A Soldier's Reunion

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“May I come in?” Nolan asked.

Mandy shifted. “Looks like you already are.”

Guilt prodded Mandy to squirm under his gently inquisitive eyes.

Vague recollections of him walking her to the lab and imaging departments last night seeped into her thoughts. Holding her as she’d tried not to yelp from pain as technicians straightened her hand to get a good image. He’d talked her through the procedure as a doula coached a woman through labor. Like he’d talked her through hundreds of problems growing up.

And, because meds had lowered her resistance, she’d let him.

“I’m not really up for visitors, Nolan.”

“How’s it going, Airman Briggs?” Ignoring her, Dr. Riviera walked to the door and extended his hand. “Nice job on the bridge. Got all the children off safely, I hear.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Nolan shook Riviera’s hand.

“Rumor has it you might be leaving soon?” Riviera said.

Mandy looked up. What? Leaving? What?

Nolan’s jaw tensed. “Maybe.”

“How soon?”

“In a few months unless plan D works.”

Plan D? If they’d gone through plans A, B and C, that wasn’t good, right? Why would he be leaving? She’d asked Cole about the PJs and he’d informed them the pararescue team was stationed in Refuge since it sat on the edge of Eagle Point Air Base.

“I hope it does. I hate to see you go,” Riviera said.

“Yeah. Me, too.” Nolan faced Mandy. He marched in like a warrior on a mission. “Look, we need to talk. Besides, you could use a distraction for when they treat those injuries.” He nodded at her wrist, elevated and wrapped in ice.

True. She did.

She eyed Dr. Riviera. His head lowered the way it did when he administered verbal pop quizzes to residents. “And I could use his help. Bailey bailed on me.”

She couldn’t very well make herself out to look like a hag in front of the head of her medical department, now could she?

Mandy gritted her teeth and nodded toward a chair near where the anesthetist readied equipment. “Come on in then, Nolan.” Get this over with and leave.

Since you’re so good at it.

“Thanks.” He didn’t take the chair. He took the spot right beside her and leaned against the exam table.

Dr. Riviera approached with a fresh hand splint. “Nurses are stretched beyond human limit. So I’m going to have Airman Briggs, who is essentially a paramedic, assist me. You okay with that, Dr. Manchester? It’ll be good training.”

For what, emotional torture?

What could she do except nod?

Dr. Riviera’s pager went off. He peered at it. “Be right back.” He slipped from the room. She could have sworn she saw the hint of a smile as he went out the door, too. The anesthesiologist followed.

Utter conspiracy.

Putrid doctors.

Nolan rested a hand on her elbow. She tried not to flinch. Hated that she could feel his breath against her neck and hair as he leaned over. “Look, I’m sorry about that. I just wanted a chance to talk. Didn’t know he was going to draft me into helping with your procedures. You okay with that?”

Mandy held his gaze as long as she could without being rattled. And knew she couldn’t be a ninny about this. She stood from the table and walked across the room. “I trust you, Nolan. At least medically. I saw what you did on that bridge.”

The amazing things.

Someone knocked. “Miss Manchester?”

“Yes?”

“Officer Stallings. I have something you might need.”

“Please come in.”

The striking officer stepped around the corner with a dashing grin and her purse.

“Oh! You found it. Thank you!”

He handed it over with a little nod of his head. Man, did he have dimples-to-die-for or what? Yet he paled in comparison to Nolan. At least in her estimation. “Best contact your insurance company about your car as soon as possible, ma’am.”

Sweet southern manners and a delightful drawl to boot. She took the purse. “I will. Thank you.”

“Bye, now.” He tipped his hat and turned to go. “Briggs.” The officer nodded at Nolan on his way out.

Nolan gave a stiff nod back. “Stallings.”

“That came out terse,” Mandy said after the officer left.

“What?”

She puffed out her chest and tilted her chin in exaggerated motions. Then lowered her voice to majorly male octaves. “‘Briggs.’ ‘Stallings.’”

Nolan’s eyes smiled. “You’re imagining things.” His arms crossed, causing a heap of muscles to strain against his shirt. It couldn’t hide the massive chest. Concrete arms. Flat stomach. Not an ounce of fat anywhere.

She swayed away before admiration at how hard he must have worked to get himself to this place of extreme physical fortitude could cart her away.

Fighting adoration, she sniffed. “He’s cute.” Though not as cute as you.

“Who? Stallings?” Nolan’s arms lowered to his sides. But his hands were fisted, she noticed.