No Quick Fix (Torus Intercession 1)

He took a breath.

I waited.

“How do you even answer questions like that? From their families?”

“You can’t keep that stuff from people; they have a right to know. And you understand, those were the last words someone they loved would ever speak.”

He was studying my face.

“There’s no more time, and people need closure.”

His eyes were so deep and dark and wet now with tears. I really wanted to simply ease him forward into my arms and hold him against my heart. It took a lot of control to keep still and not reach for him.

“Okay,” he said after a moment. “But I want to sit with her.”

“Of course.”

He stood then, and I thought he was going to shake my hand, maybe, but instead he walked forward and right into me, into my space, his arms lifting to wrap around my neck as he leaned in and gave me his weight.

In my civilian life, no one ever hugged me to get comfort. It had been different in the service when everything was life-and-death and you had only your buddies to turn to. But back in the world, I got hugged only before kissing, which always led to fucking, but no one ever just needed me. Not until I came to this house.

I realized as he clutched at me that I really liked having him all over me. Only when he shuddered did I realize he was crying. His sobs were the same as April’s had been earlier, except that instead of crying on my chest, he bawled into the side of my neck. I held him tight, one hand between his shoulder blades, the other on the small of his back, pressing him against me, trying to push whatever strength I had at the moment into him. “I think all you guys are having some trouble right now. Because you’re getting married and so it’s bringing stuff up all over again.”

He nodded and inhaled, trying to calm himself.

“Please let me help you. It’s what I’m here for, but more than that, I want to.”

“I know,” he whispered as he eased himself from my arms and then gave me a brilliant smile. “So,” he said, sniffling before sighing deeply. “What else do you plan to fix while you’re here? You should give me a list.”

“Gimme a second and I’ll figure it out,” I said gruffly, really liking how I was being looked at. There was so much fondness there already, and I realized I had misread him earlier. He hadn’t been planning to kick me out, to get rid of me. He’d been blindsided because he was already counting me on his side, and when he thought I’d turned on him and promised his child something he had not yet agreed to, that had been a betrayal. He was hurt. And I’d been able to do that because he’d already given me that power. It was a huge responsibility, the navigation between what the kid needed and what the parent could do, or would. I had no idea how people did it every day, the dance of parenting while also staying in sync with a partner or spouse. It was terrifying. And I knew right then that Olivia wasn’t the only one in danger of becoming attached. The kind, soft-spoken man with the adorable daughters was giving me heart palpitations after only a few hours; what would it feel like after days or weeks?

I had to steel myself to walk away and remember they didn’t belong to me. They weren’t mine. I was only passing through. Distance was key as was the reminder that I was only there for a very short time. It was definitely something to keep in the forefront of my mind.

Once I showered and changed, I called my buddy who had quit during Hell Week when we were going through Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL or BUD/S training. I had been sad to see him go but pleased he wanted to continue our friendship after he left. I was even more appreciative of our bond when I got out of the Navy and he insisted I give Chicago a shot instead of returning to San Diego where I started. His guest room became my temporary home as I looked for work in the Windy City. He was there because once his contract with the Navy was up, he’d returned to medical school and was now an attending physician at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. He was a cardiovascular surgeon and was building a name for himself in the medical community.

“Can you Skype with me later today?” I asked Dr. Anthony Leone. “I’m on a job, and there’s a little girl and her dad who need some straight talk about what happened to Mom when she died.”

“Define straight talk,” he said, and I could hear the concern in his voice. “And how did she die?”