Jo lay on the bed in the clinic, watching Zack hook up her IV. She was drowsy and comfortable, her pain managed and almost non-existent thanks to whatever drugs Zack had given her earlier.
He checked something with the tube, then looked down at her with a reassuring smile. His long blond hair reminded her of Mac and his facial scars reminded her of Scars; she guessed that he’d suffered something awful in Iraq, but she had no intention of asking.
Not ever.
“Doing OK?” he asked her, his dark eyes warm. “Any pain?”
“None,” she said, her voice a bit dreamy. Maybe she was stoned and if so, she was totally cool with that. “I feel good.”
“You should do.” He took off his gloves and threw them away. “I gave you more than enough painkillers to make you sleep. Just relax and let your body give
