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“My head knows that. It’s my heart that’s been a little hard to convince.
But it’s coming around. I think.” As long as he could keep his father’s words out of his head.
He exhaled slowly. “That experience was surreal, weird, terrifying. I had some nightmares from that time, but never . . . that. I never would have put myself—or my team members—in that situation if I had known my mind was going to betray me. Where I couldn’t move, couldn’t think.
Put other people in danger. Mac, my partner, had to pull me down and force me to take cover. ” Thank God for Mac McPherson.
“PTSD doesn’t make you weak, Leo.”
“Tell that to the review board.” And his father.
The man’s voice was never very far away from the inside of his head.
“A man worth being called a man proves what he was made of. No panic. No hesitation. Kavanaugh men don’t break—they execute.
” He shook his head, wishing the voice had a mute button.
“Honestly, because I never had a history with it, they were understanding. Ordered me to get help. I didn’t want to, but I was also scared not to.
Coming to the ranch was the best decision I could have made.
I feel stronger already, clearer. Almost ready to go back.
” The fact that he could talk about it without triggering an episode was a definite step in the right direction.
The words sounded right, but something inside him twisted at the thought of leaving—okay, at the thought of leaving her.
Over the past two months, Felicity had become .
. . important. He’d found his place in the kennel working with her and the dogs.
Her quiet strength, her natural way with the animals, the rare smile that transformed her face—he’d cataloged these things without realizing he was doing it.
“That’s good.” Her tone remained neutral. “The program works for most people.”
“And what about you?” Leo turned toward her. “Did it work for you?”
In all their conversations over the past two months, she’d never told him how she came to be at the ranch, but his gut said something besides the job brought her there.
“It did.” She slowed as they approached the hospital.
“I met Rachel about two years ago. She told me about Broken Chains. Thought I would be a good fit, that it would help. I wasn’t sure but decided to visit and see.
I loved it and said I’d move in and give it a chance.
It helped. And when Maya and Gideon offered me a place to set up the kennels and build my K-9 training business, I took them up on it.
” She cut her eyes to him. “Rachel is pretty wonderful. She’s helped me in more ways than I can explain. ”
“You don’t have to convince me of that. She’s awesome.” He paused. “So you’re still healing too.”
She parked the truck in the parking garage and cut the engine. “Some wounds don’t really heal, Leo. Instead, you learn to shove the pain in a box and live with it even while you pray that it gets better.” She sighed. “But thankfully, some days are easier than others.”
“Agreed.”
The drive had taken thirty minutes—which allowed the questions to multiply.
He looked around. Families hurried toward the entrance, and medical staff dressed in scrubs grabbed coffee and backpacks from their cars.
Leo stared out at the towering medical complex through the garage’s open sides.
North Knoxville Medical Center stretched out before him like a small city, all glass and steel reaching toward the sky.
The main hospital building dominated the skyline, its windows reflecting the morning sun in a way that made it look both impressive and intimidating.
It was just another hospital. No need for his breath to hitch or his throat to tighten.
The last time he’d been in a place like this was after the helicopter crash—different building, same antiseptic smell that probably clung to every medical facility in the country.
Same feeling of everything being slightly out of his control.
His father telling him, “Pain means you’re still in the fight. ”
But . . . this wasn’t about him. This was about getting answers, about keeping people safe. The kind of work he was good at when his head was screwed on straight.
Leo stepped out and walked around to meet Felicity, who’d let the dog out from his area. “Let me take Auggie.” He reached for the dog’s leash. She handed it over, and they walked through the automatic doors, then followed the signs to the surgery waiting area.
Maya and Gideon were talking to two men dressed in casual clothing, but Leo had no trouble identifying them as detectives.
He’d worn the same type of clothes just a few short months ago.
The hospital would have reported the shooting.
One of them shifted, and Sheriff Donovan, a man who came to the ranch on a regular basis to eat dinner with Maya and Gideon, stepped into view.
Maya spotted him and Felicity and motioned them over. Gideon stood beside her.
“Any news?” Felicity asked.
Maya shook her head. “Still in surgery.”
“Did he say anything else before they took him back?”
“No, he never regained consciousness.” Maya led them to a quieter corner. “They’re worried about internal bleeding and the fact that he lost quite a bit of blood before we got him here.”
Leo scanned the waiting room, noting exits and potential threats. Old habits. “Any sign of who shot him?”