Free A Texas Soldier's Family by CATHY GILLEN THACKER Page B

sure we should take Max to the emergency room?” she asked, as he started the drive to town. She couldn’t help but worry that she was overreacting, as she had a tendency to do when it came to her twelve-week-old son.
    Yet Max’s continued distress, his persistent crying, his absolute refusal to take his pacifier was real. As was the lack of milk in her breasts, the soreness of her tender nipples. Although none of that was a surprise, given how often he had been nursing in the last thirty-six hours.
    Garrett nodded confidently.
    He had taken the time to brush his teeth and splash some water on his face, as had she. He hadn’t shaved, and the rim of beard on his face gave him a ruggedly handsome look.
    “Lacey McCabe is the best pediatrician in the area. She agreed to meet us there, before her rounds. Make sure there’s nothing wrong.”
    “But you’re a physician. Can’t you tell?” Put my mind at ease right now!
    He cast her a brief, consoling look in the rearview mirror. “I’m an internist who specializes in traumatic injuries—and recovery—in soldiers. Max needs a pediatrician, and although it might be able to be handled over the phone, Lacey and I both agreed it would be better if he was seen.”
    Hope couldn’t argue with that.
    Plus, she appreciated Garrett’s protectiveness toward her son, which mirrored her own.
    “Besides,” he continued in a raspy growl. Finding the aviator sunglasses he’d hooked in the opening of his shirt, he slipped them on, obscuring his gorgeous blue eyes from view. “I’m emotionally involved.”
    Just that suddenly, something came and went in the air between them. The slightest spark of hope of all-out romance.
    Hope gave Max’s pacifier yet another try. To her relief, this time her son accepted it and began to suckle, his little lips working furiously.
    Needing to understand exactly what Garrett meant by “emotionally involved,” and appreciating the blissful silence that fell in the interior of her SUV, Hope asked, “You mean with Max?”
    Garrett’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. His voice dropped another notch. “With both of you.” Oblivious to the leaping of her heart, he kept his attention on the road. “A smart doctor never treats those he is close to—it’s too easy to let your feelings get in the way and overlook something you don’t want to see.”
    Like what? Hope wondered, feeling the weight of his concern.
    “Then this could be serious?” she probed nervously, as Max abruptly spit out his pacifier and continued his meh meh meh ...albeit a little more softly and a lot more hoarsely.
    She saw Garrett’s lips tighten in the rearview mirror, but when he spoke it was with a physician’s calm. “Yes, but there’s a much higher chance it’s not. Still, with a child this young, it’s just best not to take any chances.”
    Hope nodded and turned her attention back to her son, doing everything she could think to soothe him, but nothing worked. Not the touch of her hands, the motion of the vehicle or her voice. Not even the relaxing music when Garrett turned on the stereo. Max fussed the entire way, his hoarse cries breaking her heart—to the point that she was wiping away tears herself.
    Finally, they pulled into the emergency entrance of the Laramie Community Hospital and parked in a slot designated for ER patients. Her breasts aching—and empty—Hope struggled to pull it together. She was not going to let Max down even more. She was not going to cry.
    “We’ll get this taken care of in no time. Just hang in there,” Garrett said, his voice a tender caress.
    He leaped out to assist.
    Unfortunately, by the time Hope got Max out of his car seat he was in full temper, arching his back and wailing at the top of his lungs. Hoping Garrett could calm him, Hope handed her son over, then emerged from the car herself.
    To her chagrin, Max didn’t appear to want either of them to hold him. So Hope settled him back in her arms. Worse, his