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The rift with Mark still loomed large, court date drawing closer, but the new closeness he had with his family was a blessing he didn’t want to discount. Led by his father, they were a united front, maybe for the first time ever, determined to keep the kids. And little by little, Isaiah was starting to actually believe they might win.
Which was why he groaned aloud when he saw Mark’s car at the house. Hell. He did not want to follow his good day with another confrontation. Didn’t need Mark undercutting his newfound confidence. Or resurrecting his hope.
No, that hope was laid to rest. He’d thought all week about how to broach a conversation with Mark, tell him what was in his heart, what he needed and deserved from him. But ultimately, he’d decided not to. He wasn’t sure he could open himself up to that kind of pain, not when Mark had made it so clear that he wasn’t going to change.
“Hey.” Instead of hiding out in his room like Isaiah had expected, Mark appeared in the driveway walking toward the car. “Help you carry the kids in?”
The petty part of Isaiah wanted to say no. But he wasn’t going to pick a fight in front of the girls, who’d been clamoring to see Mark. “Sure. I guess. You take the girls. It’s almost bedtime.”
“Who wants a story?” Mark asked as he lifted Zoe into his arms and freed Daphne from her booster seat.
“Me! Me!” Two little voices echoed and Isaiah’s stomach soured. Don’t be stupid, he lectured himself. They deserve some Mark time. And they did, even if it made his heart ache, listening to Mark play with them, chasing them through the house.
He took his time getting Liam his nighttime bottle, and when he made his way upstairs, the girls were already in pajamas and Mark was reading, doing his silly voices for elephant and piggy in the story.
This should have been us. This should be them getting the kids ready for bed, then hanging out themselves, reconnecting after a long day. But instead, that dream was dust, and all Isaiah had was bittersweet memories, a glimpse at a future that was never meant to be.
“Ba!” Liam reminded him what he needed to focus on, and Isaiah settled in the rocking chair with him. Usually rocking the baby was soothing, but that night he was too keyed up to enjoy it. Finally, he got the baby settled in the crib and was creeping out of the room when Mark appeared in the doorway.
“Can we talk?”
“Not sure we have much to say.” Isaiah kept his voice down as he followed Mark into the hall.
“I do.” Mark was firm. “Got something to show you.”
“Fine. Downstairs.” Isaiah refused to be curious about what Mark might have. And no way was he inviting him into his bedroom to talk. That place was rife with enough memories as it was.
Mark headed for the family room, which held its own set of memories, and Isaiah had to shake his head, tell visions of their first kiss to take a hike. He deliberately sat at the opposite end of the couch from Mark, leaving a vast swath of leather between them, and still it didn’t feel like enough space.
“Talk,” he ordered. “And make it quick.”
“Okay. You’re angry. I’ve earned that. But see, I’ve been rehearsing this all evening, so you’re going to have to bear with me.” Mark sounded uncharacteristically nervous. And Mark rehearsing words? Despite himself, despite everything, Isaiah was intrigued.
“Go on.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand.
“I’ve never really told you what it’s like out in the field. What it’s like being Wizard.”
“Tell me.” Isaiah’s pulse sped up, same way it had the first time he’d gotten Mark to part with a secret.
“Well, I’m the guy of last resort—I’m the one they yell for when shit’s already gone sideways. When they call for me, I know it’s not good, and that it’s up to me—and only me—to save the day. I’ve pulled out bullets in the middle of a firefight, stitched head wounds in the jungle, re-inflated lungs miles from hospitals. And I know my guys. I know their names. Their stupid jokes. Their families. Their kids. They are my brothers and they’re depending on me. They need me. They would literally die for me, lie down so I could do my job, save someone else on the team.”
“Intense.” Isaiah wasn’t sure what else to say.
“And I have to trust each of them to do their best job so that I can do mine. But when the chips are down, it’s just me and the injury, doing battle with God, and I’m the one who has to tell God not today. And I’m not a wizard. I’m not the larger-than-life medic I idolized when I was a kid. I’m just Mark, trying like hell to not send anyone home in a body bag.”
