Adam nodded. “That’s what we said. But the plate had a visible serial number, so we took a photo and made some phone calls.”

“Anything implanted into a person’s body has a serial number,” Diesel said quietly. This he knew from experience. “For traceability in case of a recall or other problem.”

Both men gave him measuring looks. “You know this how?” Deacon asked.

“Because I’ve got my share of metal plates and pins.” Diesel shrugged when their eyes widened. “Shrapnel. Anyway, that’s what they told me at the VA hospital. That every piece they put in me has a serial number. They keep my contact info, just in case, although I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a recall and I was never notified.” He didn’t place much trust in the VA hospital. His experience hadn’t been so good.

He felt the pressure on his chest before realizing he was rubbing the worst of his scars with the heel of his hand. He dropped his hand to his side, both men following the movement with curious eyes.

No, his experience hadn’t been good at all. The surgeons had done their best, he supposed, but in his case their best hadn’t been nearly good enough. Some days he almost forgot about the bullet they hadn’t been able to remove.

Almost.

It would kill him someday. He needed that day not to be today. He had work to do. Kids to help. And maybe a doctor to woo.

She’d said no again today, but her beautiful mismatched eyes had said yes. So he wouldn’t push. He’d wait patiently, just as he had for a year and a half. And if she never actually said yes, he’d still come whenever she needed his help.

Until the bullet moved. It wasn’t something he could change, so he tried not to worry about it. Yeah, right. Every day was a ticking clock.

“So,” he said, and Adam and Deacon returned their attention to his face, questions still in their eyes. “The kids. I know that the mother never stays to watch Josh practice. I know she’s late every week. I know she’s tried to come on to me in very inappropriate ways, despite being married.” He looked over his shoulder at the exam room. “Joshua said she threw a bowl at Michael’s head this morning. Michael said he ran six miles to pick his brother up.”

Both men lifted their eyebrows at that. “With a head injury?” Deacon asked.