Joey sends me a salute and hides in Dr. Zamora’s office as Mac and Mason round the corner.
“Here you are,” Mason says, giving me a big hug.
We chatted on the drive to Denver, and I was so impressed with how hard he’s been working alongside Mackenzie. When he asked what I thought was going on with her brain, I tried to be clear that I wasn’t a neurological expert but told him what I knew. He broke down when he realized her condition was serious. He felt he’d missed something important when he really hadn’t.
“You’re not a mind reader or a doctor, Mason,” I said, patting his shoulder. I shared with him the one time I’d missed a major sign of preeclampsia in my very best friend. Thankfully, Dr. Zamora picked up on the symptoms and sent her directly to the hospital, where she had an emergency C-section. Cassie and her baby survived, but I was devastated to learn I’d missed so many classic signs.
Mason’s been renting out the top floor of my house, which I’d closed off after Dad died. I didn’t want to heat an entire upstairs if no one was using it, but hearing Mason moving around upstairs has been a comfort I didn’t know I needed.
He’s also been updating me on Mac’s progress. While Mason’s frustrated by what appears to be his boss’s combative attitude, I tend to like a patient who is a little uncooperative. If only because it means they have good brain function and are motivated to improve.
He borrowed my truck to pick her up from the rehab facility and now that she’s here, I really hope she likes what I did with the cabin.
Speaking of, Mac hasn’t said anything. I wonder if she’s nervous about how she’ll sound. I send her a hopefully warm smile, taking in her outfit. She’s wearing a baseball cap, a few hardy layers, and all-weather boots. My guess is that unless you knew to look for her, you wouldn’t recognize her.
Realizing I haven’t said anything either, I go for the classic over-explanation.
“Thanks for coming in, y’all. I think I mentioned before that we’re having a bit of a baby boom around here,” I say, gesturing to the wall of baby pictures. “I had to take over office hours for Dr. Zamora because the Jacobs twins came a few days early. I ran out the door so fast, I completely forgot to leave the key at the cabin for you and it’s still on my keychain.”
Yes, start with word vomit, Kin. That’ll get her wet.
Mac, who’s been standing silently behind Mason, shuffles forward, leaning heavily on a cane. She shakes my hand, oddly formal.
“No problem,” she says, her words not quite crisp.
I smile as I hand her the keys, then bite my tongue when they slip from her fingertips. Her jaw tightens, and she looks away while Mason kneels and picks them up for her.
Shit. That was my bad.
I hold up my finger and jog over to the supply room, where we keep the tchotchkes for the office. One of our more popular items is stretchy wristbands with a keychain, helpful for the beleaguered mom or hiker on the go.
Walking back to the desk, I grab the keys from Mason and spin them onto the keychain, slipping it onto Mac’s wrist. Her nose scrunches up, almost like she wants to reject the help, but instead, she dips her chin.
“Thanks.”
Alright. So. All of the awkward and none of the spark.
Actually, less awkward and more…sad. Which totally makes sense.
Most people aren’t super in the mood after a life-changing medical emergency, Kin.
“Hey,” I say, touching her arm. She lifts her eyes to mine, and I examine them, releasing a relieved breath. Her pupils are even and reactive. She’s standing okay, so that’s good. The facial weakness has completely resolved, and her blinking is even. Even her fingers seem to articulate decentishly, so the key thing might’ve been a bit of clumsiness on my part.
“What are you doing?” she asks, stepping back.
“Sorry, old habit. I’m just doing a quick exam.”
“Well, stop it. I didn’t ask you to do that.”
I hold up my hands. “Sorry. Sorry.”
Medical consent is a thing, numbnuts.
“We just need the keys, and we have them now. So, thank you.”
Mason and I exchange a look.
Just a guess here, but when they say that her vocal and articulation therapies aren’t going well, I doubt they’re talking about her actual progress.
