Page 6 of The Ampersand Effect
“I shattered my ulna in a chopper accident about three years ago. Had a plate and several screws during healing, but begged them to take it out once the bone fragments were set so I could keep as much of my range of motion as possible. It bothers me with overuse sometimes, especially with all the entering and exiting the box office—” She coughed, and Grier noticed a slight flush color her throat. “Cockpit. Today it’s flaring up. It’s really tight. And progressively painful.”
The captain’s embarrassment was palpable. What was that—box office?Was that a lesbian joke? Grier shoved that thought aside for the moment. She held out her hands, palms up, “May I touch you? Your arm, I mean?”
Shit.The Kool-Aid Man coloring was breaching the surface again. What the hell was happening? Why was she so flustered?
Captain Maes began to unbutton the cuff of her silver button-up shirt and roll the sleeve up, revealing a sleeve of ink that trailed from her wrist and disappeared under the remainderof the shirt above her elbow. Grier swallowed the lump in her throat and could actually feel her pupils dilate as she traced the line of tattoos with her eyes. A phoenix wrapped its fiery figure around the scar lining her lateral forearm.
Was this real? She had to be dreaming, right? Grier’s mind was rapidly spinning out of control. She risked a glance at the woman’s face and found her staring right back, unblinking.
Grier’s mouth dried. She recovered quickly—or at least she hoped she had. Time felt like it was standing still. She averted her eyes, focusing on the woman’s toned forearm, gently pressing her fingers and thumb into the muscles and feeling the texture of the scar tissue beneath the skin. Her muscles were incredibly taught, and she felt a mild warmth near the elbow, along with some swelling. She pressed her thumb into a muscle a couple inches below the elbow and heard the captain inhale sharply.
“I’m sorry! You have a nasty knot right here.” She allowed herself a quick peek at the captain and saw the woman’s jaw muscles clench, though her eyes remained soft as they watched Grier touch her.
“Here, take my other hand for a second.” Grier offered the captain her palm, and the captain gently took it. Grier’s stomach dropped at the contact of the other woman’s warm, soft hand in hers. Her hand tingled at the connection as she shifted her palm slightly under the captain’s, straightened their fingers against each other, moderately compressed the knot in her forearm with the thumb of her other hand, then slid her fingers between the captain’s and deviated their wrists side to side.
“Any pain with this?”
“Yes, but it also feels kind of good,” the captain said earnestly. “The pressure is uncomfortable, but I don’t want you to stop.” Grier noticed that she had closed her eyes, andher heart compressed slightly, realizing this woman’s pain was relenting under her careful touch.
“Good. Okay, I’m going to intensify things a bit. Are you ready?” The captain opened her eyes and met Grier’s gaze directly. Grier wondered if she was searching for answers on what to expect or looking for comfort. The thought thrilled her more than she could give words to.
“I feel like I should warn you,” Grier said quietly, instantly feeling the captain’s forearm muscles tense beneath her fingers as she waited for the rest of the warning. “I’m a hate-me-now, love-me- later kind of woman.” She held the captain’s green eyes, which had lowered just slightly to take in the quirk of Grier’s devious smirk.
The captain chuckled. “I appreciate your warning. I’ll take my chances.” She nodded at her arm, breaking their eye contact, then closed her eyes as she waited for Grier to proceed.
“Cool phoenix!” Delta whispered reverently, having sidled over to see what Grier was up to. “My Auntie loves phoenixes! Well, mostly she loves Captain Phoenix fromTop Gun: Maverick. She thinks pilots are hot.” Delta grinned mischievously and nudged Grier with her elbow with absolutely no subtlety.
This child,Grier thought, rolling her eyes inwardly as she closed them in an unsuccessful attempt to ground herself. “She’s hot, Auntie. Get her number. Or do you want me to?”
“Delta!”Fan-fucking-tastic. Any hope of salvaging her ego today just blew away with the words of an eleven-year-old.
“What? My game is better than yours. Who can resist this face?” Delta taunted her, grinning widely and batting her eyes as she looked up at Grier. The captain didn’t pull her arm away while Delta heckled her, leaving it rest in Grier’s hands and letting that tingling sensation linger in her fingertips.
Captain Maes chuckled again.Gods, it was airy and sexy, and hit Grier right in the heart—squeezing in a way that was both uncomfortable and enticing. What the hell wasthatsensation?
“I’m not sure if I’d call that game, but I appreciate the compliment—even from a kid. How old are you, anyway?”
“Eleven! And I usually get what I want. I mean… face!” Delta turned her smile and batting eyelashes toward the captain, circling her face with a finger.
“Apparently candidness runs in the family. Is that genetic, you think?” The captain smiled humorously at Delta, then briefly glanced at Grier with a look she couldn’t quite read.
“I’m working. Please go have a snack and wait with the other passengers.” Did she sound flustered? Gruff? What was going on with her voice?
“I’m good. And I already went to the bathroom, so you can forget that option, too. I’ll stay right here and watch.” She beamed—deviously.
“She’s okay. Really. I don’t mind,” the captain offered. “Comic relief is helping distract me from whatever torture you call this.”
Grier quickly searched the captain’s eyes for evidence of pain. “Am I really hurting you? Please tell me to stop if I am. It’s supposed to be uncomfortable, but not painful.” The gentle worry in her voice was real—she wanted to help, and she definitely did not want to remove her hand from the comfortable working position between the captain’s fingers.
“Dr. Savage, I was kidding. Please, continue. It feels good. Really.” And then she smiled at Grier.
Grier’s heart squeezed for the third time that morning.
Grier straightened her shoulders and spine, all five feet three inches of her frame, and steadied herself. “Right. Okay. Can you copy me?” She demonstrated the motion she wanted the captain to follow, and the captain mimicked her.
She worked in silence, sometimes closing her eyes and allowing her hands to guide the captain’s muscles, coaxing them to release under her touch. She could feel when the tension eased—her hands sensed the weight of the captain’s arm increase, and she heard her breathing slow, no longer trying to hold it in. Despite every cell in her body screaming their dissent, Grier gently relinquished the captain’s arm.
“Can you move it around a little? Tell me what you’re feeling?” she asked, watching as the captain clenched and unclenched her fingers, then rolled her wrist and the elbow, testing her muscles and gauging any pain.