Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Yeah. I get that. It’s just hard to let go.” Mark rearranged them so that he was the one spooning Isaiah, burying his face in Isaiah’s hair. “Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime,” Isaiah said and meant it. “Whatever I can do help.”
“This. This helps. Knowing you’re here. Getting to come home to you. I’m so fucking lucky.” Mark shuddered again.
And no way could Isaiah bring up the house details right now. Not with Mark so vulnerable. Not when Mark said he needed to come home to Isaiah. Said he was lucky. How could Isaiah push him to make a decision about the house right then? He needed Isaiah. What Isaiah needed could wait. He’d just work on his plans on his own until Mark was more able to have the hard conversations.
* * *
“Okay. That’s good news.” Mark breathed a sigh of relief into his phone as the nurse at the hospital gave him the latest update on the candidate who’d nearly drowned, Swenson. Because of course it had been Swenson, the one who’d pushed through so many minor injuries, tried so hard to stay in. And now he was looking at a medical discharge from BUD/S. He’d have a chance to try again with the next class, if he resumed his strength. If he wanted to. Hell, the guy was lucky just to have brain function back. Who was to say he’d want to give it another go?
Fuck. Fuck. Every time he thought about how things had gone all FUBAR, he wanted to hurl. They’d almost lost Swenson. And it would have been on Mark. Oh, Isaiah and everyone else could say it wasn’t his fault. But he was the instructor. Keeping his recruits safe was job number one.
“Is he doing better?” Isaiah asked as Mark hung up the call. Mark had a very rare forty-eight hours off, his last rest before the Hell Week push. He’d accompanied Isaiah to the big home and garden superstore out in National City on the mainland in part to help him load up the SUV and in part to spend time together, something they’d been really short on lately.
“Yeah. Vital signs are good. It’ll take some time, though.” Mark didn’t really want to talk about Swenson in the middle of the store, about how afraid he’d been that they were about to lose him. Those things were hard enough to talk about in the dead of night, holding Isaiah close as a buffer against the emotions that threatened to swamp him. Leaving Isaiah with Liam, who was happily riding in the orange truck cart, he strolled over to a display of plants. They were some sort of flowering cacti, the sort of low-water plants Isaiah was drawn to in his designs. “Would these look good in the raised beds out front at the house?”
“Maybe.” Isaiah’s arch look said he knew perfectly well that Mark was trying to change the subject. He pushed the cart closer to Mark. “And actually, we need to talk about the house.”
Oh fuck. Maybe Mark wanted to go back to talking about Swenson after all. “What about it?”
“Are you close to putting it on the market? They say summer’s the best time to sell, but you’ll probably sell fast regardless. And if it’s about to go on the market, we probably don’t want to overload the beds. You want a clean look for buyers.” Isaiah’s tone was guarded, eyes distant.
“I don’t know.” Mark did not want to think ahead right then. Finances were complicated shit, and he was pulling such long hours on duty he hadn’t had much time to check in on how the law firm was coming on probate, see what else he needed to do. “Why?”
“I need to come up with a plan. See if I’m going to have to move soon...”
Oh hell no. Isaiah wasn’t moving anywhere. Mark simply couldn’t handle that right now. “Not any time soon,” he growled.
“I might need—” Isaiah started but they were both interrupted by a voice calling Mark’s name down the long aisle.
“Wizard!” Rogers’s gravelly voice called a second time. He was driving one of the motorized carts, crutches in the basket his wife was pushing behind him. He had a full beard now, and his hair was longer. Last Mark had heard he was involved in a grueling rehab program for the leg. “Whatcha up to? I heard you’ve got an instructor gig right now. Shame about your sister.”
Yes, even the crankiest guy on Mark’s team could express sympathy. Chest suddenly too full, Mark nodded tightly. “BUD/S is going okay. Lots of guys ringing out.”
“You’ll get ’em in shape.”
“Darn right.” Mark nodded at him. He wasn’t about to air his doubts with Rogers.
Rogers motioned his wife forward. “Honey, this is Wizard. Think you guys met once or twice before. But this is the one I was telling you about. The medic who saved my life.”