did you take?”
“Two. I only took two.”
“You got any more?” Katy asked.
“I want to file assault charges against her,” he said, glaring at Katy.
“I’ll get right on that,” Paul drawled, “just as soon as I finish filling out paperwork on your illicit drug purchase.”
Dylan swallowed hard, then bit his lip and closed his eyes, clearly wishing to be anywhere else.
Katy nudged him. “Once again, you got any more pills?”
“In my pocket.”
Gunnar reached in the kid’s pants pocket and pulled out three more tablets, definitely not Percocet. He sighed and shook his head. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
“Wow,” Katy said. “Talk about arrested development. You have any health problems, Dylan?”
“No.”
“So, you’ve decided to destroy a perfectly healthy body with whatever crap you can find on the street?”
“My body, my choice,” he said with a smirk.
“Knock it off, dumbass,” Gretchen growled, just as Katy leaned forward, fist clenched.
“You want another chest treatment?”
Dylan stiffened. “You can’t do that.” He peered up at Gunnar. “Can she?”
Gunnar exhaled, nice and loud for effect. He sure as hell hoped he hadn’t been this clueless at nineteen. “She can, but she won’t, because she’s a professional, and because her main priority is seeing to your health, even though you don’t seem interested in preserving that for yourself.” He glanced at Katy at he spoke, thinking they might at least share a grin over the kid’s stupidity, but she glared at him instead.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t call you, remember?” the kid snapped.
“You’re a jerk, Dylan,” Carly called out from the doorway. “Next time, take your drugs at your own house.”
“Thatta girl, Carly. You tell him,” Gretchen said as she stood and headed for the door. “I’ll get the gurney, Chief.”
“Yeah, load him up,” Gunnar said, stepping back to make room.
“Load me up? What the hell? I’m fine.”
“Oh, for cripes’ sake,” Katy hissed. She bent down, close to Dylan’s face. “You don’t even know what you took. Don’t you think you should go the hospital and see if there’s a problem?”
The kid drew back, clearly not sure what to make of Katy. “Wouldn’t I feel sick if there was a problem?”
“Not necessarily,” Jake said as he helped Gretchen get the gurney through the door. “Better safe than sorry, kid.”
“Fine,” Dylan huffed and gave an exaggerated eye roll.
“I need some air,” Katy said and pushed to a stand.
“We’re not finished here, MacBain.” Gunnar placed a careful hand on her arm. “Your participation is a requirement, not a suggestion.”
“Paul and Gretchen can handle it,” she said and shrugged away from his touch. “And didn’t I hear you say something about wanting to lend a hand?”
He pulled back like she’d bit him. For a second, he wondered if this call would have gone better if he hadn’t tagged along, but the frustration in her eyes told him otherwise. Katy had things to figure out, a good many of them, and as impossible as it felt for him to do so, if he wanted to keep life and limb safe, he best suck it up and get out of her way.
* * *
* * *
After the call, Katy found Gunnar by the fire pit, staring into the empty hood like a huge blaze crackled within. He looked a little sad, and somehow young, and for a split second she caught a glimpse of the boy he’d once been. Her heart squeezed, since she had no beef with that boy, and she felt pretty sure she’d triggered whatever sadness he struggled with. She slowed her steps, no longer quite sure what she wanted to say. A twig snapped beneath her boot, making them both startle.
“You need something?” Gunnar squinted up at her.
“Probably.”
“Do I need to make my question more specific?”
Katy shook her head. “I need to speak to you . . . officially. Do you want to go to your office?”
Gunnar looked over one shoulder and then the other. “This seems pretty private at the moment.”
She nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll be quick.”
As soon as she said that, though, the words turned to glue in her throat. Why had her life suddenly become this messy quagmire, a big, fat swamp of confusion between what she wanted and what she could actually handle? As if Gunnar’s face might hold the answer to that question, her eyes sought his, and she immediately wished they hadn’t. As the human embodiment of her quagmire, he was probably the very last person she needed to see right now.
Except that he was her boss. And she needed to quit her job. Which