Page 37 of One Last Storm
Shep chuckled. “Fair enough.”
“I’m always a phone call away.” He took another sip of coffee. “Oh, this stuff really is terrible.”
Caspian chose that moment to abandon his post beside Shep and pad over to the hospital door. A soft whine escaped his throat, barely audible but somehow urgent.
“Me thinks Dawson might have a new friend.”
“I can’t take him with me,” Shep said.
Moose headed into the room. London sat on the other side of the bed, her eyes widening as Caspian came in with Moose.
Oops.
But maybe not a terrible idea because the dog walked over to the bed, put his head on it. Whined just a little, like he cared.
Dawson looked rough. He lay in the bed, still on oxygen, and pain fluids dripping through an IV into his arm, his leg encased in a thick air cast.
“Hey there, sleeping beauty.” Moose stepped to the opposite side of the bed, gave a nod to London. “Heard you threw yourself in front of a bullet.”
“Not advised.” Dawson made a face. “But…”
“But he’s a hero. Saved a little girl?—”
“She’s on life-support, according to Flynn,” Dawson said.
“Yes, but we’re all praying she makes it,” London said, her mouth pinched.
Moose took a guess at what she was talking about, and nodded. “Yeah, well, Dawson always was a hero.”
Dawson looked away, his shoulders rising and falling.
Ho-kay, so they’d deal with that part of the trauma later.
“I’m just glad Flynn’s okay.” The words came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.
He’d need to get the story from Flynn.
“She’s fine,” London said. “More than fine, actually. She’s been here most of the night, only left about an hour ago to grab some real food. Hospital coffee was starting to affect her judgment.”
“So, what happened to the leg?”
“Bullet did some creative remodeling of my knee joint. Surgeons had to get inventive with titanium and pins.” Dawson looked back at him. “Good news is I get to keep it. Bad news is I’ll be setting off metal detectors for the foreseeable future.”
“Could have been worse.” London said. “Much worse.”
Moose watched Caspian claim more real estate on the bed, somehow managing to get his front paws up beside his head. “But it wasn’t. And this fellow seems to think you’re worth keeping around.”
Caspian’s tail beat a more enthusiastic rhythm against the sheets.
“I think he’s got the right idea,” London said. “Dog’s got excellent taste in humans. You should probably keep him.”
“I’m not exactly set up for pet ownership.” But Dawson reached down and patted the dog’s head.
More tail thumping.
“Details.” Moose said. “Looks like the decision’s been made. Some partnerships just happen, whether you plan for them or not.”
Dawson rolled his eyes.
