What the hell? Hawk looked down and snorted. Aric was hiding behind him with a firm grip on his jeans. “Hey, kid. That’s Doc Grayson. He’s okay.” Hawk rested his hand on Aric’s shoulder, feeling only bone. No meat on the boy at all. “I liked talking to him when I was little.”

That was a stretch of the truth. Under the guise of searching for herbs, Grayson had taken Hawk out into the forest for long, long walks. On a later visit, the shrink wanted photographs of the bald eagles—because he’d learned that Hawk loved the big predators.

More long walks. Sneaky bastard.

“It’s good to see you, Hawk,” Grayson said. “You appear well.”

Hawk shook hands and ignored the way the doc studied his face. “And you. This is Aric. Frankie’s godson.”

“Ah.” Zachary nodded at Aric…and didn’t press further. “Join me on Mako’s deck? I could use something cold.”

“Sure.” Hawk hadn’t considered when he made the early morning call that maybe Grayson’s conversations would include him as well as Aric. Fuck.

Still, he wanted Grayson’s opinion. Surely, the doc would say the kid would be better off with women. With someone nice. With anyone but a fucked-up, antisocial vet.

With Aric not venturing more than a few inches from his side, Hawk went into Mako’s kitchen and brought out sodas for all three of them. He took a chair beside Grayson.

Any other kid would crawl up on a chair. Aric remained standing. Yeah, it was a lot easier to flee that way.

With a snort, Hawk lifted the boy onto his lap, opened a can, and handed it to him. “Use both hands.”

Watching Grayson with wary eyes, Aric took a sip.

His shocked expression made the doc chuckle. “I doubt your religious militia allowed carbonated beverages.”

“Seems not.” Amusement roused as Aric took another sip, so very carefully, and blinked. “Like the bubbles, kid?”

Aric looked up with eyes the clear blue of an autumn sky. His lips tilted barely upward as he nodded.

Grayson leaned back in his chair with a tired sigh—and Hawk felt a twinge of guilt. The man must’ve jumped a plane right away to get here so fast. It would help that Rescue was four hours later than Tampa. Still, long fucking flight, long fucking day.

“I spoke with the doctors at Kirsten’s hospital and—”

“Kirsten?” Hawk frowned.

“Kirsten Traeger—Aric’s mother. I believe Frankie calls her Kit.” Grayson disliked nicknames. He could be almost as stubborn as the sarge.

“Got it. What’d the docs say?”