Chapter Thirty-Five

Olivia walked in wearing her jeans and a blue t-shirt, looking steady and focused.

Her gaze locked on him lying on the bed with his residual limbs extending past the end of his hospital gown. She scanned the room. "Where are your legs? Did they get damaged in the fight?"

"Over there." He pointed toward the chair.

Olivia went over to pick one up and examine the design painted on the robotic's casing. A flamingo in Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses with a beer and a bong were rendered in neon colors. "Festive." She set it down. "Not what I would have imagined you'd choose."

"Not what I chose – those are a research lab prototype. I'm waiting for my buddy Thorn to bring my chair. The doctors say things look fine, but I want to give my legs a break for a couple of days. Marvin—the engineer working on the robotics—will want to take those to his lab and check the data to see how his stabilizing invention did."

"How did it do?" She came to the bed, slid her feet out of her clogs, and threw a leg onto the mattress, signaling that she planned to climb on beside him.

Nutsbe budged over to make space for her. "Hard to say. I had other things that had my attention."

"So until they're back," she hitched her thumb toward the prostheses, "you'll be in the chair?"

"I have another set at home. Sometimes, I take a day or two off and use the chair, fight or no fight."

She reached up and combed his hair into place with her fingers. "Are you often in a fight?" She held his chin and pushed his face this way and that to see under the fluorescent light the damage he'd sustained. "This bruising needs a bag of peas."

"The nurse is getting me an ice pack. Purposefully, I fight several times a week for training. But going hand to hand with a bad guy? That's for my other team members."

Her thumb painted over his mouth, and she frowned at the cut on his lips. "You're always smiling," she said.

"I'm always smiling at you," he corrected.

They held each other's gaze for a long moment. "Thank you," Olivia said. There was a lot packed into those two words. He felt the importance of them moving into his body.

He wondered what she would have had him do other than what he did.

She was his to protect.

Anything that hurt her hurt him. No thanks necessary for self-preservation.

The bed was in an upright position, and she settled back, reaching for his hand, dusting her fingers over his bruised knuckles.

They were quiet. For a while, Nutsbe thought that Olivia might have fallen asleep. That wouldn't be unusual as adrenaline left her system, and she felt safe.

But after a moment, she said, "Your smile—do you ever get down about life? I get down about life," she whispered. "I get overwhelmed. Depressed. Sad." She didn't look at him and instead played with his fingers. "Today. This week. For too long now, to be honest."

"Of course you do. And I do, just like everyone else."

"You don't seem like it," she ventured, turning to lay a kiss on his chest before snuggling back down. "You're so even-keel except for around women's tears. I feel like I should present as sunnier. I mean, what have I got to be upset about? I have friends, a career I wanted, financial stability, and my health." She shook her head. "I felt mildly guilty when I said that last one out loud." She swiveled to look him in the eye, her forehead crinkled with a new thought. "And I shouldn't, should I?" She gestured towards his legs. "You're one of the healthiest people I've ever met."

"Are all my days blinking golden joy at my circumstances? No. Some days are darned hard. Painful. Sad. On other days, I'm gutted by the sheer amazement that I'm alive. Most days, it's a non-thing. I don't think about it anymore than I do the color of my hair." He took a moment, then added, "Olivia, you shouldn't worry about saying things like that around me. The sunnier part, yeah, don't do that." He scooted over a bit more so he could turn and really look at Olivia. "Nothing I dislike more than toxic positivity. You know, at Iniquus," he brushed his hand through her hair, "we're all a bunch of recalibrated special ops guys. Destroyed? Hell no. But our bodies have been through it. We've seen things, been involved in things. We're damaged from that life—physically—ears, backs, knees, repeated traumatic brain injuries. And mentally, that took a toll. Iniquus makes sure we have ongoing health support. There's a big emphasis on making sure everyone is properly cared for. Speaking of caring, did your friend"s husband get Henrietta and take her to the vet?

"I got a text. Hen's fine," Olivia said. "She's going to spend the rest of the week at Jaylen's property, playing with their dog and goat. Go back to what you were saying about toxic positivity, please. I need to hear this."

"Everyone seems to be looking for their happily ever after. And I just think that's not a thing."

"No?"

"Nope. You wake up and live that day. You're happy. You're sad. Angry. Frustrated. Tired. You're headachy or depressed. Would you really want a happily ever after? It would be a one-dimensional life. Where's the ecstasy of more than happy? Where's the surprise and the sense of relief? You have to go through a storm in order to feel awe in the brilliance of a silver lining."

"Okay, I get what you're saying. But if happily ever after shouldn't be the target. What's the goal?"

"Community. Purpose. Effort. Love, and—" He tangled his fingers into hers as she stopped him, finishing that sentence with a kiss.

Bob came in. "Sorry to interrupt." The door began to shut.

"Bob, come back," Olivia called. "It's okay."

Beowolf plodded in wearing a "service dog in training vest." He came over and thrust his head onto Nutsbe's lap.

"He missed you," Bob said, letting the lead drop.

"I missed him," Olivia bent and kissed Beowolf's head. "Hey, buddy. Looks like you're wearing a new uniform."

"Came to talk to you about that," Bob said, leaning a shoulder into the wall. "Reaper and Command made the call. Beowolf has been retired from the court program."

"What's going to happen to Beowolf then?" Olivia asked, her voice colored with worry.

"Well, that's what I want to talk to Nutsbe about. I explained to Reaper how Beowolf responds to you and how he gets mopey every time you bring him back to me. It occurred to us that you might be amenable to adopting Beowolf and having him work with you as a service dog. Reaper says that Beowolf needs little training to fill that role, mostly domestic commands."

"Like what?" Nutsbe asked.

"Bring me a beer." Bob shot him a grin.

"He can do that?" Olivia scooted her hips up the bed to sit upright.

"Open a fridge and get you a beer?" Bob asked. "That's easy."

"I could see how that might be a problematic skill for a dog to have. Especially if you've just gone to the store." Olivia smiled.

Nutsbe locked eyes with Beowolf. His?

"Brother, you totally held your own against two brawlers with weapons. This is in no way a sign of disrespect."

"I'm not reading it that way. I'm just not sure I qualify for using a service dog, is all."

"You absolutely do. I saw Thorn getting your chair out of his vehicle in the parking lot. There are days that, for whatever reason, you use your chair. And having Beowolf with you is just an added layer of protection and peace of mind, a little extra help. He can pick things up that you dropped, open doors, pull your chair."

"Go on beer runs." Nutsbe grinned.

"Exactly." Bob extended a drool rag to Olivia and another one to Nutsbe.

"Look, Noah performs your position with Cerberus. His stability service dog, Hairyman, is always by his side; if Hairy wasn't, a mother and her two small children would have drowned. Right? You never know when a K9 will make the difference."

"Besides," Olivia added. "Beowolf has been mopey and sad."

"He wants Henrietta's fine company," Nutsbe leaned over and put his forehead to Beowolf's.

"Would you deny him that?" Olivia asked.

"Of course not. Of course, I'll take Beowolf in as my dog. Grateful to have him, Bob. I guess I'm caught on the service dog part of that."

"Service dogs can go anywhere the public can."

"Not easily, and not his size," Nutsbe said. "How long does it take to train a service dog?"

"Not long. He has all of his public behaviors down. We can teach him to open doors. How to wear a stability harness if that's ever an issue."

"Which is all great. It means he can be in the office with me. But there are times I can't take on his care. I have to have one hundred percent focus on my team."

"We've got that covered. Bring Beowolf to the kennel or call us for a kennel hand to collect him. We'd like to keep his training up and use him for hospital outreach visits if you can work that into your schedule. He's a big hit with the kids. I think you'd get a kick out of it. And fewer sobbing women. Except tears of laughter—that's my experience."

"Are you leaving him with me now?" Nutsbe asked.

"I can. I gave him his breakfast before I brought him over." Bob looked around. "Are you going to be here long? I talked to Titus, and that's how I knew I would find you here. Beowolf was in the room when I had that conversation on speaker phone, and he got very upset when he heard hospital. He insisted we come. Titus said you were just getting a once-over. Nothing bad?"

"All's good. I just signed out and was about to dress."

"And I have my car," Olivia said. "I can get everyone home safe and sound." She grinned down at Beowolf. "You, too, slobber machine."

"Fine then, I need to get back to the morning routine with the dogs." Bob stepped forward, "I'll have a kennel hand drop off supplies. He can put them on your back porch for when you get home." He bent to pick up the lead and made sure Beowolf was watching when he handed it over to Nutsbe. "Congratulations on the addition to your family." Bob waved a goodbye hand as he walked out.

Nutsbe looked at Olivia. "Look at that. I'm a dad!"