Page 130 of Protecting What's Mine

“That sounds nice. I can probably get away.” Mack ignored the sick, cold dread that slid into her stomach. Her mother had a disease. Daughters, especially doctors, didn’t walk away from a parent because they were sick.

She heard a flurry of barking on her mother’s end of the call.

“Hush now, Gigi!”

“Did you get a dog?” Mack asked.

“I did! A couple of months ago. She’s a tiny little thing but barks like she’s a big dog. Anyway, I took a peek at flights from Philadelphia—”

“I’m not based in Philadelphia anymore,” Mack said. “I’m in Maryland.”

She’d had no idea her mother had gotten a dog, just like Andrea hadn’t known Mack moved.

“Oh, well. Isn’t that nice?”

And that was the extent of their small talk. Mack promised she’d confirm her travel dates. Andrea gleefully took responsibility for making a dinner reservation for her birthday dinner.

It would be somewhere fancy, with gold-rimmed plates, white linens, and tiny portions. If there was one thing her mother loved more than alcohol, it was appearances. In Andrea’s mind, the most important thing in the world was maintaining a certain level of respectability. She was never without makeup, false lashes, and heels. Even when she was shitfaced.

At one time, Mack had thought her mother beautiful. But the ugly truth that no lipstick or pretty dress could conceal never stayed hidden for long.

Mack disconnected, feeling the way she always did after a conversation with her mother: anxious, unsettled, and vaguely ill. She could use a strong hug and maybe a happy dog, she decided and picked up her keys.

THE FIRE STATION’Sbay doors were wide open as the B Shift volunteers buzzed in and out seeing to routine tasks. Bright lights, shiny trucks, and people doing what they’d promised to do. It was a balm to her irritated spirit.

She parked and got out, now feeling silly.

She should have texted first or, better yet, gone straight home. It wasn’t like she was going to tell Linc about her mother. That would open the doors to her childhood. And there was no reason to go digging into that mess. She was a survivor. Not a victim. And looking forward was healthier than looking back.

But there was a joyful bark, and Sunshine was galloping in her direction.

“Hey, buddy,” Mack said, kneeling down to give the dog a good scruff. She gave in to her need for comfort and buried her face in the soft, blonde fur.

Sunshine snuck in a kiss, and Mack laughed, wondering if her mother had found this kind of joy with her dog.

“I’d like to report a dognapping in progress,” Linc called through a bullhorn, strolling out of the garage. “Unhand the dog, lady.”

She rose, brushing dirt and dog fur off her pants. He was dressed in tactical pants and a long-sleeved BFD polo that fit him like a second skin. His ball cap was on backward, and there was a smudge of grease on his jaw. That cocky grin was exactly what she needed, as was the hard hug he gave her when she walked into his arms.

“This is a nice surprise,” he said, leaning back and lifting her off her feet to the whistles and hoots of appreciation from his crew.

“Hi,” she said, feeling the ice in her belly thaw into something molten and warm.

“How was your day, Dreamy?” he asked, setting her back on her feet and slinging an arm around her shoulders.

Before she could answer, the alarm blared.

Everyone around them jumped into action.

“What have we got?” Linc called over the noise as he dragged her inside.

“Car into a structure, possible cardiac arrest,” Brody yelled back, shrugging into his gear.

“Feel like taking a ride, doc?” Linc offered.

A trauma physician on the ground was never a bad thing. “Let’s go.”

She grabbed her med bag and loaded it into the chief’s vehicle. In seconds, Linc was climbing in behind the wheel, wearing the bottom half of his gear. Sunshine watched mournfully from the end of her leash as they pulled away.