Page 124 of Protecting What's Mine

She bit her lip and picked up a spiral-bound notebook next to the couch. “They’re my dead,” she said finally.

“Patients you’ve lost,” he clarified, with the hope that the woman he was head over heels for wasn’t confessing to being a serial killer.

She nodded.

Linc was relieved. “They’re really good.”

Her shrug was jerky. “Thanks. I picked it up after First Responder Day. I used to sketch when I was a teenager. I thought maybe if I got them down on paper that maybe I wouldn’t have to carry them all around with me anymore.”

He got it. He carried his own shadows with him. All first responders did, and sometimes the load got too heavy.

“Who was she?” he asked, opening to the first sketch again.

“I don’t really know much about most of them,” she said, staring down at the woman on the page. “She was the last one I lost in Afghanistan. She was a medic and a translator and got caught in some crossfire. I knew she wasn’t going to make it back to the base. But instead of sitting there and holding her hand, I gave her plasma and worked on her injuries. I knew she wasn’t going to survive. Her heart stopped five minutes out and never restarted. And I didn’t know her name or who she was thinking about when she slipped away. I just knew that her blood pressure was too low and her heart had stopped.”

“That’s what you’re trained to do,” he reminded her.

“But it wasn’t what she needed. My medic on that flight, he leaned down and whispered in her ear the whole time. I thought I was annoyed that he wasn’t getting me what I needed fast enough because he was too busy trying to make this connection to this person who wasn’t going to make it. And that sounds horrible,” she confessed. “But I was mad at myself for not being able to offer that kind of comfort. I could fill her up with pain meds. But he was the reason she died with this little smile on her lips. He promised her he’d tell her mom that she was the best mom in the world. And I only did what I was trained to do.”

“Did he tell her?” Linc asked.

“Probably. I don’t know. After that flight, I decided it was time to be done. To do something else. My deployment was up. And I decided I wasn’t going back.”

His doctor always seemed to be moving forward, never looking back.

“And here you are,” he said. He wanted to flip through the pages and study the faces she’d drawn.

“With a backyard full of people and a house full of dogs,” Mack said, cracking a hint of a smile as Lola flopped on her back on the couch, legs in the air.

Sunshine was busy chewing on a squeak toy shaped like a taco that Mack bought for her. Max was biting Sunshine’s fluffy tail.

She was a miracle, he decided. A walking, talking, scarred, beautiful miracle, and he was only just beginning to scratch the surface.

“I feel like the more I get to know you, the more I want you around, Mackenzie.” It wasn’t exactly a confession of love or a demand for forever. But it was something.

She let out a steadying breath. “I maybe don’t hate the idea of sticking around,” she said.

They were standing with the coffee table between them and a whole lifetime of unspoken words. But for now it was enough.

The back door slid open. “Mack, where’s your diaper changing station, and do you have any tarps and biohazard suits?” Aldo asked, holding Avery at arm’s length. The baby smelled like sewage and was belly-laughing.

40

On a chilly Sunday just before Halloween, Sunshine’s presence was requested at Jillian’s so she could teach their dog how to stop eating throw pillows, socks, and loaves of bread he counter-surfed for. Linc invited Mack along for the ride.

They watched together from the truck as Sunshine plowed full steam ahead through the open front door, and Jillian gave them a harried wave.

“Don’t corrupt our girl,” Linc called out the window of his truck.

“Oh, shit,” Mack snickered. They watched through the big front window as Sunshine, followed by the new dog, Beefcake, hurled themselves onto the back of the sofa. They could hear the crash as the curtains and curtain rod fell to the floor.

“Yep. Teaching Beefcake everything she knows,” Linc said, throwing the truck in reverse and peeling out of the driveway.

“Shouldn’t we go back and help?” Mack asked, still laughing.

“Hell no. Up for a little detour?” he asked, taking her hand.

“I’m all yours,” she said.