, I couldn’t understand the way he was staring at me so intensely. “James.” His voice was deep and slightly raspy, which I found unusually sexy.

  I saw Linda walking from the back room to the front, giving me a pointed glare. She definitely did look irritated, and I really had to impress her immediately.

  Leaning closer to James, I said in a low voice, “I’m sorry, but I’m really going to need your help today.”

  He looked absolutely surprised, Then a slow, warm smile spread across his handsome face. “Anything you like, Molly. How can I help?”

  I led him to the far corner of the room where there was a bit more privacy. We settled on the mat, and I guided him through the first round of warm-up stretches.

  It was a bit awkward to be basically sitting between his legs as they were spread out in a wide V so that he could lean forward and to each side so that I could check his range of motion. He seemed to be used to it, or at least, didn’t seem to mind.

  I guess if a man was being poked and prodded by a therapist, he would probably prefer that it was me rather than Douglas or Bruce.

  As soon as there were no staff members nearby, I said, “I think I’m on thin ice with my new boss, and she’s having a really bad day. There’s a note in your file that you don’t like to complete the full round of exercises, but if you could possibly find it in your heart to do every single thing for me today, it would make me look like a star. I’d really appreciate it.”

  He nodded, and I reached out my hands to him to help him stretch forward an extra inch.

  I knew that I shouldn’t have felt a tingle from holding his hands, and I shouldn’t have been looking straight into his eyes the way I was. A low, simmering heat was passing like a current just under my skin.

  It didn’t make any sense that I could be attracted to a man I didn’t even know. And a patient, no less. But the urge to throw myself into his arms was indescribable.

  I’d always craved the touch of others. Maybe it was because my family rarely hugged, or that I’ve always expressed things more physically than mentally. Just the touch of his hands when he was looking at me this way was sending a sparkle like dozens of fireflies through my stomach.

  I helped him pull gently to the right, then very carefully to his injured left leg. Suddenly he smiled broadly. “Wow, you’re a lot better at this than last week’s guy,” he chuckled. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Linda pass close by and disappear into the office.

  “Thanks,” I whispered.

  “No problem.”

  “Did you have any trouble with this week’s homework exercises?” I asked.

  He gave an exasperated sigh. “I ran through them once, sure.”

  Releasing his hands, I put mine on my hips a bit too high as I tried to glare at him through a smirk. “Mr. Little, you know that you have to do your exercises every single day if you want to heal as much as possible.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  I could tell that he wasn’t being grumpy at me, he just seemed to dislike this entire process.

  “If you like, I could give you stretches that are more ballet-style. Would that help? Do you have a mirror and a barre at home? Wearing the pink tutu is not optional. ”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” he chuckled.

  “Unless you want that in your file, you will do every single exercise this week that I assign to you,” I said.

  I knew that I didn’t sound stern at all, with my quiet, girlish voice. But at least he seemed amused. “Yes, ma’am,” he said curtly.

  Maybe the other physical therapists tried to push him, and he was sick of being pushed around. Maybe a little sass and a good laugh were all he needed to lighten up.

  James and I worked through his stretches slowly, and he seemed to relax a bit.

  Once we were against the wall doing leg lifts, I had to ask. “Your file said that you worked through the roughest part of your therapy in record time. Why do you hate the gentle stuff so much?”

  His expression was unreadable. “If I made a crack about hating these weird dance moves, would you drop it?”

  “Likely not.”

  “What could I say that would make you drop it?”

  Scratching my head, I pretended to ponder for a moment. “Perhaps if you did your entire session today, then did all of your homework this week…maybe I could be distracted?”

  A soft growl rattled through his throat. He was obviously teasing and pretending to be gruff, and it was sexy as hell. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I really liked how easily he made me smile and laugh without even trying. After half an hour of seemingly easy but focused stretches, it was time for me to massage the affected areas and check his mobility.

  Although I’d done this hundreds of times with women and children, it was different wit
h a sexy hulk of a man.

  He didn’t seem to notice my nervousness as he followed me into a smaller room and onto a table. Taking a deep breath, I tried to tell myself that he was completely accustomed to this, and all I had to do was my job. There was no reason to think beyond that.

  Standing behind his head, I slid my hands under his shoulder, trying not to let a shiver run through me as I began to work the muscle through his t-shirt.

  After loosening up the area, I did the standard stretches to make sure he was improving his flexibility a bit every week. Making notes on his chart, it seemed that he was definitely reaching a bit further than last week.

  “So, you’ve been doing the arm exercises?” I asked.

  “A little.” His eyes flicked up to mine upside down from where he was lying under me.

  “Well, your flexibility has improved a pinch. So maybe next week, once you’ve done all of the exercises completely, it will stretch a bit more,” I grinned.