Page 26 of Backed By You
Ten.
Beau
WearrivedatWhitetailAnimal Hospital roughly an hour ago, and Callie still refuses to leave until we hear something. When we got here, the technicians took Hulk back straight away for X-rays and quickly found a severe ligament tear in his left hind leg. They whisked him away for emergency surgery and we’ve been sitting here ever since.
“Callie,” I try again, but she isn’t having any of it.
“Stop, please,” she snaps, her eyes red and swollen from crying. “I’m not going until I hear he’s okay. We’ll go, I promise. Just…not yet.”
I lean forward, my hands clasped in front of me with a resigned sigh. After another fifteen minutes of dreaded silence and her refusing to get herself looked at, I opt for a different angle. “When I was shot, I had about a dozen men ready to haul me out of the line of fire.” I shake my head at the memory.“Waylon and Billings were arguing over who was going to escort me back. Fuckin’ idiots.”
Her focus is momentarily diverted when she glances at my knee, then my face. “What happened?”
I sigh heavily, surprised I’ve opened this particular door. It’s not a story I’ve shared since coming home to the States. “I was their team leader. Told them both to shut up and get back into position. We were pinned down, four hostiles still in play. Couldn’t afford to lose two men just to get me to safety.”
She’s watching me now, her emotional pain temporarily pushed aside by curiosity. “So what did you do?”
“Applied my tourniquet. Kept firing.” I shrug. “I made them leave me there.”
Her eyes widen. “By yourself? With a gunshot wound?”
“For about forty-five minutes. Until the area was secure.”
“That’s…insane.”
“That’s what the medic said, too.” I cock a half grin. “By the time I let them haul me out of there, I’d lost a dangerous amount of blood. The bullet had fragmented and traveled, done a real number on my knee. If they’d evacuated me right away, like protocol dictated, the damage might not have been significant enough to warrant a discharge.”
Understanding dawns in her eyes. “But you refused.”
“I was a career soldier. I thought I was making the right call,” I grunt. “Turns out, I was just being stubborn and ended up awarded a medical retirement at thirty-three.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Don’t be. It was a lesson I needed to learn.” I meet her gaze. “Sometimes the bravest thing isn’t pushing through the pain or refusing to leave your post. Sometimes it’s admitting you need help, too.”
She looks away, fresh tears welling in her eyes.
“He is in the best hands possible, Callie,” I say softly, gesturing to her temple where dried blood still cakes her hairline. “You, on the other hand, need stitches. And that ankle needs to be properly examined.”
“But what if…” Her voice breaks. “What if something happens while I’m gone? What if he needs me and I’m not here?”
“Dr. Mason promised to call the second there’s any news,” I remind her gently. “And Hulk’s going to be in recovery for hours. He wouldn’t want you sitting here suffering, would he?”
That gets her. She closes her eyes briefly. “No. He wouldn’t.”
“Let me take you to get patched up. For Hulk.”
“Okay,” she agrees, finally allowing me to help her to her feet.
It’s nearly midnight when we return to the animal hospital. Callie has three neat stitches at her temple, a walking boot on her moderately sprained ankle, and a prescription for mild painkillers that she’ll have to fill in the morning.
“Miss Ryan,” Dr. Mason greets us when we enter, her surgical cap still on. “Perfect timing. We’ve just moved Hulk to recovery.”
“How is he?” Callie asks, breathless.
“The surgery went very well. Complete tear of the cranial cruciate ligament—what we’d call an ACL tear in humans. We performed a TPLO procedure.” At Callie’s confused expression, she explains, “We changed the angle of the top of his tibia so he doesn’t need the ligament for stability anymore. It’s the gold standard for large, active dogs like your Hulk.”
Callie blows out a shaky breath. “Can I see him?” she asks, already moving toward the treatment area.
