Page 43 of A Texas Hero

He waited for her to finish her swim, shower and dry off. When she strode back into the room, wearing a bright yellow dress with orange polka dots that were actually tiny pumpkins, he couldn’t stop staring.

“It’s Monday,” she reminded him, and he was nearly struck dumb.

Monday: the day she went to the cancer ward to cheer up the patients and encourage the staff. He didn’t know how he could have forgotten. It seemed like much longer than a week, since they’d been spending every day together. In some ways, he felt like he’d known Zoey for years.

“I have a check for them,” she said, digging it out of her purse and showing it to him. “It’s the end of the year and my daddy is making his charitable donation.”

He’d never seen that many zeroes on a check in his life. Zoey’s father was incredibly generous.

“Then we’d better get that right over to them,” he said.

Chapter Sixteen

Walking into the cancer ward a week later felt like a year had gone by. She understood so much more about the man who’d been guarding her. He definitely challenged her and wasn’t going to agree with everything she said but also had so much to say. His words to Rachel about the day of the wedding were so deeply personal. It was the way she felt about marriage; it was what her mother had taught her.

“It’s not about the dress or the day,” she’d said. “It’s about the rest of your life together. And it won’t always be easy, Zoey, but it will be worth it with the right man.”

Archer walked next to her, opening doors. He might be confused for an attentive boyfriend, or…a bodyguard. She was going to assume people believed the first one and let everyone draw their own conclusions.

“Zoey!” Susan, the head nurse said. “You’re back so soon.”

“Well, it’s almost Sweetheart Day.” Zoey gestured to Archer. “This is my friend, Archer. He wanted to come along with me today. Is that okay?”

Archer held out his hand to Susan. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Archer Rossi.”

“Hey!” a little voice shouted. “Mr. Archer! It’s me, Joey. Remember me?”

Zoey turned to see Joey with his mother, Darcy. He was practicing walking with what must be his new prosthesis, while using a small cane for assistance. She remembered the family well, as Joey was one of the few children treated here for bone cancer. Last year, he’d unfortunately suffered an amputation below the knee, but more importantly, shortly after that he was declared cancer free. To Zoey, there was little worse than a child battling cancer, and Joey’s parents had gone through all their savings and maxed out their health insurance. They’d been receiving funding from the Patch Lambert Grant since.

She was curious as to how Joey knew Archer. But Archer, for his part, wasn’t meeting Zoey’s eyes. Instead, he was fixated on Joey. Archer moved closer, ruffled the child’s hair, then bent low to fist-bump him.

“Hey, buddy. It’s good to see you again.”

“Hi, Joey!” Zoey waved. “How do you know my friend Archer?”

“Oh, because Mr. Archer has a bionic leg, just like mine!” Joey said.

After that, Zoey didn’t hear anything but a ringing in her ears. It seemed like the entire room had gone out of focus and her legs were made out of rubber. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. Her heart thudded in her chest like a jackhammer.

It wasn’t the way Archer would have chosen to tell Zoey, but in some ways, it was perfect. A full circle moment. There was no one quite like a child to let the cat out of the bag.

“That’s right, we’re both below the knee amputees and we both have a bionic foot,” Archer said.

Joey’s mother was smiling, the nurse was smiling, and Joey was beaming. Zoey, on the other hand, looked like a strong wind might blow her over. Her eyes were wide and fixed. He didn’t blame her—it was a shocking way to find out, sudden and unexpected. But this was heavenly timing in Archer’s opinion. From the mouth of an innocent child. The truth.

“That’s great,” Zoey said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to see someone about a check.”

Archer gave her a moment, realizing she needed it. He spoke with Joey and his mother for a few minutes, then excused himself. Wandering down the hall, he picked up Zoey’s trail, following the flowery scent he’d come to memorize. And then he found her, standing in the break room alone, holding a cup of coffee. Her hands were shaking, and with one of them, she brushed at her eyes.

Jesus, she was crying.

“Zoey. This is why I didn’t tell you,” Archer said, walking into the room. “You should not be sad about this. I am lucky. Don’t cry over me.”

She glanced up, confusion clouding her eyes, as if surprised he’d found her. Then anger flashed.

“You think I’m crying because you have a prosthetic leg? Damn it, Archer, I’m crying because you didn’t tell me!”

“Because I—”