Page 102 of Returned Mail

The door opened again, and I looked up to see Mia walking in with that smile that made everything in this sterile white room feel a little warmer. She had a bag from the cafeteria in one hand and was already pulling out what looked like contraband snacks.

“Oh,” I said, catching Mack's curious look.

“That's your accountant, right?” Mack asked and laughed.

Mia stopped mid-step, her eyes widening before she burst out laughing. “Your accountant? Really, George? You never clarified that? I'm going to smother you with that pillow.” Mia threatened, but she was smiling, her cheeks flushed pink.

“See, this is the kind of dedication you don't get from the regular accountants back home,” Mack said, clearly enjoying himself now. “Round-the-clock service, bedside manner⁠—”

“Okay, okay,” I cut in, reaching out to catch Mia's hand as she moved closer to the bed. “Mack, this is Mia. Mia, this is Mack, one of my team members and a giant pain in my ass.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” Mia said, extending her free hand to shake Mack's. “I've heard a lot about you.”

Mia nodded, and I felt something warm settle in my chest at how easily she fit into this, into my world. She squeezed my hand before letting go. “I was going to grab some coffee from the decent place down the street. Mack, do you want anything?”

“Coffee would be great, actually. Black, two sugars if they have it.”

“Got it. George, your usual?”

“Please.”

She grabbed her purse and headed for the door, pausing to look back at us. “Try not to let him overdo it while I'm gone. He's supposed to be resting.”

“Yes ma'am,” Mack said with mock seriousness.

The door clicked shut behind her, and for a moment, there was silence. I could feel Mack staring at me, could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“So.” He finally said. “Your accountant.”

“Shut up.”

“No, no, I'm just trying to understand the full scope of her services⁠—”

“Mack.”

He laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. But seriously, man. She seems great. And you...” He tilted his head, studying me with an expression that was far too knowing. “You look different.”

“I'm in a hospital bed. Of course I look different.”

“That's not what I mean.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You look happy. Giddy, even. Is this the emotionally unavailable sergeant finally becoming available? Should I alert the media?”

“Fuck off,” I said, but there was no heat in it.

“I'm serious! This is groundbreaking stuff. George Hale, the man who once told me that feelings were 'a waste of tactical energy,' is making googly eyes at his accountant.”

“I don't make googly eyes.”

“You absolutely do. It's disgusting. I love it.”

I flipped him off, which only made him laugh harder.

“I'm happy for you, man,” Mack said, his tone shifting to something more genuine. “Really. You deserve this. Someone who shows up, who stays. Especially after...” He trailed off, but I knew what he meant. After everything we'd seen, everything we'd been through. After all the ways this job tried to hollow you out from the inside. After Monica.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I'm pretty grateful to have her.”

“Pretty grateful? That's the most emotional thing I've ever heard you say.”

“And that's your cue to leave.”