11 Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Read Online Free PDF Page A

in her mouth whet her appetite and she took a second one. He passed back her coffee and said nothing while she ate. Before she realized it, she finished both danish and part of the bagel. The cramping in her stomach eased and her hand stopped shaking.
    “Good.” Joe grinned. “More coffee?”
    Her cup was empty.
    She glanced down the hallway, but Noel wasn’t back. Maybe one more.
    “Okay. Please.”
    “On it.” He made her a fresh one, like the first and claimed his own cup. They sat together and she drank the hot, fresh brew with a sigh.
    “You must think I’m crazy.”
    “Nah. I know crazy. You’re a mom and you’re exhausted. Thanks for letting me help.”
    She blinked slowly. “Should I be the one thanking you?”
    “No, ma’am. You can thank me for the pizza and the game later. Football can really change the world.”
    She couldn’t help it, she laughed again. “If you say so.”
    “I do.”
    And he stayed with her until the nurse came back to say Libby was ready. She didn’t focus on it too much, but she felt better.
    A lot better.

 
     
    Chapter Three
     
     
    It was another two hours before Mrs. Carter and her daughter were ready to leave the hospital. Joe stayed with them the whole time. The taut air of fragility clinging to Melody’s face lightened when they talked about the most banal of subjects. She liked sports, but she didn’t really pay attention to them. She preferred more intellectual activities like Sudoku and crossword puzzles. She'd graduated high school, had a few college credits, but didn’t want to talk about why she hadn’t finished, or her husband, or anything involving the years leading up to her daughter’s birth.
    Her wedding ring wasn’t on her left hand, but a faint tan line told him that she’d worn one until recently and hadn’t spent enough time in the sun to erase the permanent impression. Exhaustion wore at her voice, sanding down any remnants of her Philadelphia accent. Frankly, she could have been from anywhere. He wanted to press her for answers but knew without even attempting it would be a mistake. She reacted to every stranger passing by—particularly male strangers. She withdrew tightly pressing back on the sofa, often turning to focus her attention on him rather than the nurse, doctor, or occasional patient and visitor.
    Abuse . Someone—most likely her husband—had created a well of fear, and she continued to drown in it.
    But no matter how battered and bent she seemed, she wasn’t broken. The doctors returned to confer with her and they threw out words like laparoscopic, mitral valve stenosis, and valve repair. They showered her in medical terms—none of which sounded good—and her shoulders straightened, her chin came up and the shadows of exhaustion fled from her pretty hazel eyes. She nodded, asked questions, and mulled over their answers. When the nurse passed the baby back into her arms, she gave them a tight smile and agreed to bring Libby in Monday morning.
    Surgery. Her baby needs life-saving surgery. Where the fuck is her family ?
    His would be everywhere. When he woke in the hospital at Bethesda, his entire family, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews and grandparents were all in attendance. His mother stayed with him throughout the first painful days when he couldn’t even sit up for fear of damaging his back further. She and his brother flew with him to Dallas, settled him into Mike’s Place for rehabilitation, and left only when they’d exhausted all their sick time and vacation leave.
    But his mom called damn near every day, and he texted with his siblings regularly. If he didn’t check in, they called him.
    So where the hell is her family ?
    Outrage and cool fury on her behalf settled in his gut, but he buried it. She needed calm—not anger. She wouldn’t react well to it. Call it instinct or observation, but whoever put that fear in her eyes hadn’t destroyed her—she was a survivor. However, survivors relied