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Which begged the question: Merrick was a Master ofwhatexactly?

“I’m trying, Callie. Some boo-boos are harder to make better than others. Do you know what might cheer her up?”

The woman—the grown, mature, adult woman—bounced on her tiptoes like a child. She was even speaking like one, which was baffling. Did she have learning difficulties or she like this through choice? She didn’t act like a woman bound to her husband through fear and force.

“How about…” With dramatic flourish, Callie brought her hand in front of her, clutching a stuffed bird. “…this?”

Tamsyn’s eyes focused on the thick, round owl with a pair of glasses perched on its beak. The wings were short, stumpy, and covered in fluffy brown fur with white laced through them, much like the rest of it.

“Sierra said she can make any accessories your... friend wants. He was one of the last ones she was working on before she went back to Phoenix, so he’s clean and all fixed up. She just didn’t have time to dress him for adoption.” Callie beamed at Merrick. “Daddy Vander said you called herlittle owl, so I thought this was perfect. Did I do good?”

Merrick reached out and took the stuffed toy carefully. “Thanks, sweetheart. You did very good. A little owl for my little owl—I think this was meant to be.” He offered it to Tamsyn with a smile. “Think you can cuddle him while we get those pesky tasks done?”

She wanted that bird. Oh yes, she did.

Gnawing on her bottom lip, she slid her gaze to Merrick’s face. Open, honest, relaxed, with his eyes reflecting those same qualities. If he was eager to start poking holes in her flesh, he didn’t show it.

She sagged and tried to scoop the stuffie under her broken arm. It felt stiff and sore, unwilling to bend, even with the cold cloth easing the worst of the pain. God, she hoped that didn’t mean it was going to throb all night.

Merrick grunted softly and leaned over her, tucking the owl under her uninjured arm. He winked at her, then turned to his friends. “Thank you for such a lovely gift, Callie. You and Sierra picked the perfect stuffie. Two little owls together.”

“You really should call her by her name,” Callie admonished him quietly.

“I will one day,” he promised. “When she feels safe enough to use her voice again. But right now, we have some ouchies to fix.” He looked at Elias. “Appreciate you taking the time, Eli. I’ll catch up with you later?”

“Yes, of course. Let me know when you and your charge are settled in properly. A pleasure to meet you, little one,” he said to Tamsyn, then offered his hand to his wife. “Come on, trouble; let’s go see if you can annoy Evander for an hour.”

“Only an hour?” Pouting, Callie gave Tamsyn a friendly wave, then followed Elias out of the room. “Come find me when you’re allowed to play!”

“She is the world’s smallest living tornado,” Merrick said fondly, watching his friends leave. “All energy, all the time. She’d be a good friend if you want one.”

As with all things in her life, it was never what she wanted that mattered, but what she was allowed. Bringing the stuffie up to her cheek, she rubbed her face against the super soft fur, breathing in the scent of lemons.

She closed her eyes, savoring the brush of the fur over her skin as she heard Linnie come in and start bickering with Merrick. The rustle of disposable packaging made bile rise into her throat; she was aware the next couple minutes were her last moments of freedom. Once the needle was in, she was tied to a bag full of fluids until Linnie decided otherwise.

When everything went quiet, dread filtered into her.

Opening her eyes, she found both Merrick and Linnie waiting patiently—or not so patiently in Linnie’s case as she huffed and checked her watch. There was a tray of medical equipment on the bedside table, and a tall stand with the bag already hooked up within arm’s reach of the bed.

“Ready, little owl?”

Not nearly, but she gave him a little nod just to get the ball rolling and put an end to the queasiness. Maybe her stomach would stop flip-flopping once Linnie was done.

Merrick watched the doctor reinsert the IV, his attention fully engrossed on how to apply the tourniquet and plump the vein, yet his hand was on Tamsyn’s knee in a silent show of support.

A silent whimper rattled in her throat when the canula bit into her skin, followed a few moments later by a cool rush of liquid surging through her veins.

She hated not knowing what they were pumping into her.

The next step was assessing her wrist. After some painful manipulation, Linnie pronounced it still too swollen to cast, and added some extra juice to the IV. Anti-inflammatories and the pain meds that really weren’t necessary.

But when Linnie asked her to spread her legs, Tamsyn refused. Point blank, no negotiation. She didn’t want a stranger touching her, pushing things into her—she could pee just fine on her own, thank you.

“Just leave the stuff, Linnie. I’ll talk to her. If she decides she’d rather have it for a few days until she can walk under her own steam, I’ll put it in.” Merrick shrugged as the doctor skewered him with heated eyes.

“Merrick, it’s completely unorthodox for you to put in a catheter under these circumstances, particularly without a doctor’s supervision. Aside from the fact you have no idea of her history, she’s unable to give you verbal consent.”

“Leave consent to me. Thanks for your help.”