Dodge met it. “Dodge Kingston. When did you two finally hitch up?”

“Before my first tour,” he said. “About a year ago.”

Dodge didn’t ask if he knew Ranger, figured it would come up if it needed to. “Congrats. Sorry I wasn’t there.”

“We eloped,” Larke said. “You and the boys were too hard to track down, and Dad already gave his blessing, so . . .”

She was being kind with her words. Truth was, he hadn’t a clue where Ranger, and especially Colt, had landed on the globe. And he didn’t ask. Just because they were triplets didn’t mean they were close. At least, not anymore.

“How bad is it?” He gestured with his head toward door number one.

“Dislocated shoulder, broken arm, a couple cracked ribs. One of them nicked his lung, though, and it collapsed. Moose and a team from Air One Rescue flew in to the crash site. Took them forever, but they did save his life.” She frowned. “But you know that. What, are you flying for them now?”

Dodge wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. Not really. Maybe. “Moose has my number and he called me.”

He left out the part where he’d gotten on a plane in DC and flown eight-plus hours before he’d let his brain kick in.

It wasn’t like his father wanted him around. Or like Dodge would swoop in and save the ranch, walk back into the life he’d longed for once upon a time.

Pick up where he left off with the girl he left behind.

Clearly, he needed a shower, breakfast, and coffee—although he’d given up the last one during his stint in Walter Reed, so maybe just tea. He’d promised his docs to keep his heart rate at a reasonable tick going forward.

Still, maybe he needed to offer Larke something of an explanation because she just looked at him, through him, clearly not believing him. But if he kept going with his explanation there’d be more judgment, questions, and who knew what else. He might even end up doing something he swore he’d never do.

Like return home.

Nope. His stupid impulses had done enough damage. “How long are you in town?”

“We’ve been here about ten days. Riley has about a week left on leave.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I should have gone with Dad.”

“Larke,” Riley said quietly, “he’s been flying by himself for years.”

Maybe he didn’t mean the indictment, but Dodge’s chest tightened anyway.

She glanced at Riley. “What? I know what I’m doing up there.”

A muscle ticked in Riley’s jaw.

Behind them, the door opened, and Dodge turned just as a doctor in her midforties walked out. She seemed no-nonsense, with short brown hair, seasoned eyes, and a lean frame. She wore a jacket over a pair of scrubs and held out her hand to Larke.