by Mara Wells
“If you say so.” Knox never wanted to call it quits at physical therapy, and he performed his take-home exercises religiously. Zealously. If they told him to do something once per day, he did it twice. “Sure you don’t want to give me something else to do?”
“You are determined. I’ll give you that.” Ana checked his chart on the tablet, tapping the tip of the stylus against her lower lip. “Have it your way then. Let’s work on balance.”
Knox stifled his groan. Strength training, yes. He could push through anything physical. But the balance exercises killed him. “Sure thing.”
“Let’s put you on the BAPS board for a bit.” She bounced away in her high-tech sneakers.
Knox marched after her, ready to face his blue plastic nemesis. He stepped onto foot outlines on the irregularly shaped disk. He immediately grabbed for the bars on either side to steady himself on the board.
“You wanted more weight? Let’s try some here.” Ana knelt down to fiddle with the board, a post, and a small weight. “Okay, give it a try. Twenty taps forward, then twenty taps backward. You know the drill.”
He did indeed know the drill, and he hated it. Today, he found out he hated it even more with weight added to the board so that it took more effort to keep his balance on the unsteady surface. After the first ten taps, his braced leg started to tremble, but he pushed his awareness of it away and kept tapping.
“Hey, hey, hey. You gotta stop him, Ana.” Another physical therapist technician, this one significantly older than Ana with gray in his hipster beard and in the long strands of hair he had pulled back into a ponytail. “Don’t you see his leg?”
Knox stilled the board, and Ana and the hipster tech both inspected his braced leg.
“Knox.” Ana’s voice was schoolteacher stern. “You’re supposed to tell me when your leg is stressed.”
“I didn’t feel it,” he lied.
“I’m Luis.” The hipster took the tablet from Ana. “And you’re lying.”
Prove it. Knox didn’t say the words, but Luis must’ve seen them in his expression because he shook his head and said, “Leathernecks. Never know when to stop.”
Knox knew enough to stay silent. Luis clicked away on the pad, shifting his gaze from the screen to Knox and back again several times. Finally, he asked, “When was the last time you saw your physical therapist?”
Knox tipped his head at Ana. “She’s right here.”
“Not a tech. When was your last evaluation?”
Knox lifted a shoulder.
“How’s next Tuesday? Eight in the morning good for you?” Luis flipped the tablet so Knox could see a calendar.
It wasn’t like Knox had a regular job. He helped out Lance nearly every day, but he could come and go as he pleased. Knox lifted his other shoulder. “Sure.”
“Good because you are long overdue. Ana, we need to talk.” Luis handed the tablet back to her and whisked himself away.
“Sounds like you’re in trouble.” Knox carefully stepped off the board. “I hope it’s not my fault.”
“Luis is so uptight.” Ana rolled her eyes. “But he is right about one thing. You shouldn’t be pushing yourself so hard that your leg shakes like that. You’ve got to tell me when you’re at your edge.”
“I tell you.” Knox rubbed his leg, which was still shaking.
Ana shook her head so hard that her right braid unraveled and tumbled down the back of her head. “I know you want everything to hurry up, but that’s not how the body works. You have to give it time.”
“It’s been almost two years.” Knox didn’t mean to raise his voice.
Ana stepped back, holding up her hand. “And it could take another year. Or two. You don’t tell your body what its healing schedule is. It tells you.”
Knox narrowed his eyes at her, knowing it wasn’t her fault his body was so slow to come back from his IED injury. Knowing it wasn’t her fault that he wasn’t with his unit. That he was medically separated. Separated, another word for divorce. And it definitely wasn’t her fault that he’d probably never be an active Marine again.
“Sorry,” he growled, his voice still too loud. It wasn’t her fault; it wasn’t anyone else’s fault but his own. He’d grown too complacent, the sameness of the supply run lulling him into thinking he knew the terrain. If he’d been more vigilant, he might’ve noticed the fresh dirt on the road a few moments sooner, and then maybe Munoz and Whittier would still be alive, and he’d still have full use of his left leg.
Ana wound her braid back up onto her head and secured it with a bright-blue hair tie. “Keep the faith, Knox. You’ll get there.”
He grunted his response because her there meant regaining strength and stability, but she didn’t think—no doctor or physical therapist thought—he’d get full use of his leg back. When the medical team at Lejeune determined he was no longer fit for active duty, that was the end of it, his entire career in the Marines. The longer and harder he worked, the more he wondered if they were right.
“See you next time.” He rubbed his left leg, right above the brace, willing the muscles to calm the hell down.
“After your meeting with the doc, okay?” Ana quickly passed him, heading to her next appointment.
Knox limped out to his Range Rover and hauled himself into the driver’s seat. If he was lucky, Lance’s crew would be doing some demolition at the Dorothy today. He could really get behind a sledgehammer right about now. It was satisfying, the swing and smash of demo work. He shot Lance a text that he was on his way, then scrolled through the rest of his messages.
Danielle’s message was the fourth one down, right after an automated text from the pharmacy reminding him to pick up his prescription, a note from his mother asking to reschedule their weekly phone call for an hour later, and yet another text from Morales. Knox deleted the pharmacy reminder, texted his mom a quick affirmative, and let his finger hang over Morales’ name before deciding a phone call would be quicker.
“Gunny!” Morales’ voice was loud enough that Knox dialed down his volume. Morales had been there when the IED exploded, had been the one to pull Knox away from the wreckage, had been the one to tell him Munoz and Whittier were gone. Yeah, they went way back. “How’s life in the Sunshine State?”
“Good.” Knox rubbed at the ache in his leg. At least it had finally stopped shaking. “How’s Atlanta? The business?”
“Damn paperwork with the city, man. It’s killing me.” Morales had left the Marines a few months after Knox, at the conclusion of his third tour, and knocked around a bit before settling in Atlanta where he was opening an all-Marine veteran-run security firm. “But we’re almost there. Set to open any day now. You given any more thought to joining us? We could use the muscle.”
Knox winced, glad they weren’t on video so Morales couldn’t see how exhausted he was from a mere PT session. “You know I got this family thing. Can’t leave until this building’s finished up. Besides, might get a medical clearance by then and I’ll be back in the Corps.”
“Right. Right.” Morales had never been good at lying, so his agreement sounded exactly like what it was—humoring a delusion. Knox knew it, but the hope of getting back to his men was what motivated him through his painful rehabilitation. What would he do without it?
Morales cleared his throat, but his voice was still rough when he said, “If that doesn’t work out, or you decide you like being a civvie, my offer’s still good. Think about it.”
“I will.” Knox wasn’t ready to think about what would happen once the Dorothy was finished and he had to figure out his next step, especially if he wasn’t cleared for reenlistment. He probably would take Morales up on the job offer if it came to that, but he still had time to figure it out. As he did so many times per day, he pushed thoughts of the future out of his mind.
Thoughts of the past crept in, and Knox scrolled right to Danielle�
��s text. He knew it was her because his phone showed him the first line of the text: Hey it’s Danielle. He hesitated before clicking on the message, reminding himself that she could’ve gotten his number from any one of his well-meaning family. Still, his mind raced, trying to think why she’d reach out. It wasn’t like he’d left a sparkling impression when they’d parted ways on Saturday. No, he’d pretty much been an asshole, doing his best to cover for the pain in his leg and paying for it by landing on his butt in front of her. He sure wasn’t the smooth athlete she’d known in high school, but she was texting him anyway. What could she want?
He finally opened her message and smiled at the brief video of Sarge rolling on his back in the grass. The dog’s tongue lolled to the side, and his legs pedaled in the air. Knox watched it a few times, noticing the curve of a bench in the background. He knew that bench. He’d helped install it. They were at Fur Haven. He checked the time stamp on the video. Only ten minutes ago.
He gunned his supercharged engine, the pain in his leg forgotten. If he hurried, he might catch Danielle and the dogs at the park. He didn’t question why it was so urgent to see her. He was trained to trust his gut, so he did.
The elevator ride to the top of the parking garage was excruciatingly long. When he lunged out, eyes scanning the rooftop park for three greyhounds and one small woman, he was disappointed to learn he was too late. The only occupants of the park were two women holding hands on one of the bone-shaped benches, a pug planted at their feet, gnawing on a palm frond twice its size.
“Hey, are you okay?” one of the women called to him.
“I’m good. Thanks.” He walked backward into the elevator, strangely deflated. What, had he thought Danielle was signaling him to come running to her side? He’d lost that privilege when he’d ignored her messages and calls all those years ago. She was clearly running a campaign to win him over to adopting Sarge, and that was all. She didn’t want to spend time with him, and he was deluding himself if he thought otherwise. He’d walked away for all the right reasons fifteen years ago. He shouldn’t muck it up now with second-guessing. Regrets didn’t bring Munoz and Whittier back to life, and they wouldn’t make Danielle forgive him for hurting her. His best course of action was no action, and that was always the hardest action of all to take.
* * *
Danielle observed her father’s careful probing and prodding with worried eyes. She’d known something was up with Flurry for a few days now, but she’d been hoping it was her imagination. The grim look on her father’s face said otherwise. She’d been right to come to the clinic straight from the dog park. Luna and Sarge were well taken care of up front—the receptionists doted on her dogs—and now she’d hopefully get an answer about Flurry’s condition and be able to start her on medications or whatever else she needed right away.
“I can’t figure out what’s wrong with her.” Danielle kept her hand on Flurry’s side while her father examined the pure-white greyhound on the examining table in room two. “At first, I thought she was putting on weight as a show of dominance. It took a few weeks for her and Sarge to get comfortable sharing food. But now they’re good buddies, and she’s still putting on the pounds. Plus she’s sleeping more than usual, and she doesn’t want me to rub her belly anymore.”
Dr. Morrow palpated the dog’s side and used his stethoscope on several pulse points. “Remember how undernourished Flurry was when you brought her in?”
Danielle winced. She didn’t like remembering how emaciated Flurry had been, nothing but a sack of bones, really. “And she was so weak from pneumonia, remember? It took her over a month to shake the infection.”
“Right.” Dr. Morrow finished his exam and stepped back. “That’s why we decided to hold off on spaying her until she was stronger. When did we spay her, Danielle? Do you remember?”
Danielle felt all the color leach from her skin. “We didn’t.”
“That’s right.” Dr. Morrow went into teaching mode, a habit he’d started when she was five and had declared her intention to become a veterinarian like him. The fact that her gap year had turned into two and then three, and then when her scholarships were no longer available, forever, hadn’t stopped him from quizzing her like a veterinary intern. “If she hasn’t been spayed, what do her symptoms point to?”
Danielle’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. “That she and Sarge are more than good buddies.”
“Buddies with benefits perhaps?” Dr. Morrow’s eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “Isn’t that what the young people are saying these days?”
“No, no, the young people don’t say that.” Danielle let the laugh out, and Flurry pricked her ears in Danielle’s direction. “But with his leg? That can’t have been comfortable for him.”
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” Dr. Morrow chuckled.
Danielle shook her head, bangs tickling her chin. “Boy, do I feel stupid. I can’t believe I let her spaying get away from me like that.”
“She was so delicate at first. You were right to be cautious. Then Sarge came along just as Flurry was at full strength.” Dr. Morrow slung his arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “You’ve had a lot going on. It’s understandable.”
“And now I’m going to have a lot more going on. Puppies!” Danielle knew she should be worried. With three adult greyhounds, her dad’s guesthouse was already at maximum dog capacity. Puppies required a lot of care, and then she’d have to find homes for all of them. She should be freaking out, but instead she was thrilled. “When do you think she’ll deliver?”
“Best guess? Another month. You know there could be up to a dozen of them.” Dr. Morrow squeezed Danielle’s shoulders, and she rested her cheek against his crisp lab coat.
“I know.” Danielle clapped her hands together. “A dozen puppies! I can’t wait.”
“You are definitely your mother’s daughter.” Dr. Morrow sighed and took one more listen to Flurry’s lungs. “She never met a puppy she didn’t love.”
Danielle’s smile quivered at the edges. Losing her mom before she could remember her was rough on her but rougher on her father. It was up to him to keep the memories alive, to help Danielle know a mother who’d died of breast cancer before Danielle’s third birthday. He’d done a great job. Sometimes, the memories he mentioned were so vivid in Danielle’s mind that she felt like they were hers. She swiped at her wet eyes and moved so that she was at Flurry’s head.
“You’re going to be a great mama, Flurry. And Dad?”
Dr. Morrow turned to catch his daughter’s gaze. “Yes?”
“Cast or no cast, I’ll be bringing Sarge in tomorrow to be neutered.”
Dr. Morrow chuckled. “A bit late to close the barn door now, pumpkin.”
Danielle let the nickname slide. “Better late than never.”
“Dr. Morrow?” the receptionist’s voice came over the room intercom. “Your three o’clock is here.”
Dr. Morrow pressed down the button on the ancient com system. “I’ll be right there, Bridget. Thank you.”
Danielle gave her dad a hug and helped Flurry off the table. She felt her phone ring in her back pocket, but she let it go to voicemail. She had a lot of planning to do.
Chapter 5
Knox stood at the sliding glass door that led out onto a spacious backyard, especially by Miami Beach standards. Heck, there was enough room to put in a pool and a swing set if a man were family-minded, which he wasn’t. Or at least he hadn’t been for fifteen years. The fact that he couldn’t get Danielle out of his mind since seeing her last weekend at the Fur Haven Dog Park grand opening did not bode well, particularly when the next thought was always What if. What if she hadn’t lost the baby? What if they had gotten married at the tender age of eighteen? Would they still be together? Would she have followed him around the world, living on bases, or would she have insisted on staying in Florida to finish her veterinary deg
ree? His no-action plan hadn’t stopped his mind from playing out all the possibilities, and he’d spent half a dozen restless nights remembering things that were better forgotten.
Lady nudged his hand with her nose, and he obliged her by scratching behind her ears. That was a good thing about dogs, how they were always in the present. He could use a reminder to stay the hell out of his own head and live in the moment. Hadn’t he seen enough evidence during his years of service that sometimes the moment was all you had? Images of orphaned children roaming wide-eyed with shock between burned-out buildings overtook his mind, and when he blinked rapidly to clear his inner vision, he saw Munoz and Whittier on the ground with far more than bits of their leg blown off by the IED. Lady whined and pushed into his good leg, breaking the spell of his past, and he used both hands to give her an energetic rubdown. “You’re a good dog, aren’t you?”
Lady preened at the praise, and he kept up a steady stream of chatter. “That’s a fine backyard you have there, Lady. Lots of room, yeah?” Her weight against him was steadying, and it made him think again of how having a dog might be a good thing for him. Sarge flashed through his mind. He’d like it here, wouldn’t he? What wasn’t to like about that big backyard with so many trees to pee on?
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Eliza stayed back, out of his line of vision. “I have a man comes around every other week to keep it tidy. Not too expensive. If you decide to buy the place, I’ll give you his info.”
“Thanks.” His response was as absentminded as his dog petting. In his mind’s eye, a new vision emerged. He pictured the swing set, a little girl sliding down the plastic ramp with Danielle’s hair and his eyes. He shook his head. That wasn’t right. Their daughter would be almost fourteen years old by now. If the baby had been a girl. It struck him that he didn’t know, and he likely never would. It wasn’t a question he could ever ask Danielle. But he could put a swing set in the backyard. Sell the house to a new family, one with young kids who could grow up playing outside.
