Page 140 of Jonesing for a Spy

“Only if you want me to call you Bootsy.” Her eyebrows lift in a silent challenge.

Scrubbing a hand down my face, I offer, “June it is. I supposed it could be worse, even if I don’t know how. Bootsy is…”

“Bootsy is a gift from Harry. It means you’re in the family. Take it for what it is.”

I nod and down the last half of my bottle of water, standing to take my trash to the can in the corner.

I’m returning to my seat when Jamie pushes through the double doors, eyes scanning the room. “Strider, Mirren’s asking for you before they prep her.”

My eyes hit June’s and then bounce between her and Jamie.

“Come sit, son,” are the words that hit me as I head down the long hall.

Mirren lies in a hospital bed, just as I left her. Except for additional tubes and cords, and more equipment around her. It socks me in the gut, though I knew to expect it.

Before I can take the chair at her side, she pats the covers on her good side. It’s the side with her bruised face, but I can avoid hurting that easier than I can her bum knee.

I look around, hoping we won’t be fussed at and wondering about my filthy clothes, but ultimately say fuck it, shuck my shoes, and climb in. Kissing her softly, I ask what I’ve been afraid to, “Are you scared?”

Her face scrunches, and her eyes slice to slits. “I taste onion and sugar. You ate?” The betrayal on her face hurts, but, frankly, so did the pit of my stomach. That’s my only excuse.

“Your mom made me?”

“Your mom made me.” She feigns a deep voice laced with sarcasm. “That’s what you’re going with?”

“I tried not to, but I was weak.” My body spoons into hers like it was made to fit there.

Because it was.

She softens as my arm tugs her into me. “A little,” she whispers.

“A little weak?” What were we talking about again?

“A little scared.” Her fingers trace patterns on my forearm.

“You’re a badass.” It’s quiet in the hollow room. “You’ll sail through with flying colors.”

“What does that mean?”

I don’t know. What I do know is she’s safe, I’m warm, and have a belly full of carbs.

59

kissing distance

Mirren

The worry is momentary. The surgery is routine. Dr. Tam has stellar credentials; his clientele could afford to go anywhere for the best, and they choose him. But I know the recovery. Been there, done that… I have the scars to prove it.

The numbness in my leg followed by the pain and tingling when that recedes. The physical therapy. Working up to runs. Fighting with stairs.

Regardless, my knee is fucked, and Dr. Tam can make it right. Add to that, he’s willing to consult with my doctors back home, and I couldn’t ask for more.

Strider’s breathing evened out a few minutes ago. His arm is dead weight on my belly. I don’t deserve this man… even if he snuck off to eat while I’m starving. It’s forgivable, but I’ll never let him live it down.

An efficient nurse comes in to tell me I’m next to be taken back for surgery. Exhausted and overwhelmed, I ask for a few minutes and for them to send Mom back.

She arrives as if she’s been waiting for just such an invitation and slides into the room the same way she would an armed vault, with caution and stealth. Her gaze lands on Strider for a long moment before she smiles down at me. “He’s a good man, Mirri. You did well choosing him.”