holds eye contact for an uncomfortably long time. “Thanks for inviting me to poker night,” he says at last. “I had a good time.”
Despite the fact that he has yet to smile or laugh or resemble a human with a pulse, I kinda believe him.
“No problem.” I stand at the same time he does and wonder if I should shake his hand. “Glad you could join us.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Waving one meaty paw, he strides toward the door, pausing to pull on his black jacket. I watch him walk out the door, then pause at the bottom of the steps.
“Hey, doc?” Mark’s voice jerks my attention off Dante, and I turn to see him frowning. “You mind if I ask you a medical question?”
“Fire away.” I sit back down, glancing quickly out the door. Did Dante go left toward his own cabin, or right toward Izzy’s?
I catch Austin’s eye, doing my best to telegraph concern. The chief stands up and tosses his cards on the table. “I’m out,” he says as everyone else around the table gets to their feet. “Better go grab the kiddo.”
Brandon claps Mark on the shoulder. “Thanks for hosting again.”
I watch through the window as Austin heads toward Izzy’s place. Picking up his son, or checking on Izzy? Either way, it lets me relax, so I turn back to Mark. “What can I help with?”
“It’s Chelsea.” He scrubs a hand over his beard, Mark’s universal sign for discomfort. “I want to bring her things to make her stomach feel better, but she says all the usual stuff makes her queasy.”
“Yeah, pregnancy can mess with that, especially early on.”
“Right, so…I know it’s supposed to be about pickles and ice cream, but Chelsea doesn’t like pickles. You think capers would work?”
I love that food is Mark’s love language, or that he’s trying to use it to speak to his pregnant wife. “There’s no real medical science behind what women crave during pregnancy,” I say. “I had a patient who craved rubber.”
“Rubber?”
“Like tire rubber. Her wife found her chewing on a hunk of old tire and called me all concerned.”
“What’d you do?”
I shrug. “As long as she’s not actually swallowing it, I don’t see the harm. There are far worse things you could put in your mouth.”
“Huh.” Mark spends way too long considering that. “Guess I could just take her to the grocery store and let her point out things that sound good.”
“That sounds like a plan. She’s got an OB/GYN already?”
“Yeah. And lots of those prenatal vitamins.”
“Perfect. Sounds like you’ve got it covered.”
He scratches his beard again. “Yeah, I just—I want to do my part, you know? Besides knocking her up in the first place.”
“I wish I knew more patient spouses like you.” I clap Mark on the shoulder. “Seriously, man. You’re already a great dad to Libby, and you’re going to be an amazing one to the new baby.”
“Yeah?” There’s a hopefulness in his voice that surprises me. “I just don’t want to fuck it up.”
“You’re gonna do great.” I’m dying to get next door to check on Izzy, but I’m not a total asshole, so I take a few minutes to help gather plates. “Can I help you get these in the dishwasher?”
“Nah, it needs to be emptied.” Mark lumbers over to the counter with an armload of beer steins. “Go on, get out of here. Austin’s checking on her, but you’ll feel like shit until you do it yourself.”
“Thanks, man.” Not just for the dismissal, but for not minding that I’m hustling to his sister’s place. As I reach the door, I turn and face him. “Did you have Austin run a check on the guy?”
“Yeah.” Mark’s brow furrows. “Couldn’t find much, but it wasn’t tough to connect him to Izzy’s family. Guess he’s some kind of bodyguard or something?”
Or something rings in my mind as I nod. “Yeah. Jury’s still out on whether he’s dangerous.”
Mark nods. “I’m glad you’re looking out for her.”
It’s the closest thing I could get to brotherly approval of my relationship with Iz, and I can’t help feeling warm all over. “Thanks, man.”
I’m out the door in an instant, trudging through a thin crust of snow to reach Izzy’s front door. Austin’s car is gone, which means he already collected Brian and left. A thrill ripples through me at the thought of spending an evening alone with Iz.
But as I step up to the front door, I see two figures inside. Dante stands facing Izzy, hands clenched at his side. She’s