The Medic's Homecoming

“Fantastic. Welcome home.” There was that pretty and contagious grin again. He felt dumb smiling this much so early in the morning, but, there you go, he was. “Then I guess I’ll see you around,” she said.

He nodded, wondering why he’d bothered to bug her. What was the point?

“Great!” She turned, tossing her ponytail, and resumed running. His gaze followed her long, smooth strides for a few seconds.

Without looking back she lifted her arm and waved, as if she knew he was still there. Watching.

For a moment, he’d felt like that kid he used to be, the one full of bravado, pretending to take on the universe, not like the world-weary dude he’d turned into.

“I’m glad you’re home, Lucas,” she called out two house-lengths away.

He cupped his hands around his mouth. “You run like a girl.”

She gave a single-finger salute and picked up her stride. It made him laugh, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed.

You know what? Maybe he was glad to be home.

Monday afternoon, after performing all of the basic duties for his father and setting him free in the wheelchair, he’d caught his sister making plane reservations to return home on Saturday. It only made sense. She worked as an RN in Oregon and couldn’t stay forever. But was he ready to take on the whole show—to be nursemaid, chauffeur, cook and delivery boy?

Lucas wandered out to the garage with his new best friend, Bart, hot on his trail. Well, best friend since he’d shared some of his peanut butter sandwich with him at lunch. Lost in tinkering with his Mustang, he’d enjoy the solitude for what few days were left before Anne went home. Time flew by, and soon it was late afternoon and he heard Anne scraping the grill and firing up the barbecue.

“Annie-belle, could you throw another shrimp on the barbie?” Kieran, using his worst Australian accent, sounded really close. Lucas shook his head. He had to hand it to his father—he never gave up. And somehow he had gotten the wheelchair out to the garage all by himself. “I’ve invited Jocelyn for dinner.”

Jocelyn?

Lucas pretended he hadn’t heard. Fortunately, since being cooped up in the house the past month, Dad had the attention span of someone with ADD hopped up on caffeine. Kieran’s melancholy gaze had already drifted to the totaled Harley motorcycle parked in the corner of the garage.

“It’s a crying shame, isn’t it?” Kieran said.

“Most definitely.”

“Too bad your specialty isn’t motorcycles instead of Mustangs.”

“I used to know a guy named David in auto shop who loved bikes. Want me to look him up for you?”

“Your mother would divorce me if I ever got back on one of those babies.”

“You’ve got a point.”

“Hey, let me run something by you,” Kieran said, shifting to yet another topic as he rolled his motorized wheelchair into the garage.

“I want you to help out Jocelyn with our annual athletic department fund-raiser.”

“Dad, I’m really not interested in …”

“I need you to help me, Lucas. I can do all the phoning and can make contacts with vendors and solicit donations, but I need you to be my legs.” Dad looked earnest, the corners of his blue eyes crinkled and staring Lucas down. “Jocelyn’s great. But the thing is, she doesn’t think she can sub for me as coach because she lost her track scholarship when she was at the university and she’s insecure. She needs help with the fundraiser and track. And that’s where I need to throw her a crumb—you. Not that you’re a crumb.”

This was the first Lucas had heard about Jocelyn bombing out of her scholarship. Hmm. She bombed out. He slacked. Maybe he and Jocelyn had more in common than he ever thought.

“This is our big fund-raiser for the entire year. I need someone to watch over Jocelyn, help her out and report back to me. Someone to be my eyes and ears until I can be there myself.”

“Your snoop, you mean.”

“That’s just an added bonus.” Kieran looked serious. “I really need your help. She needs your help. The Whispering Oaks track team needs your help. I’m not sure I’m ever going to be able to be head coach again, and this team has lots of potential.”

“I feel so special.” Lucas put splayed fingers over his chest.

The old man was laying it on pretty thick. Despite himself, Lucas listened with great interest, wondering how he’d let himself get sucked into the plan. Oh, right. He was the coach’s son.

As he listened to his dad, Lucas stuck the key into the ignition of the Mustang, turned it and after a few rum-rum-rums, a tingle of excitement bled out from his chest as the engine almost turned over before moaning like a distressed horse.

“I thought you already jumped the battery with my cables,” Kieran said.

“I did one better. I bought a new one,” Lucas said. “It started okay earlier. Maybe it’s the alternator.” If he turned out to be right about the alternator, as soon as he cashed his last check he’d buy a new one, which was no easy feat when dealing with classic cars. He’d have to get online tonight and research a few possibilities. Good thing he’d saved up substantially during his army stint because the car could suck him dry. In the meantime, he’d have to wait to take his baby for a test-drive.

Lucas shut the hood and wiped his hands, turning in time to see Jocelyn walk up. She wore tan cropped pants, double-layered tank tops in bright yellow and dark orange, flashy gladiator sandals and even had a pedicure complete with a tiny flower on each big toe. Nice.

“Hi, Lucas,” Jocelyn said, losing her step on the gravel. She opened her arms, and he gave her a quick one-arm hug, feeling uncomfortable. Seeing her now was nothing like the other day when it was just the two of them. Anne was bound to make a big deal out of them meeting up again. His dad wanted him to help her coach. The whole situation made him tense. The last thing he needed was pressure over anything. Not in his state.

Jocelyn stepped back uncertainly. “How are you?” she asked.

“Fine. Just fine.” He glanced at the ground, molars pressed tight. “I hear you’re house-sitting for your parents.”

“Yeah, they’re finally taking that RV road trip they’ve always dreamed about.”

“There she is,” Kieran said, rolling out of the garage, Bart tugging on the knotted rope in his hand.

“You wanted to talk to me, Coach Grady?” Jocelyn asked. To Lucas, she sounded relieved to have a purpose for being there.

Lucas chuckled. “He’s got big plans for the fundraiser this year. How are you at being micromanaged?”

“I’m right here and I can hear you,” Dad said, droll as ever.

In jest, Lucas flashed her a warning glance. “Let me know if you need backup.”

“That’s the last time I run my game plans by you,” Kieran muttered, obviously unfazed by Lucas’s jab, maybe even enjoying the guy banter.

“I guess I’d better see what you’ve got in mind.” Jocelyn tossed Lucas a playful look, stepped behind the wheelchair and rolled it toward the back door, which had a makeshift ramp. She glanced over her shoulder and mouthed “thanks.”

“Good luck.” He raised a brow and enjoyed the color tinting her cheeks when she smiled.

“Don’t listen to him, Jocelyn,” Kieran said, sounding anything but perturbed.

He watched Jocelyn push his father into the house, liking the sway of her hips, then glanced up to find Anne watching him. Yeah, snoopy big sisters noticed stuff like that.

“Aren’t you supposed to be barbecuing?” he said.

Once Kieran and Jocelyn were well inside the house, Anne used her playground whisper. “She is so adorable, don’t you think?”