Page 115 of Wild Horses on the Mountain

“No.”

Jodie waited.

Mac glanced at her. “You’re going to make me tell this whole thing, aren’t you?”

“I’m not making you do anything.”

Right. He gave her a soft smile and was rewarded with one in return.

“I wasn’t ready to be done serving,” he said. “The RCMP was hiring. I applied and they hired me.”

Jodie blinked. “Just like that?”

“Not exactly just like that. There are a few hoops. But the Mounties cleared me,” he said. “That’s the thing. Their doctors looked at the same file and said fine.” He tugged on the stray thread.

“So that helped?”

“Yeah.” He thought about it. “Mostly.” Because passing the medical had felt like getting a piece of himself handed back.

See? You’re fine.

“And Depot isn’t a spa, Jodie. Six months. Drill, PT, fitness testing, the works, and I was thirty-one years old starting at the bottom again with people a decade younger than me.” Mac smiled faintly. “That was humbling.”

“I bet you were obnoxiously good at it.”

He laughed softly so as not to wake anyone around them. “Eventually.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Fine. I was reasonably good at it.”

Jodie gave him a look.

“Okay, I was good.”

“I knew it.” Her smile stayed for another second before fading.

“I could still run. Still fight. Still work a double and go again. I did the job. I did general duty first. Then federal policing. Different work than the Regiment, but it mattered.” He rubbed his palm over his knee. “Nobody cared that I had to be smart about heat. If it got ugly, I drank water, took a few minutes, found some shade if I could. Nobody looked at me like I was broken.”