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Hugo

T ristan winced as he put his arm through the jacket sleeve. Hugo cleared his throat.

“I never said thank you.”

Tristan sent him a withering look. “That’s because you don’t need to.”

“I know.” He did know. He trusted Tristan with his life. “But I still want to say it.”

“Come on. Val’s waiting for us downstairs to remove the stitches.” Ry could have done it as well, but he and Lorenz were both out on a Wilderness and Remote Area Medicine advanced training.

“Shit. I’m not looking forward to that.”

“You’re scared of a bit of pain?” Hugo laughed.

“Pain doesn’t bother me,” Tristan said. “But I don’t like blood.” Hugo thought back to how quickly Tristan had wrapped his arm, back on the bridge. Maybe it had been less about staunching the bleeding, and more about getting the blood out of sight. “We might as well get it over with.”

They stepped into the small meeting room, where Val had already set up her materials on a sterile surface. “Hugo. Tristan. This won’t take a minute.”

“Thanks so much for doing this, Val.”

“You’re welcome. I was picking Beau up anyway, and this way you don’t have to go back to the hospital. Let’s start with your cheek.” Hugo sat down where Val pointed. “This is looking great. It might not even scar.”

Hugo made a noncommittal noise. Scars didn’t bother him, but she sounded proud of her own work, so he wasn’t about to take that from her. A few pulls and tugs later, Val pronounced it done. “Perfect. Now you, Tristan.”

Tristan sat in the seat Hugo had just vacated. He immediately looked out the window, as if he had discovered something of great interest there. If Val noticed, she didn’t say anything. “This is healing well. You might feel a mild pinch as I remove the stitches.”

Moments later, it was done. They thanked Val again, then left with some recommendations to take care of the affected skin.

“I guess sparring is out for a few days,” Tristan said, flexing his arm.

Hugo nodded. “After the effort she just went through, Val would kill us if we reopen the wound.”

Tristan smiled. “I have plans, anyway. I’m going to Bar d’Up.”

Hugo snorted in surprise. “Bar d’Up? You?” Tristan’s bars of choice were usually much more upscale.

Tristan nodded. “Yeah. Not usually my place of choice, but I met a girl in the grocery store yesterday. We both went to grab the last can of tuna in olive oil at the same time.”

“Which one of you got to keep it?”

“She did, of course. What kind of gentleman would I be, otherwise?”

“So instead of tuna, you left the store with her phone number?” That sounded more like the Tristan he knew. “I assume the girl was cute?”

Tristan’s blue eyes lit up with amusement. “Cute doesn’t even begin to cover it. She’s beautiful, Hugo. And funny. The kind of woman who doesn’t even realize how magnetic she is.”

Hugo arched a brow, crossing his arms. “And she hangs out at Bar d’Up?”

Tristan shrugged, his grin widening. “Apparently, her friend’s a bartender there. Said she’d be stopping by tonight and invited me to join.”

Hugo shook his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “You sure this isn’t a setup for her friend to size you up? Seems like a classic move.”

“Maybe,” Tristan admitted, unbothered. “But if that’s the price of a chance to see her again, I’m happy to pay it. Besides, it’s not like I can’t handle myself in that dive. You sure you and Jo don’t want to join?”

Hugo shook his head. “Not tonight. Jo and I were planning on staying in. She needs some downtime after everything that’s happened, and I need to start packing.”

“Packing?”

“I’m moving in with Jo for now, but we need to start looking for a new place, so we’re ready for when the baby gets here.” They couldn’t stay in his old house. It was too secluded, and there were too many stairs. Hugo wanted a place where Jo felt completely comfortable.

Tristan’s expression softened. “I get it. For what it’s worth, I think it’s a good move. Jo’s lucky to have you, and I’d wager you’re just as lucky to have her.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Anyway,” Tristan said, picking up his jacket. “Enjoy your cozy night in. I’ll send you updates from the battlefield—if I survive the Bar d’Up crowd.”