Rylan held up both hands, all fingers crossed, and thumbs twined together for good measure.
Laughing, Cochran left the room without another word.
After he’d gone, Rylan wondered if he’d be subjected to these types of inquiries forever. He hadn’t had a nightmare in almost six months. The last hadn’t even been about crashing his helicopter, it had been a car wreck involving him, Jake, and Renee. He was sure a psychologist would have a field day working out what that meant.
He’d never been diagnosed with PTSD, and from everything he’d read, he didn’t have it. Hopefully, everyone would stop looking at him like he could still suffer from it after he hit the two-year mark on his crash anniversary. That was only a few months away. Sometimes it felt like it happened yesterday, and others, like today, it seemed a lifetime ago that his chopper had been shot down.
Glancing around he took note of the others working out. It wasn’t like he was the only one who exercised every shift. They all did it. There wasn’t much to do between calls. Besides, exerting some energy kept them alert, ready for when the alarm sounded. Twenty-four hours dragged when you had nothing to do.
Those that weren’t getting in a workout now were either in the common room watching TV or reading or some other hobby they could bring to base with them. Hell, Jack knitted! Ry had to admit the guy was pretty good at it too. In fact, there was a bidding war for the sweater Jack was currently working on.
If people weren’t in the common room, they’d be in the kitchen. It was Mazey’s night to cook, and the aromas of whatever she made usually drew a crowd. Rumor had it tonight there was pie.
Which is what had prompted Rylan’s workout. He planned to have two pieces at the minimum. At this rate, he would be the size of a house. It had been four days since he’d seen her. She and Alyssa had switched out shifts, so on Monday when he’d shown up to work hoping to see Mazey, he’d ended up working with Alyssa instead.
Four days since Mazey had shoved him out her door after he’d made her Sunday brunch with an apple pie in his hands.
He’d seen the pie for what it was.
A bribe and an apology.
Not that he’d needed either.
He didn’t plan to tell anyone she’d been sick, and he’d taken care of her, and she had nothing to be sorry for. She wasn’t the first or the last to get in that condition, and as far as he was concerned, friends took care of friends.
“Hey!” Bex stuck her head through the doorway. “Dinner’s up.”
You’d think someone had sounded the call alarm the way the room emptied. He shook his head. One thing they had all learned in the weeks since Mazey had joined the team was you didn’t muck around when she called dinner. If you did, there was a good chance you’d miss out.
The woman could cook. Well enough that they never ordered takeout when it was her turn.
She usually prepped whatever she’d planned at home, so from the minute she arrived at the base, tantalizing aromas made mouths water and stomachs grumble.
When he got to the kitchen, there was some good-natured jostling going on between Bex and Jack. She pulled rank on him and grabbed the plate they were fighting over.
“Here.” Rylan turned to find Mazey beside him, a plate in each hand. “I dished up some for you before calling everyone in. I know it’s your favorite.”
He looked at the large slice of lasagna on the plate in her left hand and gave her a big grin. “Thanks.”
She gave him a smile he couldn’t interpret then whispered, “I hid two slices of the apple pie I brought for dessert.”
Grinning wider, he took the offered plate and nodded. He wanted to follow her to the table, sit beside her, except he had to take her avoidance of him for the last few days into account. She’d offered him an olive branch in the dished-up meal and secreted away pie, but he couldn’t be sure they were back to the relaxed friendship they’d had before he’d put her in the shower Saturday night.
Instead of sitting by Mazey, he headed to the other end of the table and sat with Bex and Jack. They were still fighting. This time over the parmesan cheese. Because he couldn’t help it, he waited for a beat, then darted his hand over and grabbed the container away from them.
“Hey!” Bex frowned at him.
“Children. No squabbling at the table,” he reprimanded.
Mazey, Devon, and Tate chuckled, and Rylan shot them a grin. When Mazey smiled back, he took it as a good sign. Maybe she’d felt a little awkward after Saturday night and Sunday morning, and that’s why she’d avoided him. God knows he hadn’t been sure how to handle the event. He still wasn’t positive the interaction hadn’t ruined the friendship they had been building.
Rylan let the conversation flow around him while they ate. He added a word here and there, but for the most part, he enjoyed not only the delicious meal but also the relaxed relationships between his colleagues. They were a tight group due to spending twenty-four hours together every three days. There were six teams of three plus a few casual employees for times when they were stretched for manpower, but in general, the same two teams worked the same shift every time.
Mercy-Life was a relatively small operation with just the two choppers and one plane. They weren’t the only medevac company in the area, there was also High-Life. Similar in size and function, although according to everyone employed here, nowhere near as good as Mercy.
Rylan had met a few of High-Life’s employees and had to admit they appeared to be a cocky bunch. He’d heard their pilots liked to showboat in the air too. He was glad he’d ended up here when he’d applied for jobs all over the country. It could have gone either way. There had been an opening at both places when he’d sent out his resume, it was just lucky Mercy-Life got in with an offer first.
“Hey, Maz, I cleaned my whole plate.” Jack held up a plate that looked licked clean. “Can I have pie now?” he asked with an exaggerated grin.
