Chapter 2 Intervention
Chapter two
Intervention
HMLG?
Lynnette smiled at the familiar, ridiculous text and set down the blanket she’d just been refolding.
The patient room around her was empty, being readied for its next occupant, and she’d been asked to slip in and make sure all the necessities were in place.
Which they were not, but it was an easy enough job.
And it gave her a moment to linger.
Several years earlier, her father had first sent a string of letters in a text message that baffled her.
He’d insisted that was ‘the thing’ and he was just ‘keeping up’.
Ultimately, they’d had a good laugh about it, and she’d mostly gotten him to re-embrace standard English.
But, for whatever reason, once a week he still sent this one faux-coded text.
Always the same four letters H-M-L-G. His way of checking in on her and trying to keep it light, she suspected.
How’s my little girl?
She was always tempted to respond that she was a grown-ass woman, thank you very much.
But she also liked going home for holidays and special occasions, missed her mama’s warm hugs, and enjoyed the psychological comfort of sitting in the living room with TV trays loaded with whatever her father had thrown on the grill and their starch of choice.
It was so casual it hurt sometimes, but in the best way.
So, Lynnette held back the snark, despite that no thirty-three-year-old woman needed her father constantly referring to her as his little girl anymore, and rolled her neck as she thought over her actual answer.
They had a system for these messages. It was their fun, dumb code. It entertained her father and she always smiled just getting the check-in. So, she played along and sent off her quick response.
6
She slipped her phone back into her pocket and resumed the brain-numbing task in front of her.
Blankets dealt with, she shook out the crisp, clean pillow case she’d brought in and was in the process of wiggling the pillow into the stupid sleeve when her phone buzzed again.
Of course, her father wouldn’t be satisfied with her answer.
But she wouldn’t lie to him. She was just glad he’d asked at a point where she could say it was over five.
Once the pillow was done and properly placed, Lynnette looked down at her phone one more time.
What do you mean ‘6’? We didn’t accept Ds in school and you’re not going to accept Ds in life, Lynnie.
Gods above, he’s ridiculous. She didn’t know why she hadn’t expected him to treat the answer like a score on a test. It was a sort of test, wasn’t it?
Hard day at work, that’s all. Love you. Talk later.
With one last peek through the cupboards, she stepped from the room, another task complete.
Her father’s written words rolled through her mind as she turned to repeat her patient check, and she had to bite back a laugh.
She wouldn’t necessarily mind accepting a D in her life.
She was just picky enough not to settle for perverts or assholes, and that kind of limited her choices. I need broader social circles.
All of those thoughts were shoved aside for reflection on another time as she slipped into her patient’s room. She needed to be clear-headed and focused, always.
The dull ache in his half-shredded leg was nothing compared to the confusion that left Lance gaping as one of his closest and most trusted friends calmly strolled from the hospital room. Leaving him alone with the strange woman who’d somehow frozen Jon’s assault without lifting a finger.
There were all kinds of people in the world, Lance knew, but bedridden and unarmed was not how he wanted to meet the stronger of them.
It was a rare day when he felt vulnerable.
But he was about as vulnerable as he ever allowed himself to get in that moment, and suddenly he was alone with a woman who’d just fucking hypnotized the prodigal Marine.
If she was there to kill him, he was fucked.
The tiny female stepped around and hopped up to sit on the side of his bed, near his wounded leg, angled to face him. “That’s a very cruel thing to think of a lady, Lance.”
He ground his teeth. He’d met a psychic once. That had not been a fun day.
The female, Ella she’d said her name was, released an exasperated sigh. “Oh, I’m not psychic. Not the way you’re thinking. I just know things.” She met his gaze, her haunting blue eyes twinkling. “Everything, you could say.”
“What could someone who knows everything want with a busted-up Marine?”
She smiled. “I’m here to offer you direction for the next phase of your life,” she replied. “I can’t make you accept it—you know, the whole free will thing—but I can promise that if you choose to, in a very short time, you’ll find you actually appreciate having been discharged.”
Lance scoffed. Who-and what-ever she was, her statement was impossible.
Amusement danced in her eyes. “I know, I know. You don’t believe me.
No one does at first.” She shrugged. “Here’s the low-down.
” She pressed the tips of her fingers against her own chest as she spoke.
“I am what is called a moirai. That’s the more accurate word for Fate, as in the goddess of.
” Her hand lowered. “And I am here to offer you a small piece of enlightenment, Lance Blackburn. Take it or leave it, but know that I won’t be offering this same knowledge to your potential other half, so your decision impacts more than just you.
In fact, it has rather wide-spanning ripple effects. But that’s irrelevant.”
He gaped at her. The woman had to be bat-shit. A fucking goddess? He’d seen a lot, he believed in a lot, but a fucking goddess? Just popping into his hospital room to help him because she could?
“Oh, right, I almost forgot.” She held out her hand. “I don’t know if this will reassure you or not, but if you wanted to read me, I’ll say all that again.”
He raised his hand to take her up on the offer, but thought better of it before their fingers could touch.
If her words were true, that definitely meant his measly mortal power wouldn’t be reliable.
If his concern was valid, she might just be looking to anchor herself in an effort to get past his natural defenses.
He let his arm fall back to the mattress. “What’d you do to Jon?”
Her smile brightened and she retracted her arm.
“Oh, I just convinced his instinct to see me as a ‘friendly’ and gave him a nudge. Suggested the coffee was his own impulse as much as mine.” She tapped her temple.
“His mind is split right now. His subconscious has accepted that there’s no reason to be wary of me and you’re safe enough for him to step out for a minute.
But I left his conscious mind untouched, so he’s arguing with himself. He’ll come around.”
That explained a lot, and yet in no way eased Lance’s concern.
Ella crossed one leg over the other and tipped closer. “So, would you like to hear what I’ve come to offer?”
Lance drew a hard breath. “Doesn’t seem to me like I’ve got much choice.”
Her gaze drifted to the glaringly obvious bandaging on his right leg.
“I am sorry about this,” she said. “We both know this type of injury is more an inconvenience than anything, and I’m sure you’re already fantasizing about hunting that panther, and that is an option.
” She met his gaze again, her expression suddenly serious.
“But if you take that path, you will be turning your back on your truest destiny, Lance Blackburn.”
He blinked at her. “How in the fuck is chasing down the bastard who shot up my buddy’s girl’s workplace, killed two people, and shredded my leg, supposed to be bad for me?”
“Oh, it would feel good in the moment, I have no doubt.” She gave a small nod as if reaffirming her own words.
“But how many times have you executed an enemy? How many times have you returned home, another successful mission under your belt? Some were more personal than others, we both know that. And in the end, the exhilaration always fades, doesn’t it? ”
His lips thinned. “Don’t talk like you know me.”
“I know you better than you know yourself,” she countered.
She straightened. “That’s why I’m here. Because this is your pivotal moment, Lance.
You stuck in this bed, in the last seconds before you meet the one whose future is meant to be tied to yours—this is the last opportunity you have to open your mind to new pathways. ”
His mouth opened. Before I meet the what? Who?
Amusement tipped her lips, but Ella didn’t laugh.
Instead, she held up two fingers, then lowered one.
“You can choose to follow that path of vengeance. It’s not as if there’s no nobility in cutting down those who’ve sold their souls to the darkness.
But that path doesn’t lead to peace, happiness, and a future of warm laughter.
It doesn’t lead to love. That path leads to more violence, isolation, alcohol, all in a vicious and honestly clichéd cycle until you finally fail.
It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy of dying in combat, except the combat is a little less conventionally recognized.
” She wiggled her raised finger. “That is the first path.”
That sure as fuck raised some questions, but Lance barely had time to swallow before she popped the second finger back up.
“Or you can choose the second path,” she said.
“The second path involves languishing in a state of recovery a bit longer than you’re used to.
Taking time to form a bond you never could otherwise.
And if you form that bond, your world will open up to the option of a quieter life, one of warm laughter, happiness, and genuine love.
” Her lips twitched. “That’s not to say you won’t still have the option of an adrenaline rush, regardless. Merely that it looks different.”