“I’m fine,” Zee said.
Church gave her a dark look as the residue of his fury began to fade from his eyes. “Let him be the judge of that.”
The medic crouched in front of her and began to check her over. She had cuts along her hands and knees and gravel embedded in her forearm. She hissed when the antiseptic hit herragged flesh, and Church was there the whole time, holding on to her.
His presence was solid, his thigh braced against hers as he watched the medic work on her.
“She’s got some deeper abrasions here,” the medic said. “Nothing that needs stitches, but it’s going to hurt as it heals.”
Church sank beside her and pulled her into his lap. “Clean it out,” he grated.
Zee started to look at what he was doing, but Church cupped her head and pressed her cheek gently down on his chest. She sucked in deep breaths filled with his masculine scent and felt better.
“I’m okay,” she whispered against him and felt him shudder.
The medic finished bandaging her hands, then stood. “Keep these clean. Change the dressings tomorrow. See a doctor if anything hurts more or you start running a fever.”
“Thank you.” She watched the medic walk away, leaving her and Church alone in the moment.
He searched her eyes, his own stormy. “I should’ve gone with you.”
She shook her head. “I needed to do it alone. Scatter Matt’s ashes. It’s done and…it’s done,” she finished, meaning everything that came after.
His gaze burned. “I won’t ever let anything hurt you again.”
She nodded. “I know.”
She believed it too. Not because he said it.
Because of who he was.
Chapter Seventeen
Church stood at the edge of the training yard, arms loose at his sides and his boots planted as he stared out at the training range.
So much had happened since he first set foot on this land. The Malones offered him a place where he could train men to be the best, and he thought he would gain satisfaction from the challenge.
Well, he’d gotten so much more than he bargained for. Pieces that he never knew he wanted in his life were falling into place.
He heard the low scrape of boots and turned his head as Crew stepped up beside him. He rested his hands on his hips and surveyed the stretch of land. “Three days until the first class rolls in.”
“How green do you think they are?”
Crew snorted. “Green as we were once.”
Church huffed. “What we don’t break them of, the mountain will.”
They both tipped their gazes upward to the peak, capped white with fresh snow. In a week they’d take their first excursion up that mountain, running drills with weighted packs.
“Twenty men?”
Crew dipped his head in a nod. “We’ll probably drop at least five in the first few days when they realize they don’t have what it takes.”
“Or don’t want to put in the work.”
They stood in silence, letting that settle.
“Is Fern ready for you to get back to this life?”
