Page 62 of The Geography of Happiness

Spencer gave a slow blink, turning his hand in mine and threading our fingers together. “At the risk of sounding patronising, I get that it’s a difficult choice for any parent, deciding when to take a step back—” His gaze bored gently into mine, letting me know he’d truly heard me. “—but especially in your unique situation. I don’t envy you, Terry.”

I sighed and looked to where our hands lay joined on the covers—mine pale and smooth, Spencer’s weathered and scarred. My thumb grazed his knuckles. “But I know I can’t hold her back, either,” I admitted. “That would probably be much worse, at least for our relationship.” I looked up and almost broke at the worry in his eyes. “Not knowing what to do about next year is killing me, so I can’t imagine what it’s doing to Hannah. What if I make the wrong decision? How would I ever forgive myself?”

With the first tear that rolled down my cheek, Spencer was out of his seat and around my side of the bed, pulling me into his arms. He wrapped me so tight against his chest that I could feel his heart hammering against my own.

“I don’t have any answers for you, you know that.” His lips moved against my hair, the heat of his body against mine oddly calming. “All I can say is that you have to trust yourself. You know your daughter, Terry. You know yourself. You know the risks and the opportunities. You’re the expert in all this. No one else. And you’ll figure out the best solution. I don’t have to know you very well to see that you’re a great dad. And don’t forget, nobody’s perfect. Not you. Not me. Not Zach. Not Hannah.No one.You’re allowed to make mistakes, and so is she. You can only protect her so much and yourself as well. Otherwise, how will she learn to trust herself?”

I sighed against his chest. It was the perfect fucking answer.

I stepped back and studied his face—the smooth line of his nose, those chocolate eyes, the weathered creases at the cornersof his mouth, his rough stubble, and those tempting lips. “That’s an impressive line of bullshit you have going there, Mister Veterinarian. Do you practise in front of a mirror?”

He grinned like a fool. “Every day. Did it work?”

I waggled a hand. “I was kind of hoping for an actual solution.”

He chuckled and pulled me against him. “Yeah, right. Like that was ever gonna happen. I have every faith that you’ll get there on your own.”

“I’m glad someone has,” I murmured, letting myself be reassured, the strangeness of it still a surprise.You’re getting soft. Warning bells rang in my head.Don’t get used to it.He’s not staying around.I did my best to ignore the voices. I’d be leaving this place soon enough. Until then, I could stand a little looking after for a change.

We were still embracing when the door opened and a way-too-young-to-be-a-doctor man, sporting a blue mohawk, ear gauges, and a white coat, strolled into the room. His eyebrows popped when he saw us standing locked in each other’s arms, but he made no comment as we disentangled.

“Spencer, nice to see you again.” The man shot Spencer an inquisitive look and offered his hand. “And a bit of a surprise, if I’m honest.”

“Hey, Bradley.” Spencer shook the man’s hand. “Terry here is a... friend.”

“Is that so?” Bradley held Spencer’s gaze for a moment, then turned and offered his hand to me. “I’m Bradley Dalton, Hannah’s doctor. You must be her father, Terry. How’s she doing?”

I was still picking my jaw up off the floor but managed to shake the poor guy’s hand. This was Hannah’s doctor? I turned bug-eyes on Spencer.What the actual fuck?

Spencer leaned in and whispered. “Be nice. He’s older than he looks and he’s very good.”

Bradley’s mouth tipped up in a sunny smile. “Yeah, what he says.”

Hannah’s eyes flickered open and she beamed. “Bradley!”

“Hey, munchkin.” The doctor made his way to Hannah’s side. “So, let’s see if we can clean you up and get you out of here.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Spencer

Once Terry realisedthat Bradley was, in fact, much older than he lookedanda skilled ER specialist to boot, his hackles settled and the two men got along famously. Too famously, if you wanted my opinion, which apparently neither of them did as they chatted and laughed while Bradly worked.

That embarrassing fact aside, Shona had been right. Cleaned and sutured, the cut above Hannah’s eyebrow proved to be small and discreet. A minimal dressing covered the worst, although the black eye was going to be a doozy, just as I’d thought.

Completing another top-to-toe examination, Bradley announced he was happy enough for Hannah to be discharged, as long as it was to my place and not Miller Station, in case things went south. He also wanted her back at the clinic at ten thirty the next morning for a final check.

He handed Terry a list of instructions for Hannah’s concussion, which included waking her a few times during the night to check for confusion, nausea, and the like. If she deteriorated, she was to be taken straight back to the medical centre. She wasn’t to try and walk on her own until she feltbetter, but she could eat and drink what she liked unless she felt unwell.

Bradley added that he supposed me being a vet could be advantageous or at least a step up from no medical oversight at all, a joke that Terry and Hannah both found hilarious. I skewered them with a death glare, which only made them laugh harder, not that I cared. If me being mocked put a smile on that little girl’s face, I was all in.

Terry’s daughter had been a... surprise. At fourteen, Hannah had it all over my brothers at that age in terms of maturity. With a dry wit, her father’s stunning blue eyes, and a level of self-awareness and confidence that frankly astounded me, it was hard not to fall for her.

When Bradley was done, Terry placed a call to his parents and then Zach to bring them up to speed. Zach offered to take Terry and Hannah to the medical centre for their appointment with Bradley, but there was no way that was happening on my watch.

“Call him back and tell him I’ll do it,” I protested. “Afterward, I’ll take you back to the station.”

Terry looked up from pocketing his phone. “Don’t you have to work?”

---