Page 30 of Sworn to Protect

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.”

I chuckle as the boys disappear into the crowd. “I take it you don’t share their enthusiasm?”

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s not that. I just…” She hesitates as she chews her bottom lip.

“You’re worried about the schedule,” I say, finishing for her.

Her shoulders slump. “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I feel bad complaining, but Liam has practice three times a week and games on Saturdays. One of the practices overlaps with my clinical, and I can’t ask Sandy to run him everywhere. How am I supposed to study, make it to my clinical, and keep up with Nick?”

Her voice cracks on the last word, and I feel that familiar tug in my chest. The one that makes me want to fix everything for her.

And my reasoning for staying now has a purpose. This womanwill be my downfall, but for some reason, it’s one downhill trip I don’t mind taking.

“And you said your mom doesn’t come home for another few weeks?”

“Oh, there’s been a change of plans. They’ll be back next week.”

As fast as it came, that small pocket of hope deflated. I force a smile. “You’ll get some help then, right?”

“Not really.” Her face scrunches as if she’s in pain. “My stepdad broke his hip. They’ll be back, but Mom won’t be free. She’ll have to take care of Stan. It’s good that my brother came home when he did, so he’ll be able to help them since he’s staying there.” Under her breath, she adds, “If he doesn’t bail.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, my stomach tightening with an old, familiar knot. “Did they pin the hip, or was it more invasive?”

Her brow furrows, curiosity flickering behind her eyes. “That’s… specific. Most people just ask if he had surgery. But yeah, they pinned it.”

I nod, forcing my hand to stay at my side instead of brushing my wrist like I usually do during rounds. “Good. Make sure he doesn’t slack on his therapy when he’s home. The last thing you want is him throwing an embolism.”

Her eyebrows rise. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”

I give her a tight smile. This charade is getting old. “You could say I’ve seen my share of cases. How’s Stan doing otherwise?”

“I think okay. Stan seemed in good spirits the last time I talked to him. My mother, though. She’s a basket case.”

“I bet. You know, I’m here to help.” I don’t know how long I can go without telling her the truth.

She hesitates, which is a pattern with her. At first, I took her denial personally, but I believe it’s more her nature than anything to do with me. There are two types of people in this world—givers and takers. Mackenzie is a giver. She hates asking for help.

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Mackenzie, you’re not asking. I’moffering.”

“Why?”

The question catches me off guard. Why? Because I can’t stop myself. Because I’m falling for her, even though I shouldn’t.

“Why not?” I shrug. “I’m not working right now. Besides, it’ll keep me busy.”

She studies me for a long moment as if trying to figure me out. Finally, she nods, the corners of her mouth lifting in a small, grateful smile. “You’re a godsend, you know that?”

If only she knew.

Her ringless finger catches my attention when she scratches her forehead and makes my stomach tighten. She’s not wearing her wedding band anymore.

I try to focus on the conversation, but my mind keeps circling back to that empty space on her hand. Has she moved on?

I step back, needing to put some distance between us. “Well, I better get going. I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

Her smile deepens. “I’ll be there waiting.”

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