Chapter 39 The Universe’s Plan
THIRTY-NINE
The Universe’s Plan
Hutch
“Can you get her to stop scowling at me? It’s nerve-racking,” the doctor sewing the cut on the ball of his left foot said.
Hutch looked to his woman who was, indeed, hovering over the doctor’s shoulder and scowling at the back of his head.
“Babe,” he called.
Her eyes jerked to Hutch.
He pointed at the chair beside his bed. “Please sit.”
She scowled harder, then huffed, then stomped to the chair, turned woodenly and plopped her ass in it.
Although she sat, she kept scowling at the doctor.
“You’re gonna need to keep your weight off this,” the doctor said.
“Give me a boot,” Hutch replied.
“Save me from tough guys,” the doctor mumbled.
“He’s a goddamned SEAL,” Mabel sniped.
The doc’s startled gaze came to her.
Hutch tried not to laugh.
“Fix him,” she ordered. “We have to go to the vet. Someone shot our dog.”
The doctor turned to Hutch.
“Someone shot your dog?” He sounded pissed.
“Yeah,” Hutch said.
The doctor went back to his foot. “I hope you shot them.”
“He did. All five of them. Multiple times,” Mabel informed him.
The good doc’s gaze skittered to her face, and his own paled before he turned to Hutch.
“The gunshot victims who came in before,” he said. “That was you?”
Hutch shrugged.
“He didn’t kill them,” Mabel kept the information flowing. “Hark back to my mention of a SEAL. Flesh wounds.” She turned to Hutch. “We’ll be talking about that decision.”
Christ, his side hurt from not laughing.
“Baby, maybe play it more cool,” Hutch suggested.
She huffed again, slouched in her chair and crossed her arms on her chest.
The curtain opened.
“I’m working,” the doctor snapped.
Harry shut the curtain behind him and strode in.
“Oh, hey, Harry,” the doc greeted.
“Hey, Bill,” Harry replied, then he walked to the side of the bed Mabel wasn’t on.
“How you doin’, Mabel?” he asked her.
“I’m pissed as shit, that’s how I’m doing,” she returned.
Harry looked to Hutch and raised his brows.
Hutch’s body was shaking with laughter, so he didn’t trust himself to speak.
“Hold still,” the doc ordered.
Hutch got a lock on it.
“So, I think I don’t have to tell you, they’re all fine. Bullets dug out. Stitched up. In recovery,” Harry reported.
“I will repeat we’ll be discussing this,” Mabel warned.
Hutch turned to her. “Baby, I’m not gonna shoot five men dead in my front yard.”
“Why not? They shot at you…and me,” she pointed out sassily. “They weren’t there to trick-or-treat Hutch.”
They were not.
He looked to Harry.
“Why were they there?” he asked.
“We haven’t been able to talk to them. Worst one is Enstrom. Hannibal chewed right to the bone. He might lose that leg. They got him stabilized, and they’re sorting an escort and prepping him for a trip to Seattle where there’s a specialist who might be able to save it.”
“Good,” Mabel spat. “Though, not the saving it part.” Then she went on like Harry was going to leave and slap the cuffs on their dog. “Hannibal was defending himself. He got shot. If you could gnaw the leg off a man who shot you, wouldn’t you?”
“Maybe she needs some sedatives,” the doc suggested.
“I have a hurt dog and a hurt guy. I’m not taking a sedative,” she retorted hotly.
“May, baby, everyone is okay. It’s all fine. Cool it,” Hutch urged.
She glared at him and repeated her huff.
The curtain moved again, and Doc Riggs was there.
“Hey, Doc,” Harry greeted.
Doc leaned to the side and looked at Hutch’s feet.
He then gave his diagnosis.
“Jesus, brother.”
“He jumped out of the attic window onto the glass of said window that he broke with the butt of his rifle,” Mabel informed him.
Doc grinned at Hutch. “Badass.”
“He nearly gave me a heart attack!” Mabel snapped.
“May, again, I’m fine. Chill,” Hutch ordered.
“Ugh!” she grumped and returned to glaring at the doctor.
“Nadia has your room ready,” Doc reported. “Grabbed some clothes for you both, essentials, got the pups, the cat, the husky. And Ledger is in heaven.” Pause. “Though he is that and says he’s glad you’re all right.”
“Thanks, man,” Hutch replied on a smile. “We just have to swing by the vet to check on how Hannibal is getting along then we’ll be over.”
They had to stay with Nadia and Doc because Enstrom had blasted two holes through his front door.
Fortunately, he aimed one too high and the other one at the doorknob so only some of Enstrom’s buckshot hit his dog.
Unfortunately, some of his buckshot hit his dog.
“Could you go to that bed and put your feet up and let your woman look into the state of your dog?” the doctor requested.
“No,” Hutch denied.
The good doc sighed, turned to his tray, grabbed some scissors, snipped the thread then reached for the saline.
The curtain moved again, and Abigail and Brett rushed in.
Or Abigail did. Brett sauntered in after her.
“And here’s me who didn’t bring an appetizer,” the doctor groused as he set the saline flush aside and started wrapping Hutch’s foot.
Mabel got up and rushed to Abigail.
They hugged then separated, and Abigail looked down to his feet.
“Oh my God! That looks really bad!” she exclaimed.
“That’s what I keep telling him,” the doctor muttered.
“Just cuts, only one deep enough for stitches,” Hutch explained. “I’m fine.”
“Where are the kids?” Mabel asked.
“Mom came over,” Abigail told her. Her gaze moved back and forth between Hutch and Mabel. “Is there anything you need?”
“Moral support and help holding Hutch down after we check on Hannibal so I can chain him to the bed so he won’t use his injured feet,” Mabel answered. “I don’t think Doc, Ledger, Nadia and I are enough to keep him still.”
“Now we’re talkin’,” the doctor muttered as he wrapped Hutch’s other foot.
Hutch was okay with Mabel chaining him to the bed, just not for that reason.
“Damn, now I can’t challenge you to a game of one-on-one,” Brett joked. “Guess I’ll have to wait until next April.”
“His feet should be better way before then,” Mabel told him.
“Don’t pollute his fantasy,” Abigail stage whispered. “April gives him five months to shoot hoops for an hour every day so he has some hope he can keep up with Hutch.”
“Oh. Right,” Mabel replied.
“It also gives me five months to watch him shoot hoops while I sew my letter on my cheerleader sweater,” Abigail concluded.
Finally, Mabel smiled.
The doctor stood and rolled his tray away.
“There won’t be any hoops for this guy,” he announced unnecessarily.
He looked down at Hutch. “I’ll get someone to bring you a boot.
But please stay off your feet as much as you can for a few days at least. Keep them clean and wrapped.
I’ll give you a prescription for a topical antibiotic.
This is only precautionary. You said you have your tetanus up-to-date, and we gave it a good clean.
I want you to go to your doctor in a week for a checkup.
The stitches will dissolve on their own.
” He then looked around and quipped, “Thanks for inviting me to the party,” and he rolled his tray out.
Doing it, he nearly ran into Mrs. Matthews.
“See here!” she snapped. “Look where you’re going. You nearly ran me over.”
“My apologies,” the doctor muttered and rolled his tray past her, and if Hutch wasn’t wrong, he did this rapidly.
Hutch thinned his eyes at Mabel.
“It wasn’t me,” she said.
“Ellis listens to police band,” Mrs. Matthews declared as she strode forward, Ellis at her back.
She looked to his feet and gave her orders for his treatment plan.
“You will remain in bed for two full days, not including bathroom breaks, so you won’t worry Mabel.”
Hutch pushed up to sitting. “They’re giving me a boot.”
“Puh!” she pushed out. “Save the world from tough guys.”
Hutch sighed.
“I just came in to see how you’re doing,” Harry said. “And to share, obviously, no charges will be filed. Castle doctrine.”
“I should think not,” Mrs. Matthews stated sharply.
Harry glanced at her with a smile, then came back to Hutch.
“We’ve been over the scene thoroughly, I’ll be writing it up and going over it with the county attorney, but I don’t see any issues,” he continued.
“They were using deadly force. You used reasonable force. How you managed it putting two holes in three guys, and one in the last two, I don’t know.
But you did. Bottom line, you got buckshot in your roof, a destroyed door and an injured dog who took a hit.
The threat was imminent. So go to Doc’s.
For fuck’s sake, put your feet up for a couple of days.
And I’ll talk to David about hanging a new door. ”
Hutch nodded.
Harry started to walk away, doing chin dips as he went, but Hutch called, “It was the thrill.”
Harry turned to him and winced.
“We should have known, with your training, he couldn’t resist,” he replied.
Hutch sighed again.
Harry gave him a smile, passed it around liberally, then walked away.
“What’s this about a thrill?” Abigail asked.
“No idea,” Mabel replied.
“He’s fine. We can go home now,” Mrs. Matthews decreed.
She then pivoted and marched away.
Ellis gave them a brief wave and followed.
“You sure you don’t want me to go look in on Hannibal?” Doc offered.
“Or we can go,” Brett added.
“I need to see my dog’s okay,” Hutch said.
Everyone nodded.
He looked to Mabel.
The minute he did, she came to him and wrapped her hand around his ankle.
She searched his eyes.
He smiled.
And for the first time since they got to the hospital, her tone was her usual sweet, when she said, “Let me go see what’s happening with that boot.”
And then his woman left.
In Doc and Nadia’s guest bedroom, Hutch lay in a line with Mabel tucked to his front, and Hannibal, his poor boy in a cone, tucked to hers.
Tonks was across the foot of their bed, but at Mabel’s shooing, not on their feet.
Moxie was curled into a ball at Hannibal’s gut.
Hannibal was snoring even if Mabel was petting.
“We’re very lucky,” she whispered.
She was right.
“Bad angle for Enstrom, good angle for Hannibal,” he murmured.
Even so, Hannibal had taken twelve pellets and had four more sear through his fur without entering flesh. Some of those twelve drove deep. None of them hit anything major. All of them had been dug out.
He’d been stitched up, given a shot of antibiotics and a heavy sedative.
As she did when he carried him out of his house, Mabel nearly went berserk when Hutch carried him from the vet to his truck.
Fortunately, Doc was there to carry him into the house so she wouldn’t throw another shit fit.
Now they were in bed, finally able to rest, and it was nearly eight o’clock in the morning.
“What was that about the thrill?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you later.”
“You’re tired,” she surmised quietly.
He was.
And he was relieved.
Content.
He had a long debate going on with himself about the question of God and faith. But he straight up didn’t believe in fate or destiny.
But he knew one thing.
Something drove him to the training he received in the military.
It was the challenge, for certain, along with loyalty to his country. Perhaps a son’s drive to make his father proud.
But that night, he knew, all of that had been trumped.
Because whatever drove him to become who he was—a divine hand or the universe’s plan—it did it so he’d be able to be right there, with Mabel and their animals, safe, sound and together.
“Yeah, baby,” he answered quietly. “But I can stay awake if you need to talk shit out.”
“We can do that tomorrow when you’re on Doc and Nadia’s couch with your foot elevated.”
Hutch sighed for what he hoped would be the last time in a while.
Then he said, “Proud of you tonight. With a calm head, followed through with orders.”
“I give you all the credit,” she replied. “I was freaking. You were so in the zone, it helped me not lose my shit.”
No.
She was a tough cookie, and a smart one.
“Think I got hard when you rifle whipped Enstrom,” he teased.
“Ugh. Shut up.”
He smiled.
“I do not regret that, he deserved it,” she declared.
He fucking did.
“Go to sleep, baby,” he urged.
“If you promise to do that too.”
“Promise.”
After that, he enjoyed feeling Mabel snuggling into him.
And after that, they both fell asleep.
Mabel, Nadia, Abigail and Lillian were bustling around in the kitchen.
Cin, Rus, Doc and Harry were at the stools outside of it, with Brett leaned against the end. They were shooting the shit, though Harry, who had hold of Cicely, was pretending to eat her tiny, fisted hand, and she was giggle-gurgling.
The older kids, Maddie, Cin’s daughter, and Ledger, had taken Viggo, Liam and Emma into the extra room to play with the puppies.
To keep Mabel happy, Hutch was in the sunken living room on the couch, propped up on pillows behind his back, more under his feet. Hannibal was snoozing on the floor at his side.
This was where he stayed even as Stormy strolled his way with two fresh beers.
He sat his ass on the coffee table and handed Hutch one.
Storm gave his dog a stroke before he threw back a tug then looked at Hutch.
“Worth the risk?” Stormy asked.
Hutch didn’t hesitate. “Worth the risk.”
Hannibal’s head came up as Emma careened into the couch, landed her torso on his, along with her elbows, rested her jaw in her hands and asked, “Missa Hutch, can I have a puppy?”
Thankfully, before he had to answer, Abigail called, “Emma! Be careful with Mr. Hutch and Hannibal. He got his feet hurt last night, and that puppers needs his rest.”
She looked down to Hutch’s feet then to him with a worried expression on her cute face.
And she gave him her treatment plan.
“You should ask Miz Mabel to kiss it better.”
He smiled at her. “Good idea. I will, sweetheart. She’s good at that.”
“Now, can I have a puppy?” she pressed.
He was saved from answering that time when Tonks showed, yodeled at her, licked her ear, then raced away.
After trilling a giggle, Emma raced after her.
Stormy reached the neck of his beer out.
Hutch met it.
They clinked.
“Who’s ready for chili?” Nadia shouted.
He heard racing feet and first Ledger’s “Me!” then Viggo’s, “Me!” and finally Liam’s, “Me!”
Stormy moved to a chair.
Mabel brought Hutch a bowl. She went back to the kitchen and brought Stormy a bowl.
Finally, she returned with her own bowl, carefully lifting his legs (he helped) so she could sit and put them over her lap before she started shoving chili covered in cheese with a hefty dollop of sour cream and sprinkled green onions in her sweet mouth.
He twisted his neck to look at Storm.
Stormy said the only thing there was to say.
On a smile, he said, “Yeah.”