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her. Make sure she knew. Make sure she’d wait for him.
    She had to wait for him.
    Kale looked out the window when he woke again, checking the position of the sun before he looked at the clock. Hard to tell from here, but he’d slept a lot today, so it had to be afternoon. Yeah, after three. He needed to talk to the doctor before he was gone for the day.
    First, though, he took inventory. He maneuvered his hand around IV tubes and monitoring lines to lay his palm on his forehead. Dry. And miracle of miracles, cool. His mouth was a little gummy, but his throat wasn’t stuck to itself like it usually was when he woke up in here. He bet his breath was deadly, but that didn’t matter now. His stomach rumbled, and Kale smiled. Hunger. First time he’d wanted food since he got here.
    Now for the real test. He fumbled for the bed controls and held his breath while he raised the head of the bed into a full sitting position. His side twinged, but he didn’t have the burning, gut-deep pain from before. He forced himself to keep breathing while he tossed off the blanket and swiveled, much more carefully than the first time. When he pushed to stand, everything stayed right where it was supposed be.
    Oh, yeah. He was getting out of here. Now he just had to convince the doctor and the OIC.
    …
    Two days before Christmas, and Amber couldn’t figure out what to do with herself.
    Tonight, miracle of miracles, no one needed her. Everything on her to do list was done, and she was free until it was time to put on her red velvet Santa’s helper costume and hand out presents. But the emptiness of her house made her all too aware of the space inside her, so she dragged Rina out to Murphy’s, the downtown pub, hoping the company Christmas parties and celebrating singles would distract her. At minimum, it was an acceptable place to drink herself stupid.
    “You’re a great friend,” she told her cousin, who had endured dozens of whinefests over their decades-long friendship. “Thanks for coming along and not being all psychologic-y and stuff.” She pulled some of her frozen Brandy Alexander—her third—through a straw. Kirby, Murphy’s bartender, really knew how to make the best drinks, especially the kind that let you get drunk without trying.
    “Don’t thank me yet. It’s early.” Rina twisted in her tall chair to survey the crowd. “You see any out-of-towners? I don’t want to waste this dress.”
    “It’s a good dress,” Amber agreed. The plunging, overlapping neckline of brilliant blue silk showed off Rina’s assets without looking trashy. Rina slung a long, smooth leg over the other knee and let her matching stiletto hang off her toes. “You have sexy-approachable down pat. Wish I could do that,” she grumbled.
    “No, you don’t.” Rina smiled at a guy at the bar, but then sighed and turned back to the small round table. “Damn, that’s Fireman Fred.”
    “So?” Amber tried to squint past a group of women from the software company up the street.
    “Been there, yada yada.” Rina pulled a mozzarella stick from their basket and bit off a chunk. “He’s okay in bed, but too eager. Needs a lot of encouragement. I’m too tired for that.”
    Amber had forgotten who they were talking about. Oh, yeah. Fireman Fred, assistant chief of the west side fire company. He bought jeans from her sometimes.
    Rina checked her watch and leaned her head on her hand, elbow on the glossy table. “Look, I know you said you don’t want psychologic-y stuff, but you know you have to talk about this, right?”
    Amber stirred her drink with her straw, watching the air bubbles in the slush slide into different patterns. “Talk about what? It’s the same old stuff as every year.”
    “No, it’s not.” Rina met Amber’s gaze, and her eyes were kind, sympathetic.
    Crap. “You talked to Danny, didn’t you?” She didn’t wait for Rina’s nod. “I’m not talking about that.”
    “Okay.”
    Some of the tension inside Amber