Chapter 17

One month later

"Well, would you lookit what the cat dragged in!"

Chris lifted his head at the sound of Buck's greeting, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of Vin before he was surrounded by his teammates. He set down his pen and moved to stand in the doorway to his office, watching with satisfaction as Vin's cheeks flushed from all the attention.

"Vin! No one told me you were coming by!" J.D. stuck out his hand, and he and Vin proceeded to execute the elaborate shake that was comprehensible only to the two of them.

"That's 'cause we didn't know, kid." Buck inspected Vin, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Lookin' better every day, Junior. Them therapy sessions with the lovely Sandra are agreein' with you." He waggled his eyebrows.

Vin rolled his eyes. "Get yer mind outta the gutter, Bucklin. I been workin' my ass off."

"How those fingers comin' along?" Nathan asked. "You gettin' more mobility? Still havin' much pain?"

With a tolerant sigh, Vin held up his hand and flexed the fingers. Though some residual stiffness was obvious, even from a distance Chris could see he had nearly achieved full function.

"Still a mite clumsy," Vin said, "but it's gettin' there."

"If you'd like, I could show you a few exercises that would increase dexterity." Ezra flashed his gold tooth. "Ones I doubt your lovely therapist will have employed."

"'Preciate it, Ez."

"It's quittin' time, Friday night." Josiah rested a large hand on Vin's shoulder. "We were headed to the Saloon to grab some dinner. Care to join us, brother?"

"Could eat." Vin locked eyes with Chris as he spoke. "But I got a little business to take care of first."

There was an instant of silence as everyone registered the fact that Vin's "business" involved Chris, and then they began gathering their things and moving toward the elevator.

"We'll see you there, then," Buck called, punching the down button. "We'll save you boys some seats."

When the doors had finally shut on the boys' boisterous banter, Chris raised an eyebrow. "This official business?"

His expression unreadable, Vin nodded. "Reckon so."

"C'mon in, then. Have a seat."

Once behind his desk, Chris surreptitiously studied his friend. His stomach fluttered unpleasantly, and he resisted the urge to pop an antacid. Though he was pretty damn sure he knew what this was about, Vin was wearing a poker face worthy of Ezra.

"You come from the doctor?" Chris asked.

"Yep." Vin sprawled comfortably in the chair, his legs crossed at the ankles.

When he didn't volunteer anything more, Chris sighed. "How'd that go?"

"Pretty good." He tipped the chair on its back legs, rocking a little.

"You look like you're finally getting some sleep."

Vin shrugged. "Still havin' bad dreams, but they ain't comin' every night."

"You got your appetite back yet?"

"Put on a few pounds."

And that was the point where Chris's limited supply of patience ran out. "Damn it, Vin, you'd make the Sphinx look chatty. You got something to say to me, or not?"

"Reckon I do."

"Then why the hell aren't you talking?"

One corner of Vin's mouth turned up in a lopsided grin and his blue eyes twinkled. "Just like seein' if I can make that vein in your forehead pop out."

It'd been too damn long since he'd seen this Vin--the mischievous prankster who'd changed Buck's ring tone to "Macho Man" and superglued all of Ezra's poker chips together.

Swallowing down the surge of emotion, Chris made a show of narrowing his eyes. "That won't be the only thing around here that's throbbing if you don't start flapping your gums."

"All right, all right. Cranky bastard." Vin reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope bearing Chris's name. He fingered it for a moment before tossing it onto the desk.

Chris's heart lurched, and at first he could only stare at the innocent white rectangle. With a sideways glance at Vin, he picked it up and slid his finger under the flap, removing a single sheet of paper. As he read, a smile blossomed and took over his face. "Doc thinks you're ready to come back." He peered at Vin over the top of the page.

"Yep."

Chris set aside the paper and braced his forearms on the blotter. "And how 'bout you, Pard? What do you think?"

The laughter left Vin's eyes and the chair dropped back to the floor with a soft thump. "Was a time I didn't think I'd ever be ready."

Chris nodded. He knew Vin had been wrestling with the idea of quitting. When he'd first seen the envelope, he'd feared it contained a resignation. He stood, walking around to lean against the front of his desk. "And now?"

Gazing out the window, Vin massaged the fingers of his left hand. It was a gesture Chris had seen often over the past month; one he doubted Vin was aware of.

"Guess I finally remembered I love this damn job--even if it means workin' with six ornery cusses who'd try the patience of a saint." He looked at Chris, his eyes bright. "I ain't had too many things in my life worth fightin' for. And I'll be damned if I'll let that sonuvabitch Malone steal one of 'em."

It felt as if a weight had been lifted from Chris's heart. "Glad to hear it. Wouldn't be the same around here without you watching our backs."

Vin quirked him a grin. "'S a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it."

Chris sobered. "I'm proud of you, Vin."

A flush crept up Vin's neck, and he tucked his chin to his chest. "No reason to be."

"You're wrong. A lot of guys couldn't've made it past everything you've gone through." Chris shook his head. "Not sure I would have."

"Bullshit." Vin's gaze was incredulous. "You're the strongest person I know, Chris. Hell, you're the reason I--" He broke off, his voice husky. "I wouldn't've made it through the last two months without you."

Locking forearms, they stared at each other--everything expressed in that iron grip. The moment was broken when Chris's phone rang. "Ten dollars says it's Buck, wondering where we are," he said.

"More likely J.D. doin' Bucklin's dirty work."

They shook hands, and Chris punched the button to put it on speaker. "Hello?"

Clinking glasses and the low murmur of voices filtered through the speaker before J.D.'s mile-a-minute chatter blocked them out. "Hey, Chris, what's taking you guys so long? We've got a pitcher of beer, and Inez just brought over some nachos. We're trying to save you some, but I'm starving. You are still coming, aren't--" He cut off as a familiar voice mumbled in the background. "Buck says to tell you the beer's getting warm and the food's getting cold." More mumbling. "And whatever Vin's business is, it concerns the rest of us, too."

"Tell Buck next time he's got something to say to me he can call me himself," Chris said, ignoring Vin's smirk. "We'll be there in five."

He hit the disconnect button and stood, reaching for his jacket. "Let's go. We wouldn't want to keep Buck waiting."

When they reached the doorway, Vin stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "Think you've forgotten something."

Chris frowned. "Yeah? Like what?"

With a smirk, Vin held out his hand, palm up. "A bet's a bet, Cowboy."

Grumbling, Chris pulled the last ten from his wallet and slapped it into his friend's palm. "I had plans for that."

Vin tucked the bill into his pocket with a grin. "Me, too. I'm havin' dinner with the lovely Sandra tomorrow night."

"Your physical therapist? The one Buck's been mooning over?" When Vin nodded, Chris laughed out loud. "You know it's gonna kill him when he finds out."

"Well, hell, Chris, why do you think I'm waitin' for just the right moment? Some things just have to be savored."

"Yeah. They do." His throat suddenly tight, Chris slung an arm around his friend's shoulders. "It's good to have you back, Vin."

"Good to be back, Cowboy." Mischief took over Vin's smile, and he tipped his head at the elevators. "Now how 'bout we go break the news to Bucklin?"

Chris grinned. "Let's ride."

Finis