After rinsing off, I’m not ready to get out, and I spend an unknown amount of time letting the water flow over my body. Then I remember Cohen’s words. You need to get laid.

Sighing, I realize that it’s been over four months since I’ve been with a woman. I know that doesn’t seem like a long time, but in my world, it kind of is. I don’t date, and I haven’t since Megan took a scalpel to my chest and cut my heart out. So I fuck. And that’s it. No cuddling, no pillow talk, no candlelit dinners. The women know it, and I make sure to never let them get mixed up with feelings and shit. The last girl in my bed was more than happy to give a soldier a rousing American farewell, and I’m pretty sure she damn well saw fireworks that night. For me, it was another means of getting off without any emotional attachment.

Don’t get me wrong—it was good. But the more I think about it, the more tired I am of random lays. That doesn’t mean I’m going to start a profile on Match.com with visions of romantic picnics in the park in my future. I don’t fucking know what I want, but it’s not this anymore.

Shaking the thought out of my mind and knowing I’m not going to be able to jack off, I turn the water off and carefully get out of the shower, toweling off my upper half.

For the first time in what seems like weeks, I look at my reflection in the mirror. Grimacing, I study the yellow bruising that mars the right side of my face. Normally hating facial hair, I’m disgusted by the beard that’s grown in the weeks since I left the hospital. Immediately I find my razor and shaving cream, desperate for smooth skin again.

Moments later, I’m relieved as I spread moisturizer over my face. Grabbing my electric razor, I make quick work to buzz my hair, not wanting to deal with it grown out. Eventually, I’m satisfied with the guy looking back at me. Short hair and clean shaven. My eyes are dark, even though I feel like I’ve done nothing but sleep for the past three weeks. Due to the lack of appetite I’ve had from the pain medication, my normally strong jawline seems sunken in. I make a quick vow to wean myself off the pills and to get back into my protein shakes.

Taking one last look in the mirror, I head towards my bedroom, where I’m going to try to get dressed by myself. Standing in front of my dresser, I realize that there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to get my boxer briefs on without assistance. I’ve been going commando, which I normally hate to do, but it’s just easier wearing nothing but basketball shorts that I can easily slide down when I have to piss. Now that I need to put jeans on, I’d rather not catch my dick in the zipper.

“Cohen, get your ass back here!” I yell down the hall, cupping my junk so he doesn’t get an eyeful. Yeah, he’s my brother, but still.

When he saunters into my bedroom and sees me in my state of undress, he begins laughing at me. Scowling, I gesture to my boxers as I sit down on the bed, careful not to move my back.

“Dude, I know this is weird, but can you please just put them on my feet and slide them up enough so I can stand and pull them up the rest of the way without hurting my back?” I ask, still covering myself.

“Knox, we’re both grown adults. We have junk. I’m pretty sure I saw it plenty of times when Mom put us in the bath together when we were kids. What’s wrong? You afraid your little brother’s going to find out he has a bigger dick than you?” Cohen asks, cracking up at the thought.

I glare at him, and he grabs the fresh boxers, putting them on me and pulling them up to mid-thigh. He stands there staring at me, waiting for me to finish.

“Umm, a little privacy, Coh?” I ask, again feeling angry that I need this assistance.

He turns around, but not before saying, “You’re going to need help getting pants on, so chill out. I promise not to peek until you’re fully covered, but come on, man. I know all the guys in your unit have probably seen the goods, so I don’t get your modesty.”

He’s right, but in my weakened state, I don’t want anyone to see a single part of me. I lift my hips and bring my fabric over my ass to cover myself fully. Moments later, I’m dressed in dark-toned jeans, a fitted navy blue t-shirt, and a solid black ball cap that helps shadow the bruising on my face. I slip on flip-flops, not wanting to further have Cohen dress me by tying my shoes.

Looking in the mirror, I’m satisfied with my appearance and more than happy not to see the damn brace on my back. Yeah, I should have it on, but I’m not going to a damn bar wearing that thing. One night without it might actually improve my mood. I spray one spritz of my favorite cologne, Dolce & Gabanna’s Light Blue, before heading down the hallway.

I find Cohen and Jace sitting in the living room watching the Braves game. This must be the week that Lexi’s not visiting, because usually they’re glued to each other, kissing and hugging and doing all that annoying shit couples ‘in love’ do.

“Damn, dude, I wasn’t sure that pretty mug still existed under all that facial hair and the angry scowls,” Jace jokes, earning a glare.

“Oh yeah? Well, I barely recognize you without the one-hundred-pound blonde appendage you’ve seemed to acquire since we got back to the States,” I shoot back at him, feeling like an asshole the moment the words leave my mouth.

In true Jace form, he just laughs it off. I’m still skeptical about this chick, but I have to admit I’ve never seen him so happy. He shrugs off my response, calling me a jaded ass in the process.

I know he’s right, but I’ve had eleven years to harden my heart, so one love story isn’t going to soften it. I hope for Jace that she’s in it for the long haul, because I don’t think I can see him heartbroken over her again. The past few weeks she’s been visiting me with him, and when I look at her, I swear I can see a girl in love, but I saw that in Megan, too. I have to admit that there’s something different about Lexi, but I’m still reserving judgment.

Cohen helps Jace off the couch and hands him his crutches. We make our way out to the car, where my brother helps me get into the back seat, as the doctor advised us to keep me away from airbags. Within moments we’re on our way to the bar, the first time I’ve been out in weeks. I’m not looking forward to going out, but I’m craving a cold draft, so I’ll deal with Cohen’s hooking up if that’s what it takes to get one. Glancing out the window, I let the radio drown out any thoughts I have, wondering what the night will bring.

Charlie

APPARENTLY DANCING turned into ‘watch the Braves game with Lucy, Jenna, and Jenna’s boyfriend Brad.’ I’m actually okay with this turn of events since I don’t feel like bumping and grinding with strangers tonight. Absentmindedly, I’m sitting at the bar, twirling the straw in my Bloody Mary, watching the game on the television. To be honest, I couldn’t care less about baseball. I’m a football girl through and through, with Dad raising me as a Bama fan. The off-season is the worst time of the year, and I get bored watching baseball. Jenna and Brad are enthralled with the game, and Lucy’s off at a pool table watching a couple of cute guys play.

I wonder what the hell I’m doing here when the bar door opens and three sexy-as-sin men fill the entrance. Two of the guys are laughing as one leads the other on crutches to an open table right near the bar. They’re both attractive, the taller of the two with dark black hair cut short and just enough facial hair to look like he’s been ignoring his razor for a few days. His smile is killer, reaching all the way to his eyes as he laughs at something the shorter, cute blond guy says as he gestures to the other guy in the trio.

When he comes into view, the sight of him stops my breath. He’s gorgeous in a rugged, I-just-got-done-chopping-wood kind of way. His tall stature probably puts him at six foot two at least, and the way the tight t-shirt hugs a muscular frame has my mouth watering. I haven’t been this attracted to guy in…well, ever. It took Drew three times to ask me out before I finally said yes, but right now I’d take all my clothes off and dance on the bar if this guy wanted me to.