Mari smiled to herself. He was learning to make the transition from battlefield snap decisions to the kind of assessment appropriate in civilian care. She nodded. “Timing?”

“Considering it’s almost seven on a Friday night, if we don’t get it done now, chances are the ortho boys will want to wait until Monday or Tuesday, when the swelling is down and they can get it on the schedule electively.”

“Pros and cons to that?”

Antonelli frowned. He might be shifting his evaluations to the demands of community medicine, but he was probably always going to be a battlefield medic at the core. And he’d learned at the front that the more rapid and aggressive the treatment, the greater the number of soldiers they saved, with the smallest number of complications. Battlefield statistics supported that approach. He would never recommend postponing care. All the same, Mari wanted a medically sound reason for early intervention under the present circumstances.

“Right now, the soft tissue swelling is minimal. The longer they wait to operate, the more swelling there will be and the more difficult the dissection down to the bone. Plus, the patient’s going to be damn uncomfortable if she has to wait for four days until surgery. She’s an otherwise healthy, active fifty-year-old and she’s gonna want to get on the road to rehab as quickly as possible. If they operate tonight, she’ll be in PT by Monday morning. If it was my wife or sister, I’d want surgery tonight. So I say we call and push them to come in and rod it.”

Mari nodded. “I agree.”

From behind them, Glenn said quietly, “So do I.” When Mari swung around with a questioning look, Glenn shrugged. “I happened to notice the films down in X-ray when they were shooting them. Nice work-up, Antonelli.”

“Uh, thanks.” Antonelli shot Mari a look, as if asking if he really deserved all the credit.

Smiling, Mari shook her head, pleased by Glenn’s assessment. Glenn had praised Antonelli, and rightly so, but Glenn knew what Mari’d been trying to teach him, just like Glenn always seemed to know what she was thinking and feeling. Glenn’s professional opinion of her was nearly as important as her personal feelings, but those she could read far less easily. Did Glenn think about their intimate time together as often as she did? Did she lie awake, restless at night, her body humming with the memory of desire? Was she finding it as difficult as Mari to pretend she didn’t want it again?

Mari wished she knew how to ask, or that Glenn really could read her mind.

Antonelli spoke into the silence. “Zapata is on call. I’ll give him a ring. He’s a pretty decent guy and will probably come in with a little prodding.”

“Tell him you’ve already called the OR, per me,” Glenn said, “and that if he’s not available, we’ll get Flann Rivers to do it. That will light a fire under his butt.”

Antonelli chuckled and strode away.

“I thought Flann was off tonight,” Mari said.

“She is. Harper too. A few of us—OR crew mostly—are taking Harper out for a little prenuptial celebration.”

Mari laughed. “You’re kidding. Like a bachelor party?”

“Well, sort of.” Glenn looked sheepish, highly unlike her. “Just tradition, you know.”

Mari didn’t, but enjoyed teasing Glenn. Enjoyed a conversation that had nothing to do with death, dying, or pain. “Will there be dancing girls?”

Glenn hesitated, brows drawn down as if thinking. “Dammit. I knew there was something I forgot to do. I don’t suppose you and Carrie are free?”

“Oh,” Mari said, rolling her eyes, “I never took you for such a big dreamer.”

Glenn’s eyes darkened. “No, neither did I. But you know, nothing ever stays the same.”

Mari swallowed. “I know. Change is scary, though.”

Glenn ran her hand down Mari’s arm and cradled her fingers in her palm. Her thumb swept over the top of Mari’s hand, as swift and light as a kiss.

Mari’s lips instantly tingled as if she had been kissed.

“Not knowing can be scary, I understand that,” Glenn murmured.

“I know you do.” Mari wet her lips, searching and failing to find the words she wanted, but needing to keep the fragile connection alive, if just for another minute. “I was actually going to ask you out to dinner, but I see that you’ve already got much more exciting plans.”

“Hardly more exciting, but I’m designated driver and I can’t back out on them this time.”

“Rain check?” Mari’s heart actually thudded in her ears. She hadn’t thought that possible.

Glenn glanced down the hall, checking they were still alone. Dinner, maybe more. Was that what she wanted? All she wanted? She’d recalled the hours with Mari every night when she tried to sleep, the second she opened her eyes every morning, and every time she saw her in the ER. She’d thought a lot about what Margie Rivers had said to her in the truck too, about strength being the other side of fear. Mari was strong, she had to be to survive what she’d survived, to endure the separation from her family, to face an uncertain future. Glenn respected her for that. She understood the fear that kept Mari from hope too. She understood that war of duty and sacrifice, and she loved her for all of it. In the quiet of the long hours alone, she came to understand herself too. She loved Mari and, for the first time in her life, wasn’t afraid of what that meant. “I learned something this week.”

“What?” Mari whispered.

“Remember I told you I learned to live in the now in the war?”

Mari nodded.

“I didn’t just learn it there. I learned it growing up, when I figured out I had nobody on my side but myself. That making it through one day was a victory, and not looking ahead, not counting on anyone or anything, was the only way to avoid disappointment.”

“I’m so sorry,” Mari murmured.

“That’s okay, it got me through and made me tough. Made me who I am. And I did count on a few people. I counted on my unit, I counted on Flann and Harp and the rest of the Riverses.” Glenn blew out a breath. More than she’d realized. “But you taught me something more.”

Mari’s heart beat in her throat so fast, so full, she wasn’t sure she could speak. “Me? What did I teach you?”

“You taught me that every day, lived to the fullest, is just one link in the chain of forever. That it’s safe to go to sleep and believe in the sunrise. You made me believe that when I open my eyes, everything that matters to me will still be there. I want that to be you, Mari. And I want you to believe that I’ll be there for you.”

“I…I don’t know if I can. Believe.” Mari grabbed Glenn’s hand. “But you make me wish I could.”

Glenn nodded. “I know that too. But you know what? I’m patient, and I’ll wait.”

“That’s not fair. To you, I mean.”

Glenn smiled, a rakish smile that carried no hint of sadness. “No one ever said life was fair, but it is what we make it. What we choose. I choose you, Mari.”

Before Mari could answer, Glenn leaned forward and kissed her, just as she did everything—filled with certainty and strength. Mari gripped her scrub shirt, leaned into her.

Antonelli cleared his throat. “Zapata tried to give me the runaround until I suggested Flann could handle things just as easily as him. He’ll be here in half an hour.”

Glenn took her time stepping back, glanced over her shoulder at Antonelli. “You’re learning.”

Antonelli looked between Mari and Glenn and flashed his lady-killer smile. “Yes, ma’am. I am.”

“Well,” Glenn said, her gaze on Mari. “I’d best head out. Don’t want them to have too much fun without me.”

“You’ll want to see to the dancing girls as well,” Mari said teasingly.

“Oh yes. I won’t forget that.” Glenn took a step, looked back. “Call me, anytime.”

Mari watched her walk away, her heart full and her soul in turmoil. Could she let her go? Did she dare try to keep her?

*

Glenn pulled out of the parking lot just as the sun dropped below the crest of the mountains, painting the road in intersecting patterns of light and shadow. Walking away from Mari was about the hardest thing she’d ever done. She’d wanted to press her for an answer, for some sign that Mari felt what she felt, and knew she couldn’t. Mari needed to come to her of her own free will, in her own time, and all she could do was hope that time would one day come. If it didn’t, well, she wasn’t going to think about that. The need that clawed at her belly was like a hunger, an aching void she couldn’t fill. Living with that need would be torture, had been torture, every day. The only thing that helped was catching a glimpse of Mari, spying that fleeting smile, the lingering look that said Mari was searching for her too in the midst of a busy day. Every time she did, she knew she was right to wait, to hope, saw the road ahead as clearly as she’d ever seen anything in her life. She wanted this woman, this one woman, and whatever it took, as long as it took, she’d do—

The IED exploded right under the belly of her vehicle. The blast deafening, the detonation blinding. She braced automatically, her transport airborne, spinning, tumbling, end over end. She landed with a bone-jarring thud in a scream of metal and shattering glass, her head striking steel, pain lancing down her spine. Through a wash of blood obscuring her vision, she fumbled for her safety harness, finally found the clasp, and once released, tumbled to the ground. The scent of fuel penetrated the copper scent of blood.

No, not ground, still inside, had to get out.

Couldn’t burn. Wouldn’t die in flames.

She crawled, wiping blood from her eyes, peering around for the rest of her unit. Couldn’t find her med kit. Up ahead a Humvee on its side, trailing a glistening line of fuel on the road. Pushed to her feet, staggering, dizzy. Found the door, braced her leg against crumpled metal, felt the edge slice through her BDUs, into her thigh. Ignoring the searing pain, she pulled, strained, finally popped the door. Single occupant, unconscious, strapped in. Couldn’t find her KA-BAR to cut the straps. Worked him free and dragged him up clear, had to stop to vomit, kneeling in the road, the trooper slung over one shoulder. RPGs lit the sky. She staggered for cover, fell again, threw her body over the trooper.