Em turned to leave, but suddenly she heard the scrape of a chair and there was a hand on her shoulder. She turned around fast. “Knock it off,” she said firmly.

But the kid grabbed her and kissed her square on the mouth.

Now, nine months ago, Emmaline would’ve just kneed him in the nuts and left him whimpering on the floor. But now she was a cop, and rather than be accused of police brutality, she opted instead to push her index finger into his Adam’s apple.

And it worked, of course; no one could kiss when his airway was being toyed with. Then all of a sudden, he was yanked back, and Jack had him against the wall with his arm on his throat, and the kid was wheezing and terrified.

The kid’s friends surged, then stopped, not sure what to do. “Stay,” she commanded. “Jack, knock it off.” She put her hand on his shoulder.

The bar grew quiet, only the music from the jukebox playing.

“You okay?” Jack bit out.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m even a little bored.”

“Problem here?” asked Connor O’Rourke, wiping his hands on a dish towel. Lucas stood behind him, as well as half the fire department, ready to rumble.

“No,” Em said. “Just a kid who can’t hold his beer. Jack. Let him go.”

He did (took him long enough), and his face was stony when he looked at her. A tiny muscle under his left eye twitched.

“Fuck you, mister,” the drunk kid said.

“You guys are done here,” Connor said to the youths. “Settle up and off you go.”

Jack’s jaw was still clenched, his eyes burning holes in the drunk kid, and, really, it was kind of hot. No one had ever been jealous over her before. Then again, it was also pretty over the top. “Let’s go back to our table,” she suggested, taking his arm and steering him away. He let her, though he grumbled most attractively. Em smiled.

Then there was a thunk, and Jack staggered forward. Em turned, and there was a rush of people and then Connor and Lucas and half the kid’s friends had the idiot pinned against the wall.

Because Drunk Boy had just hit Jack over the head with a beer bottle, and Jack’s blond hair was steeped with red.

* * *

“SO LET ME GET this straight,” Levi said at the E.R. about an hour later. “My brother-in-law and deputy were brawling in a bar?”

Jack sighed. His head was throbbing, Hadley was yowling like Lazarus during a trip to the vet and he really didn’t need all this...attention.

“Levi, drop the disapproving parent act,” Emmaline said. “The kid coldcocked Jack.”

Jack barely heard. Several floors above, Josh Deiner lay hooked up to his machines.

“Jack, why did the kid coldcock you?” Levi asked.

“Because he kissed me, and Jack was defending my pure and untainted honor,” Emmaline said. Ungratefully. Women. You never could win with them.

Levi raised an eyebrow, then looked over at Hadley, who was still choking with sobs. Frankie sat next to her, reading a magazine. “And why is she here?” he asked.

Why indeed? Because Jack’s ex-wife fed off attention like a vampire. Whatever happened to anyone happened to Hadley more. Just the fact that the shit-faced kid had hit on Emmaline had been guaranteed to make her crazy, so Jack wasn’t surprised when she went the Route Hysterical moments later.

As soon as the drunken idiot coldcocked him, Hadley had started screaming like a banshee (speaking of a lack of sobriety), begging him to speak to her, even though he was standing with a dishcloth of ice against his head, handed to him by Colleen seconds after he was hit. But that wasn’t enough for Hadley, and she’d actually crawled over to him as Frankie tried to pick her up off the floor.

Then Everett Field arrived, in uniform, puffing up with self-importance as he led the handcuffed kid away to the applause of the O’Rourke patrons. Pru and Carl had been at the bar, too, hidden in one of the back booths dressed in Star Trek uniforms, and Pru burst out laughing at the sight of her brother’s blood, which was fairly typical.

Then Levi had come in, as well as Faith, and, against Jack’s wishes, the ambulance was called, much to the delight of his fellow members on the Manningsport volunteer EMS squad.

He really just wanted to be home. With Emmaline.

As if picking up that thought, Hadley paused in her crying, glanced over and burst into renewed sobs.

“I have to interview her,” Levi said, his forehead wrinkling.

“Sucks to be you,” Em said.

“How much longer will this take?” Jack grumbled.

“They’re busy tonight,” Levi said. “Want me to call anyone? Your dad? Mrs. Johnson?”

“I’m sure your wife already has. If Pru didn’t beat her to it.” Privacy wasn’t an ideal the Holland family held dear.

“Hello! I’m looking for John Noble Holland the Fourth? Gorgeous name, right? Come on in!” Jack stood up and walked toward a tiny Asian woman who looked to be about fourteen years old. “Hi! Nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Chu. Sorry for the wait! It’s totes crazy here tonight.”

Hadley got up and tried to follow them in, but Jack simply said, “No,” which caused still-louder crying.

“Will you pipe down?” Frankie said. “They’re gonna medicate you if you don’t. Stop being such an attention whore, Hadley. He’s fine. And he’s not your concern anymore.”

“I thought he was dead! Oh, Jack, if you’d been—”

Mercifully, the doors swung shut behind him, cutting off his ex-wife’s wails.

The doctor, who couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, showed him into the exam room. “Have a seat, Mr. Holland. We’ll get you taken care of lickety-split. Positive attitude, check!”

There was a knock, and Emmaline peeked in. “Want company?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“Are you his wife?” the doctor asked.

“No. Girlfriend.” She blushed.

“Well, from the look of that gross and bloody towel, Mr. Holland,” the doctor said, “I think you’ll need some stitches. I love stitches. They’re my favorite! Has anyone ever told you you’re really handsome, Mr. Holland?”

Christ.

“Hey, is Jeremy Lyon on tonight?” Em asked. That’s right. Jeremy took shifts here a few times a month.

Dr. Enthusiasm paused. “Um...yes?”

“He’s a family friend. Mind if he sees Jack instead?”

The girl sighed. “Fine,” she said, deflating. “I’ll get him.” She slouched away.

“Thanks,” Jack said.

“Sure.” Emmaline sat down on the edge of his bed, glanced at him, then back at her hands. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for...you know. Looking out for me.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “It wasn’t necessary.”

Jack’s irritation melted a bit. “You’re welcome. I probably earned a kiss, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.”

“Definitely.”

“I’ll think about it.”

He reached out and hooked a finger in the front of her sweater and pulled her to him, then kissed her. Em’s hands went to his chest. Her mouth was so soft, a balm against this whole stupid night. “I really hated seeing that guy kiss you,” Jack murmured against her mouth.

“I should hope so.”

He kissed her again, and this time, his tongue brushed hers, and she melted against him.

“Hey, Jack— Oh, my God, you two are together? Why am I always the last to know the good stuff?” Jeremy stood in the cubicle. “This is so nice! I only wish I could take credit for fixing you up. Hi, Emmaline, how are you?” He hugged her, then shook Jack’s hand. “So you got hit on the head, huh? Not very smart of you, Jack.”

“He turned his back on a drunken idiot,” Em offered. Jeremy tsked and shook his head.

“Actually, you turned my back on a drunken idiot,” Jack said.

“True. Sorry about that.”

“Did you lose consciousness?” Jeremy asked, washing his hands.

“Nope.”

“How’s the pain?”

“Fine.”

“You military types. So stoic.” He looked at Jack’s head, then opened a cabinet and took out a suture kit. “Gonna need a few stitches, bro. This will sting.”

* * *

WHEN JEREMY WAS DONE, Em said she’d check on Hadley and see if Levi needed anything else. “Other than the head wound, how are things?” Jeremy asked when she was gone.

“Good.”

“Any sequelae from the rescue?”

Jack looked up sharply. “Like what?”

“Inner ear pain, balance issues.” Jeremy paused, his eyes steady. “PTSD.”

“No.”

“This is confidential, of course, since I’m here as your doctor. PTSD would be things like nightmares, panic attacks, flashbacks.”

“I know what it is, but I’m fine, Jeremy. Thanks.”

“Okay. Glad to hear it.” He signed a paper. “Ice, Tylenol if you need it, come to the office in a week for stitch removal.” Jeremy smiled. “Good to see you, even under the circumstances.”

“You, too, Jer.” He gave Jeremy a manly hug. The guy was practically part of the family. As decent as they came, too.

Emmaline wasn’t back yet, and Jack found himself going to the elevator. Got in, pushed the button. The elevator rose, and six seconds later, the doors opened to a sign.

“Fourth Floor, Intensive Care Unit. Please speak quietly.”

The hall was quiet except for the beeping of machines and, farther down, the murmur from the nurses’ station. The squeak of rubber-soled shoes. The hiss of a ventilator.

Room 401 had a whiteboard hanging on the door. McGowan, H. was written in green marker. Jack could see a bed and someone sleeping (or dead). Across the hall, 402, Zaccharias, M., 403, Blake, S., 404, Humbert, L.

Room 405, Deiner, J.

The door was open a few inches.

He shouldn’t be here.

His heart was smashing in his chest, hurling itself against his ribs like that bobcat.

If he opened the door just a little more, he’d be able to see something. Josh’s feet, maybe.

The image of Josh Deiner, sitting up in bed, texting on his phone or watching TV or eating Jell-O, came to him so fast and hard that Jack’s knees nearly buckled.

“Can I help you?”

Jack jumped. He hadn’t even heard the nurse behind him. “Jane MacGregor, APRN,” her name tag said. Jack was aware suddenly that he was drenched in sweat.

“How’s he doing?” Jack whispered.

Her face softened. “Are you a family member?”

“No.”

“Then I can’t discuss—”

“How dare you? Get out! Get out!”

Josh Deiner’s mother stood in the doorway, her voice like breaking glass. “How dare you come here? Get away from my son!”

“Mrs. Deiner, I just wanted—”

“Get away from us!” she screamed, and shoes were squeaking on the floors and visitors’ heads popped out of rooms. “He’s here because of you! How dare you intrude like this!”

The nurse took Jack’s arm and led him down the hall, and Jack thought he might fall; he wasn’t sure his legs were working right. Maybe it was the hit on the head, but he was wrong, something was wrong, and Josh, please, please don’t die.

The elevator doors opened, and there was Emmaline.

“There you are,” she said.

“There’s been a disturbance here,” said the nurse. “Security’s on their way up.”

“Josh Deiner’s room?” Em asked. “Jack here is the one who pulled him out of the lake.”