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“Bullshit.” He’s downplaying it and it’s pissing me off. “Is that why you limp?”
Mateo stares at me, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t limp.”
“The first couple steps after you stand up, you do.” I argue, meeting his gaze. “Nurse,” I say, pointing at myself. “I don’t miss much.”
He shrugs, his lips pulling to the side like he’s not sure he wants to tell me. After a long pause, he gives in. “I got shot in the knee during an extraction. It was supposed to be simple, at least by our standards. But everything went sideways.” He shakes his head and rolls his eyes like he’s annoyed. “My team got me out but it was ugly. One piece of bad intel and my career was over. Surgery repaired a lot of the damage but it’s never going to be the same.” He holds out his thumb and forefinger, with just a sliver of light showing between them. “It was just bad enough to make me a liability to my team. Even if they’d let me continue in the SEALs, I would have left.”
Mateo sits back in his chair, watching me, waiting for a reaction. If there’s one thing I know from working with my patients, it’s that most people hate sympathy. Empathy, fine, but never pity.
“That fucking sucks,” I say, leaning back in my chair and meeting his eyes.
“Yeah.” He looks relieved as he claps his hands together. “So what’s the plan for today?”
“Well, I thought I might go for a run. After that… I dunno. We hit the high notes of Marky Mark’s career yesterday. Matt Damon today?”
“No run,” Mateo grunts.
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because I don’t trust that psycho not to stalk you and run you down with his car. I’d go with you, but that would leave Dad here alone. And I don’t trust that psycho not to burn the house down.”
Well, shit. I hadn’t considered any of those possibilities, but now that he’s said it out loud, I’m feeling a lot less like going out for a run.
“Okay. Yoga at home andThe Bourne Identityit is.”
12
Mateo
After breakfast, Julia gets Dad his meds. I grab the deck of cards from my bag, tapping them against my palm as I lean in the door frame. She hands him the pills and a glass of water, waiting dutifully while he takes them. I can see why she’s such an excellent nurse. Sure, she’s sweet with my dad right now, but if he gave her one ounce of grief, I know she’d shut that shit down so hard.
“I’ll get you a refill,” she says, taking the glass and scooting past me to the kitchen. I plop down on the end of his bed, holding up the cards.
“You in the mood to get your ass kicked?” I ask.
Dad huffs dramatically as Julia re-enters the room with a full glass of water. “Do you see the way he talks to me?” he asks her, waving a hand in my direction. Julia grins at him, shaking her head like she can’t believe it either.
“Disgraceful. You really should have raised him better. Up.” He chuckles as she pats him on the shoulder, helping him sit up so she can fluff his pillows.
She glances at me, watching for a second as I shuffle the cards.
“I’m going to go read for a bit. Parker gets salty if I show up for book club without finishing the book.”
“Isn’t reading it the point of a book club?”
She makes a scoffing sound in her throat. “No, the point is to get drunk on red wine and fight with Chelsea on the finer points of how the firemen use their hose.”
I laugh as Dad groans, covering his ears. “I did not hear that.”
Julia smirks at me as she leaves the room. I watch her shut the door before turning back to my dad, dealing each of us five cards, face down.
He picks them up, arranging them in his hand, and rubbing his chin dramatically. He discards two of them, replacing them with cards off the top of the deck. I discard a three of hearts and a jack of spades, keeping a seven, eight, and ten of diamonds. I pick up the nine and four of diamonds, giving me a flush. I’ll take that any day.
Dad grins at me over his cards. “Look at that poker face. You’re so serious.”
“And you’re deflecting since you're not capable of keeping a straight face.”
He laughs. “Like you don’t have a tell.”
