31. George
Chapter Thirty-One
George
“Hale, you have a visitor!”
The nurse announced from the door. A visitor? I have no one out there. The only person that I need is right here, and has been right here in this hospital with me.
“Who?”
“Oh, old man, you look like shit.”
I fucking hate this guy, but the fact that he is here makes hating him a little less. “What are you doing here, Mack?”
“Well, I asked the Sergeant for a couple of hours, since the mission is a bust now. Oops, I wasn't supposed to say that. Anyway, how are you holding up? You scared the shit out of me back there.”
“I'm fine,” I grumbled, shifting against the pillows. The movement sent a dull ache through my side, but I wasn't about to let him see me wince. “Takes more than that to put me down permanently.”
“Yeah, well, you did a pretty good impression of a corpse for a minute there.” Mack pulled up the chair beside my bed and dropped into it like he owned the place. “Seriously though, man. How's the recovery going?”
“Slow. Boring as hell.” I gestured vaguely at the IV drip. “They've got me on the good stuff, but not good enough to make daytime television interesting.”
Mack snorted. “What, you don't enjoy watching middle-aged women argue about who the baby daddy is?”
“Surprisingly, no.”
“Could be worse. You could be dead.”
“Thanks for that uplifting observation, asshole.”
He grinned, that stupid cocky grin that made me want to punch him and buy him a beer at the same time. “That's what I'm here for. Moral support and brutal honesty.”
“How's everyone else?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “The team holding up okay?”
“Yeah, we're good. Mitchell's been running drills like a madman, probably trying to work out his feelings about almost losing your ugly face.” Mack leaned back, crossing his arms. “Rodriguez keeps asking when you're coming back. I think he misses having someone to complain to about his ex-wife.”
“Tell him I miss his bitching too.”
“Will do.” Mack's expression softened slightly, just for a second. “For real though, George. We're glad you made it.”
Something tightened in my chest. I wasn't good at this—the sincere shit, the emotional vulnerability. But Mack had been there, had probably seen me at my worst, covered in blood and barely conscious.
“Yeah, well,” I said, clearing my throat. “I'm too stubborn to die. You know that.”
“Damn right you are.”
The door opened again, and I looked up to see Mia walking in with that smile that made everything in this sterile white room feel a little warmer. She had a bag from the cafeteria in one hand and was already pulling out what looked like contraband snacks.
“Oh,” I said, catching Mack's curious look.
“That's your accountant, right?” Mack asked and laughed.
Mia stopped mid-step, her eyes widening before she burst out laughing. “Your accountant? Really, George? You never clarified that? I'm going to smother you with that pillow.” Mia threatened, but she was smiling, her cheeks flushed pink.
“See, this is the kind of dedication you don't get from the regular accountants back home,” Mack said, clearly enjoying himself now. “Round-the-clock service, bedside manner—”
“Okay, okay,” I cut in, reaching out to catch Mia's hand as she moved closer to the bed. “Mack, this is Mia. Mia, this is Mack, one of my team members and a giant pain in my ass.”
“Nice to finally meet you,” Mia said, extending her free hand to shake Mack's. “I've heard a lot about you.”
Mia nodded, and I felt something warm settle in my chest at how easily she fit into this, into my world. She squeezed my hand before letting go. “I was going to grab some coffee from the decent place down the street. Mack, do you want anything?”
“Coffee would be great, actually. Black, two sugars if they have it.”
“Got it. George, your usual?”
“Please.”
She grabbed her purse and headed for the door, pausing to look back at us. “Try not to let him overdo it while I'm gone. He's supposed to be resting.”
“Yes ma'am,” Mack said with mock seriousness.
The door clicked shut behind her, and for a moment, there was silence. I could feel Mack staring at me, could practically hear the gears turning in his head.
“So.” He finally said. “Your accountant.”
“Shut up.”
“No, no, I'm just trying to understand the full scope of her services—”
“Mack.”
He laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. But seriously, man. She seems great. And you...” He tilted his head, studying me with an expression that was far too knowing. “You look different.”
“I'm in a hospital bed. Of course I look different.”
“That's not what I mean.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You look happy. Giddy, even. Is this the emotionally unavailable sergeant finally becoming available? Should I alert the media?”
“Fuck off,” I said, but there was no heat in it.
“I'm serious! This is groundbreaking stuff. George Hale, the man who once told me that feelings were 'a waste of tactical energy,' is making googly eyes at his accountant.”
“I don't make googly eyes.”
“You absolutely do. It's disgusting. I love it.”
I flipped him off, which only made him laugh harder.
“I'm happy for you, man,” Mack said, his tone shifting to something more genuine.
“Really. You deserve this. Someone who shows up, who stays. Especially after...” He trailed off, but I knew what he meant.
After everything we'd seen, everything we'd been through.
After all the ways this job tried to hollow you out from the inside. After Monica.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I'm pretty grateful to have her.”
“Pretty grateful? That's the most emotional thing I've ever heard you say.”
“And that's your cue to leave.”
Mack stood, stretching his arms over his head.
“Actually, I do need to head out. Got to get back before Mitchell realizes I've been gone longer than authorized.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder, careful to avoid the injured side.
“But I'll call, alright? Keep in touch. And when you're cleared to come back, drinks are on me.”
“You're damn right they are.”
“Take care of yourself, George. And let that woman take care of you too. You're allowed to do that, you know.”
“Get out of here before you make me cry.”
“Now that I'd pay to see.” He headed for the door, then paused. “Oh, and George? Your accountant is way out of your league.”
“I know. Go find her and grab your coffee.”
He grinned one last time and disappeared into the hallway, leaving me alone with the steady beep of monitors and the lingering warmth of knowing that despite everything.
The pain, the recovery, the uncertainty, I had people who gave a damn.
And one person in particular who'd decided I was worth sticking around for.