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“You can’t sit still for shit,” Oscar noted.

Troy chuckled. “I’ve got a lot of nervous energy.”

“Tell me about it,” Oscar grunted.

Troy glanced at him as he rounded a corner smoothly. “How’s the hip?”

“Hurts like it normally does.”

“Oscar—”

He grimaced. “Fine, it’s a good day today. Sometimes it hurts like a motherfucker, and I can barely get out of bed, and other days it’s just annoying. Today is just an annoying day.”

“Can I ask about the arm?”

“You can, but there’s really not much to say about something that isn’t there.”

Troy chuckled, shaking his head. “The left looks good, though. I can see you’ve been taking care of it.”

“It’s the only one I’ve got left. Just because I’m half of who I was doesn’t mean I can let the rest of it go,” Oscar said, turning his eyes toward the window beside him.

What the hell was it about Troy that made Oscar forget to keep his mouth shut? There was no need to burden anyone with his problems, especially when there was nothing anyone could do. The military had put him through the normal battery of psychological tests and therapy, and while he’d been cleared, it had been done grudgingly.

“You still look good to me,” Troy said after a long pause.

Oscar snapped his head around to glare. “Really, Troy? C’mon.”

Troy waited until he came to a complete stop before leveling his gaze with Oscar’s and holding it. “Yeah, really.”

Oscar’s stomach fluttered at the warm expression on his face. “Don’t placate me, Troy. I know what I am.”

Troy just shook his head. “When have you ever known me to placate you about anything? I’ll save you the trouble of answering because the answer is never.”

Oscar shook his head. “You never know how to let me get the last word.”

Troy gestured to the apartment building. “I’ll let you out of the car without harassment, but I will add one tidbit. If you think for one moment that you getting hurt, having a bad hip, and one arm makes you any less of a man, especially in my eyes, you better get your head on straight, and fast. There’s nothing about you I don’t want, Oscar, so yeah, have a good night.”

Oscar wasn’t sure what to say, but his heart pounded as he slid out of the car. It’s not like people didn’t still look at him with interest, and sometimes even expressed it. Those same people couldn’t keep their eyes off his missing arm when they noticed,or like the man earlier tonight, couldn’t help but bring it up in conversation. For Troy, it seemed to be nothing more than something to check on now and again while still keeping his eyes resolutely on Oscar.

Making his way up the stairs, Oscar let himself into his apartment and closed the door with a relieved sigh. Yet even though he was relieved to be away from the confusion of his mind in Troy’s presence, he had to resist the urge to go back downstairs and hop into Troy’s car again.

“Fuck,” Oscar muttered, rubbing his forehead.

Troy had been right about one thing, he definitely needed to figure out where his head was at.

Oscar feltlike he’d just gotten to sleep when he was jarred awake by his phone ringing. Groaning, he rolled onto his side, swiping at the bedside table to try and find the noisy thing. Squinting at the display, he huffed as he saw the time and his brother’s name on the screen.

“What the fuck, Gabe? It’s seven in the morning,” Oscar growled into the receiver.

Gabriel chuckled. “Since when has that ever stopped you from getting up at five? You always did when you were here.”

“Because I had nothing better to do at night than sleep. Fuck, it’s my day off,” Oscar complained as he flopped back onto his bed.

“And now you get to spend the morning talking to your big brother, aren’t you lucky?”

“I don’t know if I’d call that good luck.”

“You want me to let you go? You can call me back later.”