Page 38 of Mountain Summons

The first two days after the crash were some of the strangest of Tristan’s life.

Physically, he felt like shit—weak, sore, and constantly hovering on the edge of exhaustion. The doctors told him it was normal after a liver laceration. That he’d been lucky they hadn’t had to remove part of his liver.

He napped a lot. The hospital had a way of distorting time, stretching hours into long, hazy loops of painkillers, discomfort, and exhaustion. Everything outside these walls felt distant, like it belonged to another reality, one that had nothing to do with IV drips, steady heart monitor beeps, and the dull ache in his side that flared up if he so much as breathed too hard.

But the most surreal part?

Lena was there.

Always there.

Mostly, when he woke up, she was sitting in the armchair by the window, curled up in a position that couldn’t possibly be comfortable, reading a book, or typing away on her phone, or just watching him with those bright, hazel eyes. Other times, he woke up to find her dozing lightly in the chair beside his bed, her head leaning slightly forward, as if she’d meant to stay awake but had lost the battle.

A couple of times, it was one of his teammates sitting on the chair instead. He knew that meant they’d managed to convince Lena to go home to eat, shower, or take a nap. But she always came back. And that fact—that crazy, impossible fact—allowed him to relax in a way nothing else could have.

When he was awake, they talked. Or rather, she talked. She told him things about herself, about her work, about her childhood. She told him about her mother, who’d passed away. Blame it on the medication, but the more he learned of her, the more he wanted to know about her.

Tristan learned of things happening outside in pieces, here and there. Alex was discharged from the hospital with strict instructions to take the week off. Not that Alex would listen, but Tristan knew Yvette would keep an eye out and make sure he didn’t overdo things. Lorenz had gotten lucky. His doctors had confirmed he wouldn’t need surgery on his wrist—just the cast, rest, and some light rehab down the line.

When Beau showed up on the second evening, Lena excused herself and left the room to go get herself some dinner. Beau dropped into the armchair like he belonged there, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“The colonel’s not happy,” Beau said, voice dry.

Tristan snorted, eyes still half-lidded from everything they’d been pumping into his body. “No shit.”

He already knew the mechanics had retrieved the helicopter from the crash site. It turned out a bird had indeed slammedinto the rotor assembly at the worst possible moment. A freak accident. Tristan was relieved, of course, to find it hadn’t been his fault. Mostly, he was relieved his teammates were okay. He knew better than anyone else how close they’d come to a very different outcome. One that didn’t bear thinking about.

“Officially, they’re calling it a mechanical failure due to a freak accident,” Beau continued. “Unofficially, the brass is not thrilled that one of our best pilots just crash-landed and wound up in the hospital.”

“Tell them I’ll try harder next time,” Tristan muttered. Then he sobered. “I don’t think the helicopter’s what the colonel’s worried about, though.”

There was something careful in Beau’s expression now. “No, I don’t imagine it is. I was there in the waiting room when his daughter told him that she was staying here with you.”

Tristan’s stomach dropped.

Beau sighed. “That was right before she told him to mind his own business.”

Shit.

“That doesn’t bode well for my career at the PGHM, does it?” The thought of losing his job made his stomach twist. He didn’t think the colonel would do that, but …

Beau shook his head. “Step by step. Let’s focus on getting you healthy first, Tristan, and worry about other things afterwards.”

They spoke a while longer, and then Hugo came in. That was a surprise. Hugo had been in the hospital with a life-threatening injury not so long ago. It couldn’t be easy for him to come back to a hospital, even as a visitor.

“How are you feeling, man?”

“Better,” Tristan said. “Thanks for coming. How’s Jo? How’s the baby?” Hugo’s wife—whom he’d originally married to help her out with a problem she was having, in a marriage that had quickly become very real—was pregnant with a baby girl.

Hugo’s entire face softened, transforming into that quiet, content look he only ever got when talking about his wife and their unborn daughter.

“She’s doing great. We’re both looking forward to Christmas. To finally meeting Rébé.”

“I’ll bet you are,” Beau said, laughing.

Not long after, Lena walked back in. Beau and Hugo exchanged a quick look, then both stood. “That’s our cue to get out of here. We’ll be back to see you tomorrow.”

“I’m hoping to be out of here by then,” Tristan grumbled.

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