Page 30 of Faron (The Golden Team #8)

Blue

I t had been a week since Cyclone and River arrived, and my clinic hadn’t been the same since.

In the best way.

One or two members of their team showed up every day like clockwork — bringing food, fixing broken fixtures, offering extra hands.

Even Kat, River’s wife, joined the chaos, her military medic instincts sharper than steel.

I thought the blood might get to her. It didn’t.

She kissed crying babies, cracked jokes with teens covered in stitches, and brought enough sweets to bribe a whole army of scared kids into smiling.

And Faron — he was everywhere.

At my side in every emergency, running supply runs, replacing the back door that got shot out two days ago.

And then he walked up holding a crisp envelope like he was handing me the stars.

“What’s this?” I asked, already suspicious.

“A deed,” he said.

My heart stuttered.

“For the rec center building?” I asked.

“Yep. Official. Signed, sealed, delivered. I paid a whole dollar.”

I stared at him. “You bought it?”

He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “The city’s on board. They’re covering a lot of the renovations.”

My eyes burned.

I didn’t even know he was doing this.

Before I could say a word, the front door opened, and in walked a woman with golden skin, a ballerina’s posture, and a sunshine-wrapped voice.

“Oh, Faron, there you are!” she said. “Can you show me the building? I’ve got a contractor meeting me there in an hour.”

Faron gestured to me. “Blue, this is Oliver’s wife — Emery.”

I wiped my hands on my scrubs and smiled through the exhaustion. “It’s an honor. I’d shake your hand, but, well…” I held up blood-smeared fingers.

Emery laughed gently. “No worries. Did Faron mention we’re adding a pool?”

“A… pool?”

“For swimming lessons. Kids. Adults. Free for everyone.”

I blinked. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” she said. “We already have donors lined up.”

Everything was moving so fast.

I hadn’t even caught my breath, and suddenly the future was being painted in strokes I didn’t recognize.

I pulled Faron aside. “I wanted to be part of this.”

“You are part of this,” he said softly. “Name it, Blue. The place. Give it a name.”

I stared down the hall at a little girl showing Kat the princess Band-Aid on her elbow. My heart ached.

“Yes. I want to call it Julia’s Place.”

He went still. “Who’s Julia?”

“She was a girl who used to walk the block, telling kids not to sell drugs for the cartel. Not to get high. She meant well, always did. They found her a year ago… in the canal. She was only fifteen.”

He put a hand on my back. “Then Julia’s Place it is.”

And for the first time in a long, long time — I let myself believe something good might grow here after all.