Epilogue
Three Years Later
Lynnette hooked her patient’s arm around her shoulder and helped the barely legal young man upright. “There you go,” she said, putting an encouraging smile into her voice. “Now let’s get you loaded up into the truck out front and safely off to a proper hospital, okay?”
The teenager groaned but limped apace with her. “Thanks for not insisting on the ambulance, Nurse B.”
She turned her head enough to make sure he saw the stern expression in her eyes. “I should have. Don’t make me regret bending the rules for those baby blues.”
He let out a weak chuckle. “I won’t, I swear. I won’t even mess with the radio.”
Somehow, his statement tossed Lynnette back in time, to the days when she’d had to drive herself an hour-plus to work while the sun was still yawning into the sky and she’d never been able to find a good station on the radio.
She didn’t miss that hospital, or that drive.
She missed that obnoxious talk show host even less.
But it was still surprising how much could change in a few short years.
“All ready to go, ma’am,” one of their staffers said as he met them in the parking lot.
“I can take him from here.” The guy was in his late twenties, and though he couldn’t go on the harder excursions due to his prosthetic leg, he worked his ass off getting things done on-site.
Lance had even occasionally carpooled with him to group counseling sessions.
Lynnette nodded and returned her focus to the over-adventurous teen who’d ignored the literal warning signs and gotten himself pinned by a rockslide three days prior.
“Kyle’s going to take care of you from here,” she said.
“And he’s going to help you all the way inside and flag you a nurse, but then it’s up to you.
We aren’t authorized to speak for you. Now, promise me one more time.
You’re going to cooperate with the hospital staff and let them treat your leg because you want to keep it, and you’ve learned your lesson about disregarding warnings or thinking yourself untouchable? ”
The boy bobbed his head. “Yeah. Yes. I promise. I’ll play nice, do what they tell me to. I’ll even call home once I get the chance. And I swear I did learn. I’m definitely not untouchable.”
Kyle snickered. “Lucky you, you learned it without losing that leg. C’mon, kid.” He slipped in where Lynnette was as she stepped back, and with another set of nods, they hobbled to the waiting truck.
Lynnette blew out a breath.
“I can’t tell if you liked that kid,” Lance said, settling at her side, “or if you’re pissed at him.”
“That’s because the answer is both.” She turned to face her husband. “I know teenage boys are idiots, but I’m still allowed to be mad about it. He could have died!”
Lance smiled and tugged her closer. “But he didn’t. Me and Jon found him, and he was lucky enough that that boulder didn’t crush anything vital.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I think you need to clock off and blow off steam with me.”
Lynnette rolled her eyes. “It’s hardly noon, babe.” She trailed her fingers up his chest, letting herself pause to trace the stylized PCR logo emblazoned into the fabric. “You can wait until we get home.”
“I really can’t.” Lance angled his head and kissed along her jaw. “It’s been too long.”
She fought not to laugh. “I’m very sorry I was asleep when you got home last night.”
He groaned and his lips hovered over hers. “A full overnighter. I missed you. Why do you work again?”
Lynnette pushed lightly at his chest, still smiling. “Because two incomes are better than one, and we like expensive things.”
A high-pitched squeal interrupted the next surely indecent thing Lance was planning to say, simultaneously reminding Lynnette that not only did she still have work, but she was standing in the front courtyard.
And while they weren’t exactly a bustling downtown, standing there and making out was not a professional look, regardless.
Lance sighed and loosened his grip as if reading her mind, and they both turned in time for a blur of bright, spindly blonde to crash into his legs.
“Uncle Lance!” Jessica could pronounce all her words nowadays, but when she got too worked up, the toddler tended to slur them still. Her Ls in particular still came out wrong. No one ever pointed it out to her.
Lynnette lifted a smile over to Jenna, whose eyes were laughing, too. “Hey, babe. What’s with the drop-in?” Even as she asked, she noted the pastry box Jenna was perfectly balancing on what had probably been her free arm.
Lance had scooped the two-year-old up and reduced her to a laughing fit, so Lynnette moved forward to help with Jenna’s armload.
Jenna, being Jenna, handed over her purse.
“Thanks.” She turned a smile toward her carefree toddler.
“Jess really wanted to surprise her dad for his birthday. So, we baked his favorite cake—meaning I baked it and she helped with the decorating—and here we are. Eric’s got the bakery under control, anyway. ”
Lynnette smiled. Jenna’s little bakery had rebounded like a champ after the fiasco with the shooting and being held in purgatory by the Parkers.
Sweet Stop was on the not-so-proverbial map, drawing customers from all over the west coast. Their small town had developed a tourist industry and grown by something like twelve percent, and Lynnette was well aware not all the locals were thrilled about that.
But growth was inevitable, and good. And she was so damn proud of her best friend.
Jenna bumped Lynnette’s arm gently as the group of them turned to walk into the large, always gleaming search-and-rescue building. “Jon let slip that you’re thinking about going for a full license. Why did I have to hear that from my husband?”
Lynnette winced swiftly made shushing motions as she leaned down to urgently whisper, “Because I haven’t fully decided! And your husband’s got smalltown gossip syndrome.”
Jenna snorted a laugh, which of course drew the attention of the forward pair.
“What’s the joke, Mommy?” Jessica asked, leaning over Lance’s shoulder as if he were a piece of furniture.
Lance arched a brow and looked between them. He’d learned to read her too well and could likely already tell the ‘joke’ had nothing to do with Jenna.
Lynnette glanced away and felt an ironic surge of glee when she spotted her boss rounding the corner into his office. “Oh, there’s Jon!”
On cue, Jessica began wiggling until Lance was forced to let the child-worm down, at which point she spun and bolted straight for her father’s space with another squeal. “Daddy!”
Lynnette laughed softly.
Lance looked back at them. “Yeah, you’re never pulling off a surprise again with that one.”
Jon’s impromptu surprise party offered Lynnette a temporary reprieve, but Jenna’s prying had forced her to make a decision.
And to make a true decision, she would need to talk it out with her other half.
So, when the sky had gone dark again and the business day was done, and once they were locked away in their home for the night, Lynnette grabbed two beers from the fridge and dropped herself into her husband’s lap.
Lance curled an arm around her without hesitation, took hold of the beers one-by-one, and twisted off the caps like they were made of cheap plastic. After he’d passed one bottle back to her, he cocked a brow and asked, “What’s goin’ on that you have to butter me up?”
“I’m not buttering you up.” She drew lines in the mounting condensation on the bottle before tipping it to her lips and taking a long swig. “I’m working up my courage.”
Lance stretched out his arm and set his beer on the side table, then anchored both arms around her. “Sweetheart, if there’s one thing you’ve got on lock, it’s courage.” He slipped his thumbs beneath the hem of her shirt to rub them over her skin. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Lynnette studied him. She didn’t know why she was worried how he might feel about it.
He’d supported her in every interest she’d expressed since they’d met.
The only thing she did know was that if she took the step she was thinking about, if she went from Nurse Blackburn to Lynnette Blackburn, MD, there would be a stretch of time when she wouldn’t be able to work.
She’d need more schooling. Most of the schooling could be done online, but not all.
She could have complete and proper control of the medic station at Pacific Coast Rescue if she had any sort of medical doctorate attached to her name. As it was, legally she’d been forced into the secondary position.
Lance would be thrilled if I could take control the way he originally envisioned.
She released one more breath and said, “It might kind of mess up our schedules for a little bit, but, I want to get a doctorate.”
Lance blinked at her. “You mean … Lynnette Badass Blackburn, MD?”
She rolled her eyes, but there was no stopping the laugh. “MD, yes. I’m pretty sure my middle name isn’t ‘Badass’.”
“It is. I checked.”
“Uh-huh.” She set her beer beside his and leaned into him. “And where did you check, exactly?”
A familiar, hungry smirk overtook his expression and one of his hands moved.
He slid it over her butt, under her thigh, and finally pressed two fingers firmly against her core.
The jeans she had changed into did nothing to hide her heat from his touch and little to dull the delightful sensation of his touch on her.
“Somewhere around here,” he said. “I could find it if I looked again.”
She huffed a laugh. “You think you could? And what makes that neighborhood the authority?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” he replied, rubbing firmly and tugging her close enough for his lips to tease hers with every word. “Your pussy never lies.”
She would have laughed, or maybe groaned, but his lips were on hers too quickly for any reaction to build. And then, like always, she was lost. She didn’t even know in which room they shed their clothes, only that she was on orgasm number three by the time she even caught sight of their bed.
It wasn’t until the following morning, when the both of them were cursing the concept of work and ignoring how late they’d chosen to stay up, that she realized he hadn’t properly answered her.
“Lance?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?” he called from the closet as he stepped into a fresh PCR uniform. For as often as their uniforms got totally thrashed, they did at least always start out crisp and tidy.
Lynnette stared down at the emblazoned scrub top in her hands. “You never actually said … how you felt about it. My plan.”
He was silent for several seconds. Long enough to finish dressing, tie up his boots, and walk over to her.
He lowered to his knees in front of her and pulled her hands into his, forcing her to release the top.
“Lynn,” he said, “I want what you want. Whatever that is. Conveniently, I also do want to step on Merle’s ego a bit. It might be the mustache.”
A silent laugh lifted her lips.
He continued. “We designed that position for you, before we knew about the damn technicalities. So, if you want to do what you need to do to grab it, then fucking get it. I’ll buy pom-poms and cheer you on. Can’t say the skirt would be my best look, though.”
“You’re ridiculous,” she said, emotions welling up in her chest.
He smiled. “I’m just a guy who knows my priorities. And that’s you, Lynn. Always.”
She clenched his hands. “I love you, Lance. So damn much.”
He rolled his fingers over the bracelet they had eventually turned his tags into and said, “Right back at you, sweetheart.” He rocked to his feet, leaned in, and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Think you’re ready to step outside and tackle another day of this life with me?”
Her smile eased and Lynnette tugged her top over her head. As she swept her hair free, she said, “This day, and every day after.”
The End