Page 141 of Now and Then

29

Hunter

Iwas finally discharged from the hospital with detailed wound care instructions, an appointment for ortho, and reminders to keep my burns clean and dry.

The good news? My break didn’t require surgery. The bad? I’m stuck in a cast for six weeks.

It’s been three weeks since the accident at the warehouse. Three weeks of pure torture not being able to do much of anything except rest. Even Thanksgiving, normally a big deal, came and went quietly this year, Sutton insisting I stay planted on the couch while everyone cooked.

Chief’s got me on light duty until January, so I’m allowed to do almost nothing, which means I’m chained to a desk like some kind of intern, typing reports one-handed, reviewing case files, and pretending not to notice the way everyone hovers too long when they pass my office. I know they mean well. Doesn’t make it any less irritating.

The only good thing about recovery is Sutton. Most days, she brings me lunch. Not because I need it but because she wants to check on me. She’ll deny it if I say it out loud. But the way she watches me, fusses over my bandages, adjusts pillows, and even helps with wound care? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love every second of it.

Today, though, it’s not Sutton who steps into my office.

It’s Navy.

She leans against the doorframe with a to-go cup and takeout in hand, eyebrows raised. “You look like a sad golden retriever forced into a kennel.”

“Hello to you too.”

“Sutton sent me with your lunch.” She places the food on my desk and stares at me like she can see right through my cast and my fatigue. “You doing okay?”

I groan. “I’ll be happy when everyone stops asking me that.”

She laughs. “Fat chance. You’re the wounded hero. People are gonna hover.” She plops down into a chair, leaning forward in that way that guarantees she won’t leave until I truly answer.

“I’m as okay as a guy stuck doing paperwork can be.”

She hums, unconvinced. “Sutton said you’d say something like that.”

Of course she did. “Tell my wonderful girlfriend I’m fine.” I sip the coffee Navy brought me, sweetened to perfection with gingerbread syrup. It’s like Christmas in a cup, and I’m man enough to admit it improves my mood by at least 10 percent.

My phone buzzes on my desk.

Chris: It’s about to go down. Will text when it’s over.

I run my hand across my jaw, releasing a breath.

Shortly after the fire, traffic-cam footage showed the drug crew fleeing east toward Eagle Falls. When Jack and Bill Daley caught wind of the fire, they became a lot more forthcoming with the information they had. Jack even confessed to using a burner cell to text me that night.

With their help, we figured out where the crew had gone—an abandoned rail yard near the old highway outside Eagle Falls. Chris and I have been in frequent contact with Logan and his SWAT team to make sure these guys can’t get away again.

The shitty thing is I can’t even be there today for the raid itself because of my damn arm.

Navy nods toward my phone. “Was that some kind of secret police message?”

“No,” I laugh, “it’s not a secret police message.” I lean back in my chair, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Where’s Sutton today?”

“Deep cleaning your place for the open house.”

“I keep forgetting about that.” I blow out a breath. “I told her we could hire professional cleaners.”

“That’s Sutton for you.” Navy’s jaw tightens as she stands. She leans against the doorframe, shifting her weight, then crossing her arms.

“I feel like you didn’t just come here to bring me lunch.”

Navy studies me for a long time. When she speaks, her voice is quieter. “I just want to make sure you understand what you’re signing up for.”