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Chapter forty-six
Colt
Maren is waiting in the medical room.
She points at the table.
“Sit.”
I sit.
That gets her attention before anything else does.
She works through my hand, wrist, elbow, and neck. Grip. Sensation. Movement.
“Since Dallas?”
“On and off. More often lately.”
She looks at me.
I don’t give her a joke.
“Any weakness?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“January. Maybe before.”
Maren writes it down.
“Guerra’s seeing you tomorrow morning. We’re getting imaging and a full workup.”
“Okay.”
She studies me.
“No argument?”
“Would it work?”
“No.”
“Then first thing.”
“First thing.”
Silas is waiting in the hall when I step out.
“Office.”
“Still romantic.”
“Move.”
The folder is on his desk when I sit down.
