Page 88 of Under Cover
“I hate that you know that about me,” Crosby muttered.
“I’d rather know about your first kiss and first communion,” Garcia told him angrily. “But I’d settle for something that’s trying to kill you in the here and now!”
Crosby blew out a breath and closed his eyes. “I’m still alive,” he muttered. “You are overreacting.”
Garcia was about to show him whatrealoverreacting was all about when Dr. Blodgett did what even Garcia could admit he should have done from the beginning and kicked him out to go make Crosby something to eat.
Garcia was back in ten minutes with a bowl of chicken chowder that he’d gotten from the deli two days before, when he’d had the day off and he’d been missing Crosby something awful. He’d dressed it thick with crackers and walked it in tentatively after he knocked on the door.
Harman was packing up his bag, and he gestured for Garcia to put the soup on the bedstand so he could sit in the chair.
But first he gestured for Garcia to talk to him in the hallway after he set the soup down.
“Anything else I miss?” Garcia grumbled. “Knife wound in his back? Gunshot he forgot to tell us about?”
“A serious reluctance for you to see him incapacitated?” Harm asked acerbically.
Garcia grunted. “I hate that this is what bothers him.”
“Well, it takes time to trust someone when you’re vulnerable,” Harm said, gentleness in his voice. “Trust me, Cl—uhm, my significant other resents that I get to see him so much as sleeping.”
Garcia kept his expression neutral, but behind his mask, he was remembering Harman’s impatience with Harding when he’d brought Crosby in and the way he seemed to know all of the people in the unit personally, like old friends.
Because Harding had told him.
Clint Harding.
Oh God, did Garcia feel stupid.
“You train yourself,” Garcia murmured, “to keep all your emotions far, far away.” That moment in the SUV, with Crosby’s seizing body in his lap would never not haunt him. “You don’t want anybody to know who you are, and then, when you find the one person you don’t mind knowing, you are so… afraid. That they’ll get….” His anger surfaced. “Shot, or stabbed, or poisoned, or beat to death or….” He flailed.
“Or develop a peptic ulcer and bleed out,” Harman added softly. “Yes. All of that. But he’s stronger than you think. And he’s accomplished alotfor someone who isn’t cut out for this. Your team will figure out a plan to finish this quickly.” He gave a quick smile. “I have faith.”
Garcia couldn’t help himself. “You should, uhm, tell Harding he could tell us, you know. I mean, I get… most bosses don’t want you to know anything personal about them. But… but Harding takes good care of us. And he picks us carefully. None of us are going to turn on him.”
Harman grimaced. “Yeah, but you know. His choice. Always.”
“Of course,” Garcia had to concede. “Unless, of course, your ex-she-bang tells half the ER after you’ve been stabbed. Man, I haven’t evenmetIliana Davies, but I want to slap her. Dick. Move.”
“Stress move,” Harman said, and that perpetual gentleness undid all of Garcia’s anger.
“When wouldyousend him back in the field?” he asked.
“Two months, after at least two weeks on a beach with nothing to worry about but slathering on another coat of sunscreen.”
“Fair.” Garcia could live with that. “When are you going to recommend to Harding he goes back?”
“Five days,” Harman told him soberly. “Use them well. Plan your ops. And give him a failsafe if you want him to get home. He can only protect himself so much when he’s trying not to puke blood.”
“I hear you,” Garcia muttered. “Anything else?”
Harm grimaced. “The antibiotics and NSAID painkillers are going to mess up his stomach even further.”
Garcia glared. “I hate this. I… I can’t do this. I literally need to kill something.” He would give his left nut for a heavy bag in the basement or some such bullshit, but he’d never had time to set up a home gym. It’s why he always used the equipment at work. It could take more punishment than the small set of free weights in the spare room.
And also, Crosby would usually be there, and they could work out together.
“You’re growling,” Harm said softly. “Perhaps you should take a run or something?”
