by Kilby Blades
James laughed. “Well, that’ll teach you to seduce me.”
Anne rolled her eyes. “I was your wife. Naked. In our bed. Hardly a threat.”
Anne grimaced and James wondered what she was thinking. Was it about him or their dog?
He pushed away all thoughts of Anne’s fingers in Chase and said, “Three months ago, he took down a guy running through a deer blind, waving a machete, and naked as a blue jay. The guy was about seventy pounds overweight, potbellied as a pig, and greased up in some sort of oil so he couldn’t be taken down.”
Anne raised her eyebrows. “Crazy?”
He shook his head. “Staging a protest against the inhumane and unethical treatment of animals.”
“So, crazy.” Anne smirked, sparking something in him. “What happened?”
“No time to wait for back up because there was a kid about twenty yards from where he was waving the knife. I couldn’t shoot and he was too far away to taze him, so I let Chase loose.” James chuckled remembering the look of horror on the loon’s face as Chase charged him. “Chase took him down and had his jowls locked on his knife-wielding arm like Jaws. The original movie.
“Then what?”
“The man squealed, and I arrested him.”
“That’s awesome.”
“It was.”
“You know what else is awesome?”
James looked up. “What?”
“This.” Anne held up the bullet. It was smashed so flat it looked like a razor blade.
“You found it! Definitely a 22-millimeter.”
“Clean too. It was right in his intestines. Plenty of cushioning there. I can’t promise there isn’t any internal damage, but this looks good. But he’s off duty for a while, okay?”
Tears burned his eyes and he wanted to crush her to him. Instead, he clutched his fist to his sides. “Thank you.”
“I assume when I write the report, I’ll be given lenience considering the circumstances.”
James blinked. “Report?” How could she be worried about her job at a time like this? Didn’t she always think about her job first?
Anne looked around and raised her brows. James hadn’t noticed until just now, but the room looked like the aftermath of a war zone. Bloody gauze, discarded towels and tools. Not to mention the trail of blood that led from the lobby to the surgery room, which wasn’t a surgery room at all. The stainless steel table was actually the break room table. There was a vending machine in the corner. A fridge hummed against the back wall. Even brightly colored flower wallpaper bordered the top of the walls. But James had been too preoccupied to notice any of this. She’d brought Chase into their employee break room? Where people eat!
“Why did you bring him in here?”
“Because this is a clinic and our exam rooms have tiny beds that are meant for checking throats and looking in ears or performing the occasional Pap smear.”
James did not need the visual, which reminded him that he still had a Kotex on his face. “Gross.”
“If it’s medically necessary, we do it. But what we don’t do is remove bullets.”
“What’s going to happen here?” James asked, finally grasping the full weight of what she did for him.
Anne set her hands on her hips. “For starters, I’ll call someone in to dispose of this table.”
James snickered. “Well, That’s a start.”
“Then I’ll probably have to call in a HAZMAT cleaning service to handle the deep cleaning.
“Really?”
“No, just some bleach and a ton of disinfectant will be fine.”
James grinned, taking her in from head to toe. “I’d start with a change of clothes.”
Under her lab coat, her silky, floral shirt and tan slacks were covered in blood. She looked like something straight out of a horror film.
She glanced down and shrugged. “Nature of the job. I was married to you, I’ve seen worse.”
“You’re still my wife.”
Anne shook her head and glanced at the wall clock, a somber look in her eyes. “An hour doesn’t count.”
He took a step toward her, hoping he read her right when they signed on the dotted line. Hoping she knew, like he knew, that neither of them wanted this.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. My wife.”
It was the truth. Even when midnight struck, they would still be married. Call it shitty timing, but since the call he’d received last week from his lawyer, he’d been grateful for the opportunity to reconcile. An opportunity he had hoped to share with her over a Valentine’s Day surprise.
“And,” she said with forced lightheartedness in her tone, “by the looks of the blood soaking through your Kotex, you still need me.”
Anne
One thing was certain. Anne was covered in dog. Dog hair, dog fluids, dog blood.
She squeezed her eyes shut at the thought of loosing that gorgeous black German Shepherd. Dogs like him always seemed to be phased out. The Belgian Malinois were quickly becoming a K-9 favorite for their fierce noses when tracking both drugs and criminals. They also ranked higher in the agility department because they were smaller. But, one thing she knew being married to a K-9 cop: departments always came back to the German Shepherd. It would always be her dog breed of choice. And here was her baby, the pup she watched grow and train over the past four years. The puppy who hated to be picked up but always wanted to tuck his long, cold nose under her butt after being out all day. This was the smart canine who’d find a marble and drop it into a shoe and then chew the shoe apart to get that marble. He would eat his food and then grab his food bowl and throw it at her, demanding more. All these little nuances that proved how smart and neurotic he was. And now here he was, lying helpless on her break-room table, bleeding out.
Anne pressed her hand against James head. “How are you feeling?”
“It doesn’t hurt much.”
“Let’s get you taken care of.”
James flinched against her touch. “Why don’t you take a moment to get cleaned up?”
“May as well stitch you up first.”
He took her hands in his and, though she wanted to fight against his hold, she couldn’t help feeling safe. “You’re shaking. Give yourself a few minutes to regroup. That was really intense. I’ll be okay. Get yourself taken care of.”
As much as she hated to agree, he was right. A few moments to pull herself together wouldn’t hurt. “Okay.”
She glanced toward Chase. He slept, his breaths coming in quick, short pants, but with the wound sewn tight, her best guess was that the worst was over.
“I might have a change of clothes in my locker, I’ll be right back,” she told James. “Go ahead and wait in exam room number one.”
“Sure.” He retrieved his gun from the counter and sauntered down the hall, where he disappeared into the first room on the right.
It didn’t matter how many times she watched him walk away, she couldn’t ever not watch. Divorce or not,everything about James was perfect. She sighed. Except his jealousy.
Anne stripped her coat off, wadding it up as she walked into the cramped co-ed locker room. It was barely twice the size of their office bathrooms, with one shower stall, six lockers, and a gurney against the back wall. She had probably logged an average of two nights a week on that thing. Small towns have small ways and, with a total of seven staff working at the clinic, it wasn’t unheard-of for someone to catch a nap.
Anne tossed her lab coat into the basket, then started on her blouse buttons. Then the tremors started.
“Dammit,” she muttered to herself. The tears welled up and wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t contain her sobs long enough to get a hold of herself, and, no matter how hard she bit her tongue, she couldn’t gain control over herself.
She dropped to her knees and her hair fell over her face. She’d allow a minute to compose herself. Her dog had nearly died. Her divorce to a man she still very much loved would be final within an hour. Her caree
r would be in jeopardy for what she’d just done in her goddamn break room. It was all too much for one night.
A hand on her shoulder shook her from her thoughts. She pressed her fingertips to her eyes, and swiped at her tears.
“Annie.” Like it or not, his sure, steady voice sent calm through her. “Come here.”
James sat on the gurney and pulled her into his arms. He pressed her head into his shoulder and smoothed down her hair.
“I’m fine,” she said, sniffling back the tears. They didn’t stop, and now that mucousy thing tears did to women made her look like a mess. She dabbed her face with a clean spot on her shirt, fighting a losing battle.
“Sure you’re fine. And I didn’t just spend the last twenty minutes with a feminine product on my head.”
Anne burst out a laugh, then choked on the phlegm. She looked up at her husband’s face. It was Kotex Free. “You took it off?”
One more hour. He’s only your husband for one more hour.
“As much as I enjoyed it, yes. It was time to change my pad.”
Anne laughed again. “Stop it.” She swatted his arm. “You can’t say ‘pad’. Only woman can use that word.”
He squeezed her one more time, before releasing her. “Buying feminine products for you earned me that right. But seriously, one way or another, it’s going to be okay.”
The way she melted into his body reopened a thousand gaping wounds she’d sewn shut after he’d left. She’d suture those wounds again later. For now, she wanted this moment.
Anne blew out a puff of air. No, she wasn’t okay. But, yes, she was absolutely grateful that he was here, even if it was under the worst circumstances. “I’m better. I just needed a minute. It’s a little…much, I guess.”
“Understandable.” His hand grazed hers.
Anne stood. She couldn’t keep letting her heart break. She glanced toward the door, hoping he’d get the hint. “Let me get cleaned up and I’ll stitch you.”
He stood up, leaning entirely too close. “I think it’s clotting well enough.”
Anne held up an authoritative finger. “Don’t even think about trying to get out of it. You need a stitch.” She grinned, her skin way too warm this close to his. “But no Harry Potter. I promise.”
His half-smile slanted up. “Thank you.”
“Zorro is way more you.”
He cocked a brow. “Funny.”
“You need a change of clothes, too,” Anne said, yanking a navy-blue nurse’s smock off of a hanger from her locker.
“Don’t worry about me, I got this.” He shrugged out of his flannel top where his white undershirt flipped up, exposing his ripped abs beneath.
A guilty shiver of want crept through her and drool may have pooled at the corner of her lips.
Nope. Not going there.
She turned her head to face the bleak metal nothingness of her locker.
“The blood will dry on my pants. The rest I’ll wash off while you take a shower.”
Before Anne could argue that she could just wash the blood from her hands, arms, body, face, she side-eyed James. She surmised that she’d also have to rinse the salty layer of nervous perspiration coating her armpits where her untimely sweat glands had jumped into hyper drive in response to having her untouchable husband’s ripped muscles in such close proximity.
Okay, maybe a shower wouldn’t hurt.
James reached out and flipped on the water. A genuine smile, one she’d fought the past half hour—actually, the past six months—crept across her lips. Actually having James here gave her a small sliver of happiness on this otherwise awful day. She hated what tonight was. Valentine’s Day Eve on top of Divorce Eve.
Worst Valentine’s Day ever.
She scratched the thought from her mind, not allowing another bout of phlegm to make another cameo. “Thank you,” she managed.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll see you back in the exam room.”
Anne nodded.
Fifteen minutes later, feeling a million times better thanks to a great smelling body wash on a soft loofah and the feel of smooth, shaved legs, Anne slipped into her scrubs and slid on a pair of hospital-grade socks. She towel dried her hair and sprayed something pretty to offset any chance of lingering dog smell.
Anne tossed her soiled clothes in a plastic bag and chucked them in her locker. Before stepping out of the room, Anne paused and took a deep, steadying breath. “He’s just a patient.”
When Anne checked exam room one, it was empty. Of course. She grabbed the stitch kit and pushed through the break room door. James had pulled up a chair and sat directly in front of their dog. Anne bit her lip, taking in the James she once knew. He more than filled out his t-shirt, his rustled hair stuck up in every direction giving him a boyish charm, and no matter how strong he was, when it came to something as delicate as life or death for his animal—his partner—his best friend, James was reduced to child-like innocence. To pleading and crying. Just like she was the night he walked out on their marriage.
He rested his chin on his arm, a hand tracing Chase’s nose.
“How is he?” Anne whispered, leaning against the door.
James sat up. “You tell me. You’re the doctor.”
Anne smiled. “About that stitch.”
James went a little green. Anne flopped her tool kit on the table next to him. She grabbed the disinfectant and the cleaning pad. “Ready? This may hurt a little.”
He didn’t flinch away from this threat, but instead, looked up at her, seemingly putting all his faith in her hands. The trusting look in his deep-set eyes made her want him even more.
She swallowed down the want and cleaned the wound, trying to simultaneously wipe away the pain.
Irreconcilable Differences. That’s the box he checked.
Irreconcilable, because he was sure she’d cheated on him.
Thirty minutes and they would both start a new chapter.
“Was it Zorro? Or, considering the holiday, did you want Cupid’s arrow stitched on here?”
James
Man, she smelled good. What sort of sexy lotion did she apply after her shower? He stared at the wall, failing to not visualize her wet and naked.
When he’d heard her crying in the back, his heart broke. What did he expect, bringing Chase here without warning? He’d had the drive, the crash, and the run to process what was happening, but she’d had no warning. Not that he could have with his phone gone. He’d crashed through the door, knowing exactly what he’d looked like, thanks to the reflection on the door window, and asked her to risk her job, save their dog, and not acknowledge what today was. How could she not to break down?
When her sobs had echoed through the hallway and seeped into his room, he’d had to go to her. Only an ass would ignore that. He’d forgotten how beautiful and vibrant she looked, especially when she was vulnerable.
He only wished he could take back time and not accuse her of something as heinous as cheating. His only proof was a few misleading texts from a doctor, long hours at the clinic alone with that doctor when she said she was out with friends, and a personal insecurity that probably stemmed from his own cheating dad. Except, unlike his mom, he didn’t stay and try.
“Hold your chin up,” Anne instructed.
“Sorry,” he said, fixing his gaze on her deep brown eyes. They had a hint of gold flecks in them.
“This might sting a little. I’m going to give you a shot of Lidocaine.”
“I can handle it.”
Anne sat back on her heels. “Oh really? Ever had a needle stuck directly in a wound?”
James shrugged. “Can’t be worse than pepper spray to the eyes like I had at the academy.”
“I beg to differ, but we’ll see.” Anne leaned forward. “Ready? Should I count down from three?”
James squeezed his eyes tight. “Just do it. But make it quick. Ahh, don’t pinch the skin, just do it.”
“Done.”
“What?”
“Yeah, old mai
d’s trick. Get you thinking it’s about to happen, and do it while your body releases cortisol to absorb the impending stress.”
James blinked. “I’m sorry, English please.”
“I tricked you. It’s done. Give it two minutes and you’ll be numb.”
James raised his brow. Well, he tried to raise them. The medicine seeped through his skin, ceasing that ability. “Well played, Dr. Riley.”
Anne cracked a half laugh. “Yeah, I guess I’ll have to change my lab coat when I go back to my maiden name.”
“Oh.” That stung. “You’re changing your name?”
“I’m not going to be a Riley any more. We don’t have kids. There’s no reason to hold on to something that’s not mine.”
James dropped his eyes to her left hand. Her rings were also removed. Something he didn’t realize she’d done. But he couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t worn his ring since the day he filed. “I gave you that name. It’s yours for as long as you want.”
Anne breathed out. He saw her dry swallow and thought he felt her tense at the same time. “Hold still. I’m almost finished.”
“Annie?”
She shifted uncomfortably. After years of reading body language, he knew the ambivalen look of discomfort well. Her hands stilled. “Annie, you okay?”
She glanced at him, then concentrated on the stitches. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”
“Do what?”
“Call me Annie. Be extra nice. All that. I’d stitch you up even if you were being a jerk. Sort of a Good Samaritan thing. Comes with the health care service.”
“I’m not . . . not being extra nice.”
Anne’s eyes briefly bounced to his. “You are and I’m telling you that you don’t have to. You don’t have to let me keep you name. You don’t have to act like fifteen minutes from now won’t mean something different.”
James didn’t respond. What could he say? She was right. He’d initiated things. Cost her the price of filling out the paperwork herself since she never retained a lawyer, though they had a pretty straightforward mediation. No fighting for property. He moved out. She’d kept the jeep. He’d kept the dog. It was all very amicable. At least at first. Okay, maybe cold was a better term, but she was willing to let him go. She hadn’t become bitter until he’d maintained full custody of their dog. But Chase was his partner, more than her companion. Due to the circumstances, the mediator ha suggested that Anne have visitation, something James always found a reason to reschedule.
