“How are you feeling?” Gunner asked after the team filed out.
Discussing meant reliving, and Maverick would just as soon put the mission behind him, focus forward, and let his body heal. “How’s your lung?” he asked.
“Good as new. When do you start physical therapy?”
“I quit PT when I walked out of that facility.”
“Mav—”
Maverick held up his hand. “I appreciate the concern, but no lectures. I was training for an Ironman before that asswipe’s bullets found my body. The sooner I can get back to that, the happier I’ll be.”
Gunner rose. Instead of leaving, he closed the door. Maverick resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Remaining silent, he braced for the healthcare lecture.
After dropping back into the chair, Gunner cleared his throat. “I know it’s short notice, but I’ve got to take Friday off. Brianna and I haven’t had a moment alone since I got back. We’re running the kids to Pennsylvania for a weekend with the grandparents.”
“Take more time if you need it.”
“You’ve got me on the schedule for Monday’s assignment. It’s a local protection gig for Ella Kayson and her exec team at Qualitation. I’m still a ‘go’, unless you’re rotating me out.”
Maverick checked the schedule. “Not rotating you out. We need to get our asses into gear and back out there ASAP.” Maverick rolled the chair back. “Is that it? Are we good?”
Gunner’s jaw ticked. “I’ve got something else to tell you.”
Crap, he’s resigning. “Okay.”
“Dom died.”
Maverick’s chest squeezed and he clutched the arms of the chair. Dom could only mean Dominic Delriccio, their ex-SEAL teammate. “What happened?”
“He was shot during a convenience store robbery. Wrong place, wrong time.”
Pushing out of the chair, Maverick tried reeling in his sadness, but emotion made his throat constrict. “When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Did you make it to the funeral?”
“Yeah. Brianna came with me. I didn’t think I’d need her, but burying Dom was rough. Brought back memories of how close we’d all been, you know?”
Maverick swallowed down the grief. “How’s his family doing?”
“Hanging in. The guys started a fund to help them out.”
“I’ll contribute,” Maverick said.
“I’m sorry to tell you this on your first day back, but I waited long enough. You needed to know.”
“Dammit, he was a good guy. This kills me.”
Rising, Gunner patted him on the back. “I know it does.”
After Gunner closed the door, Maverick shut his eyes, refusing to give in to the mounting sorrow. Losing anyone gutted him. Reminded him of his own loss. He slammed his fist on the table. Not even the throbbing in his hand could distract him from the sadness in his heart.
7
H U D S O N’ S H A P P Y H O U R
A s a matter of course, Carly faced work issues head on. She didn’t shy away from having the tough conversations and, most times, she welcomed problems. For Carly, a victory was a problem she’d overcome.
