“We’ve got Mr. Gannaway on fluids and are monitoring his condition closely. He’s not out of the woods yet, but you were spot-on in your diagnosis.”
Ryan’s expression shifted back into professional mode, but his fingers tightened around hers. “Is there a prognosis yet?”
“The doctor will be out to talk with you as soon as she can.”
He simply nodded. To anyone who didn’t know him, he’d appear calm and collected, totally in control. But his brittle edges stood out to her like flares. If anything happened to Percy…
No. Nothing was going to happen to Percy. He was going to be fine. They’d gotten him here in time, and she refused to acknowledge any other outcome. One of them had to maintain some optimism. Ryan was far too close to breaking.
Corinne held out the clipboard. “I understand you aren’t exactly family, but as you were the one who brought him in, can you fill out as much of this paperwork as you can?”
“Of course.”
As soon as they sat down, he stared at the forms as if they were in a whole other language. Hannah’s heart pinched at seeing him anything other than a hundred percent capable. He was so used to taking care of everybody else, she didn’t think he ever acknowledged he needed someone to take care of him. She wanted to do that for him, wanted to ease this burden.
She squeezed his arm. “Maybe I should get us some coffee.”
“Yeah, okay.”
She rose just as the exterior doors slid open again and someone walked in with a service dog. The sight of it snapped her brain into gear again. “Oh my God, Duke!”
“What?”
“He’s probably going nuts in the house. We just left him.” Was this what had happened with his previous owner?
“I didn’t even think about him.” Ryan rubbed at his temple, as if this was one more thing he wasn’t sure he could handle.
This, at least, she could fix. “It’ll be fine. I’ll get him taken care of.”
He shot her a look of gratitude as she pulled out her phone and dialed. “Brooke. It’s Hannah. I need a favor.”
Over the long hours, the ER waiting room had mostly emptied out. Ryan had done his duty, calling all the family who was still waiting for word. His mom had been ready to drive down on the spot, but he’d urged her to wait until there was more definitive news on Percy’s condition. Hannah had made arrangements for Brooke to keep Duke until they were free to come get him, so that was one less detail to worry about. She’d also called Betty and the rest of the Casserole Patrol, who’d set up a vigil for several hours in one corner of the waiting room. He’d finally convinced them to go home around midnight, with promises he’d send word if anything changed before morning.
Hannah yawned, her head dropping to his shoulder. For a long moment, he enjoyed the comfort of the weight of her against him. A solid, steady presence. He couldn’t have gotten through this without her. Not in his current mental state over things with his team, with Robbie. But it wasn’t fair to take advantage of her and expect her to stick it out the rest of the night.
“You don’t have to stay.”
She didn’t even lift her head. “Yes I do. I’ve already taken off tomorrow. I’m not leaving you here alone.”
He didn’t deserve her kindness.
“Everyone deserves kindness,” she murmured.
Apparently, he’d spoken aloud. “I didn’t treat you with kindness.” It was the truth and it was out there. He might as well make his apologies and address it, even if it pushed her away. “I’m sorry I behaved like a jackass.”
She straightened. “You said you had a reason.”
That reason detonated in his head, his heart, as his brain conjured images of his friend. Of the smile and the terrible jokes he’d never hear again.
Ryan took a slow breath. “This is the longest stretch I’ve been off in about four years. I’ve been on deployment, going from mission to mission with my team. When you’re out there, in the middle of all the violence, it gets where that’s the only thing you can see. It’s the only thing you know. I didn’t think too much about it. Part of our training involves compartmentalization. We deal with what’s in front of us. Nothing more, nothing less. And we don’t get attached to much outside the team. It’s normal. Our normal, anyway. I don’t know when I stopped expecting more, stopped seeing anything else.”
His thumb stroked along the back of her hand, taking comfort, even now. Her face held no judgment, just patience and curiosity.
“But you made me think about it. You made me want something else. Sometime while I’ve been here, you blew that objectivity and compartmentalization all to hell. I stayed longer than I intended, partly because of Percy’s lack of cooperation, but partly because I didn’t want to go back. I didn’t want to walk away from you. I started thinking about all those what ifs I don’t allow myself in the field. About what it would be like to not be dealing with battle trauma and death. To get out, go to med school, and specialize in something where seeing my patients doesn’t remind me of my failures. Where nobody’s permanently maimed or dying. And I want that so fucking bad, I can taste it.”
The hand he held tightened around his fingers. “There’s no shame in that.”
He dropped his head. She had no idea how much shame there was in that for him. “Right after I left you the other night, I got a call from a friend. One of our team was injured on an op. There was a fucking trip wire and a homemade bomb. Robbie didn’t survive long enough to make it on the helo for extraction and treatment.”