No Man Left Behind: A Veteran Inspired Charity Anthology by Elizabeth Knox (black authors fiction TXT) 📕

mindset. She pushed me to my limit and beyond, if not for her, I don’t think . . . no, I know I wouldn’t be where I am today. If I wasn’t so fucked up, I would explore more of a relationship with her.

“So, what’s up?” I ask, curious about her intent. She looks nervous as shit. I watch her bite her lip, wanting to do it for her.

“I was wondering, if possible, if you could do me a favor?” she asks, not quite looking at me and shuffling her feet. That’s her tell. She was up to something.

“Sure,” I say slowly, waiting for her to spill it.

“So, I was wondering if you could watch Careful for me. I’m going out of town for the weekend and I don’t want to kennel him. He’s doing so well with his training and I think putting him in that place will set him back,” she explains. Careful is her K9s for Warriors dog. She’s been working with him for six months. Relief floods my body; I can do that. It’s just a dog.

“Oh, yeah, sure, I can take care of the pup,” I assure her.

“Great!” she says with just a little bit too much enthusiasm. I’m still getting the feeling that there’s a catch. “I can drop him off this afternoon with his stuff. I really appreciate it.”

“That’s fine. I need to head home and get ready for work. I’ll see you later,” I say as I clean up the equipment that I was using.

“Okay,” she says as she looks at her watch. “Oh, crap, yeah, I‘ve got to get going, too.” She hugs me. She’s always been a touchy feely type of woman. Because I’m hopelessly in love with her, I would do anything for her.

I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her close. Taking a deep breath, I take in her sweet scent of lavender. My dick twitches to life. Pulling away, she lays a kiss on my cheek and rushes out the door with a wave.

Regret hits me hard. I want her so damn bad, but who would want a broken, discarded soldier.

Chapter Two

Hope Smalls

My face is on fire as I rush out the gym door. The brisk cold air hits my face. I’m hoping it’ll cool it off. Oh . . . My . . . God . . .He’s so freaking hot. Got to stay professional. To be honest, he should have graduated out of physical therapy several months ago, but I’ve been making excuses to be able to see him. Why would a sexy, athletic man want anything to do with my curvy ass? I’m heavy topped and heavy bottomed, my waist is trim, not matching the rest of my body. I’m firm, there’s just a lot of me. I work out, but nothing shrinks, just tightens up. I love me, but I don’t think he would be interested, he could have anyone.

I can’t help smiling as I feel that I’ve done a good thing for him. I just hope that he’ll see that by the end of the weekend. I put the application in for Sam to get Careful as a service dog. This weekend isn’t really for me to go away but for him to have a home visit with the dog to see if they are a fit.

I’ve talked to Sam about taking on a service dog but he always finds a way to change the subject. When I see him with Careful, they always get along so well.

I smirked at the memory of Careful’s naming. When he came to me, he was only eight months old and was all legs and big paws. He would run around and slide into everything. Careful was shouted countless times as he grew through his rambunctious faze, and it stuck.

Climbing into my SUV, I steer toward home to change for work and let the dog out. Working as a homecare physical therapist helps with the training. I’m able to stop by home a few times a day to take care of him.

I hear Careful barking as I pull into the drive and open the door. I will miss the sweet boy but he has a job to do and that’s to take care of my Sam.

Trying to dodge icy patches on the walkway, I miss calculate and step on one hidden under a dusting of snow. My ankle twists with a sharp pain running up my leg. I yelp and go flying backwards. Landing on my side, I can feel the scrapes burn on my hands.

Groaning, I push myself up on my elbows and assess the damage. Lifting my ankle and giving it a little twirl. It’s got an achy soreness to it but I think it’ll be okay. My hands are a mess. Caked in dirt and blood, it mixes together forming a bloody mud. Grimacing at the muck. Sticking my hands in a snowdrift on the side, I rub my hands together to try to clean them. The cold freezes the sting that’s beginning to radiate through my hands.

Sliding out of the snow, I shake the excess off and climb to my feet on shaky legs. Limping I walk into the house to be met by the dog. He circles me and whines. Sniffing at my hands, he begins to lick them.

“No, Careful. I understand you want to help but I’d rather use soap and water,” I say gently. I steer him to the back door to the fenced in backyard. Opening the door, I watch him take off tearing through the yard. I smile indulgently before heading to the bathroom. I dig out the first aid kit and set it on the counter. Looking in the mirror, I see the horror that my accident has caused. My clothes are soaked where I’ve landed in a puddle. I turn on the shower and strip them off.

Stepping under the steaming water, I let the heat warm me. I didn’t