Teri noticed the slump of Doc’s shoulders but didn’t know what to say. Not like she was some wizard counselor or maybe she’d have her own shit together.
“Of course,” he muttered to himself, “No idea what the crap I’m good for if I do get out.”
“Medic,” she said it without thought.
He snorted. “Yeah right.”
“I’m serious.”
He finally turned to look at her. “I don’t see you becoming some amazing painter or photographer.”
“Not my skill. It’s clear that medical is yours.”
“My sister’s gonna be a brain surgeon. Mom is a top OR nurse. Dad’s the cutter for Boston’s biggest ER. How am I supposed to compete with any of that?”
Teri used to ask herself the same question. She had none of the skills. But her desire to fit in the family had made her try—unsuccessfully—for years.
Doc was back to scowling out at the rolling ocean.
“So don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t compete.”
Again he turned to her. Each time he did, it was as if she could see him more clearly. Not disjointed like one of her brother’s paintings or, even stranger, Dad’s semi-realistic Mexican Day-of-the-Dead imagery as if he weren’t Scottish.
“Don’t compete. You have the makings of being a damn fine medic. How many would never have made it out of that hole at all without your help? Jethro would never have made it alive to my bird. Probably not Smith either. You’ve got the right instincts, the right level of care, and I didn’t see you doing any of the normal squeams about doing the hard stuff. Just like Viper told Smith they need gunners, our Combat Search-and-Rescue team needs trained medics. Good ones, who know how important it is that we fly right into a battle zone if it means saving people.”
His smile went sideways, which meant something had struck him funny.
“What?”
“That’s an awful lot of words for Teri Carson of the Alaskan Carsons.”
“Sue me.”
He laughed, but this time the smile was all for her. “Medic, huh?”
But he wasn’t doing the staring out at the ocean while he thought. He was looking right at her.
All she could do was nod.
“How long to train up?”
“Depends on your instructor and how hard you’re willing to work. Three months to active duty. Nine months to lead. A couple years to do the kind of things I just did for Jethro.”
This time his gaze shifted to thoughtful. “I actually like the sound of that. Saving Jethro and Smith felt good. I could like that a lot. Know any good instructors?”
“I do.”
The question was, did she want to take on someone like Doc as a student? Maybe as more than a student?
“I know a damn good one.” It seemed that she did.
When he caught her meaning, that smile went ever so bright. Like he was tasting sunshine.
He raised his hand, facing her. “Go Team Black Sheep!”
That she high-fived him for.
He spread his fingers and she let her own interlace with his.
Yes, it was just like sunshine.