Hot Nights with the Fireman (18 page)

“Okay. My bad. I'll call you next time.”

Before she could retort that there better not be a next time, the curtain slid to the side and a nurse walked in. “One more BP check and we'll be getting you discharged and back out with your friends,” she said. She bustled around the room, gathering up equipment and a rolling cart with electronics.

Valerie made to stand off the bed, but the nurse shooed her back. “You're fine where you are. I can get his vitals with you sitting there.”

Silently she watched Jason get a final checkup. “The doctor will be along any minute to get you officially out of here.”

“Thanks,” Jason said, keeping his eyes on her, not the nurse. As soon as the curtain closed behind the nurse, he eyed her. “Are we good?”

She stared back for a long second, repeating a silent mantra in her head that he was alive and whole. Her hand remained in contact with his body, because she irrationally worried that if she let go, she'd lose it. Touching him anchored her, and she was able to tamp down her fears and speak in a relatively calm voice. “Yeah. We're good. I was just really scared when I didn't hear from you and you didn't answer your phone.”

“Oh, Val.” He threw his arms around her shoulder and yanked her into his chest.

“Ow,” they both said at the same time.

“My shoulder,” she said, sitting back and rubbing the spot his cast had bumped.

“My arm,” he said, gingerly holding his cast straighter.

The door to the hospital room opened again and a young doctor with a clipboard walked in. “Okay, Mr. Moore. It's time to get you out of here.” She stared at the clipboard and acted as if she didn't see Val in the room. The doctor scrawled some things on a piece of paper and placed three prescription sheets on the rolling cart next to the bed. “The cast stays on for six weeks. And no work.”

Jason groaned. “I hate medical leave.”

Val's eyes widened and the fear was back nearly suffocating her in its depth. “How many times have you been on medical leave?”

“I've been a firefighter for more than ten years. It happens.” He smiled up at the doctor. “Thanks, Doc. How's my buddy José doing?”

The doctor frowned. “Sorry, privacy laws don't allow me to release medical information without written consent, and what makes you think I have tabs on what's happening upstairs?”

Jason kept staring at the woman, who finally sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “He's alive, but he inhaled a lot of smoke. Third-degree burns on his neck.”

Valerie's grip on Jason's thigh tightened at the words
third-degree burns
. She knew intimately the kind of pain José was in now. Her brush with fire had happened more than twenty years ago, but it didn't stop her from remembering the pain. Not to mention the fear and shame. At least her own scars could stay hidden. If José's were on his neck, he'd be showing them off to the world on a daily basis.

A tear dripped down her cheeks, and she turned away on the pretense of looking for a tissue.

“Thanks for telling me, Doc.”

“You're welcome. Now go rejoin your crew in the waiting room.” Finally she turned and nodded at Valerie, who was half hiding her face behind a tissue.

She surreptitiously wiped her eyes. “Has someone called José's wife?” she asked as the door shut behind the doctor. José was likely in a lot of pain. He'd need support from his family, just like she'd needed. Only she'd woken from her pain to discover only her father remained and that Mom had not made it out of the fire. More tears. More tissues.

If Jason thought her reaction was over the top, he didn't say a word.

Jason slowly swung his legs off the side of the bed. “Sure, the captain called.”

“What about your parents? Did anyone call them?” Her voice didn't sound at all calm.

He stood and glanced back at her where she still sat cross-legged on the bed. “Why would anyone call
my
parents?” He held up his cast. “For this minor boo-boo?”

“It's
not
minor,” she said sharply. “You could've been killed.” Jason narrowed his eyes at her, but finally spun and presented her with his back.

“Help me?”

She swallowed hard, tossed the tissue in the trash, and rose and yanked on the strings holding the flimsy hospital gown together. His clothes were folded into a large plastic bag on the rolling cart. She tugged the bag open and shook out a white undershirt. It was still damp with sweat. She pulled it over his head for him, standing on tiptoe to reach. She ran her gaze over every inch of visible skin, checking for burns or bruises. Other than the need for a good long shower, he looked hale and hearty. Thank God.

Together they worked to get him fully dressed and ready to head out upstairs to the hospital waiting room with the rest of the crew. A large part of her wanted to find an opening to excuse herself and head home. Yet an equally large part was feeling terrified solidarity. She felt as if she owed it to Jason and José to stay. Even though neither of them knew her internal struggle, it felt like the right thing to do was to stay.

“Moore.”

“Jason.”

A chorus of greetings met them as they walked hand in hand from Jason's private hospital room to the public lounge. No one commented on their obvious couplehood. Very little talking was happening at all. An air of despondency and exhaustion had settled over the group as a whole. Valerie glanced out the window and saw that the afternoon sun was pouring into the waiting area and it would be dusk soon. The firefighters in the waiting area had been off duty and had obviously rushed to the hospital when they'd heard news. They'd likely sit here today until their next shift started. They could use a break.

Unfortunately, no break was in sight, but she could offer sustenance. “I'm going to pick up some food,” she announced. She wished she hadn't dropped the entire platter of burritos on the station floor now. She could've used them. Turning to Jason, she pushed him gently toward a chair. “Stay here. I'll be back in a few.”

Her generosity was really self-serving. By going on a food run, she got a much-needed break to find her equilibrium and breathe deeply for the first time in hours.

A while later she was back with bags of sub sandwiches and a vat of coffee. One or two of the crew were gone and a new face here or there was collapsed in a chair. She knew Jason wasn't going anywhere until José was deemed stable.

Silently, she handed out turkey or meatball subs to everyone then settled next to Jason with her own sandwich.

“Thanks,” he said. “This was really nice of you.”

“Of course,” she said simply, and took a bite of the sandwich, which tasted like unflavored dough. Food in a hospital always did. She didn't know why. Nevertheless, everyone in the group sat chewing in silence as if eating the sandwich were part of the job assignment. The night stretched on.

Every so often someone got up to stretch or change chairs or use the bathroom. It was a mostly silent waiting game. Her dad had done this for days on end. He'd sat in the waiting room alternating between anxiety and total grief. She'd have to thank him again.

At one point the dullness was broken by the arrival of José's wife. She'd been at work, and didn't have the kind of job that would let her off without docking her pay. Valerie's heart went out to her as the woman spoke to some crewmembers then raced to José's room with her infant clutched in her arms.

She glanced at Jason, who had his feet up on the chair opposite and head back with eyes closed. His newly broken arm rested on the seat next to him. Was this what it was like, being a firefighter's significant other? It had all been sexy fun and games until now, but this…this was unbearable. He'd said most women split when shit got real. She didn't like being lumped in with them, but she wasn't like most women. She had real and valid fears surrounding firefighters.

She didn't know how the others stood this. She was right back to being in a hospital, only this time on the outside of the patient room.

“You should go,” Jason suddenly said, opening his eyes and rolling his head to look at her. “You don't have to be here all night. You have work tomorrow. And you want to move back into your apartment.”

“Of course I'll stay,” she heard her mouth say, but her brain was already in the parking lot pulling out.

Jason grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth for a kiss on her knuckles. “You're amazing,” he said, keeping hold of her hand. She gave his a squeeze.

“You need me. I'm here,” she said. Inside, her stomach churned and her brain protested the idea of being here another second. The fact that it was José and not Jason in danger was the only thing keeping her in her seat and not jumping out of her skin like a wild woman. The overly loud clock on the wall ticked on, marking off hours with all the speed of a sloth.

Her back hurt from sitting in the chair, her eyes hurt with unshed tears, and her heart hurt at the thought that one day in the future it could be her racing in to see Jason badly injured. They'd gotten off light today with only a broken arm.

At four in the morning, she could take it no longer. She was going to start running and shrieking like a mad woman if she didn't get home. She unclasped her hand from Jason's; they'd slept as best they could hand in hand. “I'm heading home,” she whispered. “Don't wake up,” she said when he started to stir. She had to be at work in four hours for a meeting, which would never happen unless she got at least an hour of a power nap.

She made it to the elevator before he caught up. “Val, I…” He stopped a foot from her, looking tired and rumpled, but still delectable. “I just wanted to say thanks. You didn't have to be here. You're not a wife or a crewmember, and…well, thanks. It meant a lot. To the team and to me.”

She swallowed and tried to formulate an answer, but her brain was covered in cotton wool from lack of sleep. “It's fine. I was happy to help.” Her words sounded false, and Jason looked worried.

“It's not always like this,” he said. “Injuries like José's don't happen a lot.”

How dare he say something like that to her. She knew better. “They happen enough,” she said sharply. “It's terrifying. One day I could kiss you good-bye on the way to work and that might be it. I'd get a call a few hours later.”

“Don't say that.” His expression was crestfallen and hurt. “Not to be a statistician, but there are no rules in life. Anything could happen to anyone.”

She knew he had a point, but it didn't help to hear it. She hated the randomness of life. She always had. It was why she was such a control freak. It didn't take a degree to know why.

“Fine, I won't say it, but you know it's true,” Jason said.

She couldn't answer. Her finger poked the elevator call button violently. One thing that wasn't random in life, you could count on an elevator to be slow as molasses when you really needed it. And when you wanted to linger before leaving someone, the elevator doors would cooperate and open straightaway. “I'm going home,” she said, refusing to look at Jason.

His hand came down gently on her shoulder. “I'll call you later.”

She ignored the question in his statement. She didn't know yet whether she wanted him to call. It had all happened too quickly. Last night she'd been terrified and devastated at the possibility of Jason hurt on the job.

The endless reality of sitting in a waiting room, relieved that your loved one was all right, but armed with the too terrible knowledge that next time they might not be, was too much. “I'm not supposed to feel this way,” she blurted out, giving the elevator button one last poke then spinning to face him.

“Feel what way?” he asked. The wear and tear of his injury was starting to show. Grooves bracketed the corners of his lips and the dark shadow of a beard made him look exhausted and worn out, which he probably was.

“Never mind,” she said, not having the heart to argue with him. “Go take a painkiller and try to get a good night sleep. José's family is here now, you should probably go home.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I will.”

She knew he wouldn't leave until his chief ordered him out.

“I want to know what you meant by saying you weren't supposed to feel this way,” he said.

The elevator chimed and the doors parted before she had to answer his question. She stepped in and faced him. He made no move to follow her into the confined space. “You were right before. This was supposed to be a fling,” she said. “I'm not supposed to love you.”

The doors shut on her parting words, giving Jason no chance to respond. It didn't matter. She had to end this thing between them. It had become too serious too quickly. Jason was the man to initiate her back into a sex life after being celibate for so long. But it had clearly morphed into something more than a fling. She didn't know if she was cut out for this life.

Telling people her boyfriend was a firefighter, and admiring his strong body, was all fun and games until the reality of his job hit home as it had in the past twenty-four hours.

O
perating on fumes, she zombie-walked to her car and got in. Luckily this early on a Monday morning gave her ample room on the roads. She passed less than ten cars on the fifteen-minute drive home. She could've passed a presidential motorcade and not noticed, she was that consumed by her whirling emotions of the past twenty-four hours. She'd gone from the high of waking up in Jason's bed with a love note to the low of seeing him injured in the hospital.

Anyone who thought twenty years was enough time to get over a trauma was egregiously wrong. Every second at the hospital last night had been worse than her own experience in a burn center. She'd had the blessing of being unconscious or on serious painkillers the first go-round. She'd also had the blessing of being a young child. Children didn't understand they weren't indestructible, though she'd had a crash course. Last night, she'd been awake and aware for every agonizing second.

Finally, she pulled into the driveway of her parents' home, thinking only of her bed and getting between the sheets and sleeping for a week. Unfortunately, she had an hour.

She pushed open the front door and stumbled inside, headed for her room, and collapsed into her bed.

At six o'clock that evening, Jason pulled up to the Wainwrights' home. In the driveway he could see an unfamiliar car parked in front of Valerie's. Valerie stood near it, her back to the street. She wasn't alone. A man, about his height, with light blond hair and dressed in a collared shirt and well-worn jeans, hefted a large suitcase into the trunk of Valerie's car. He was too close to Valerie for Jason's liking. He acted as if he had every right to be near her. Jason thought it looked like Brian from her office, and had to force himself not to drive his truck over the lawn and into Brian.

Valerie smiled up at the guy then walked into the house, never seeing Jason in the street. His gaze was so intent on the door, he missed the fact that the guy, who looked like a model for all things preppy, was striding up the driveway toward him.

He opened his window a crack, not missing the way the dude's lip curled as he took in the interior of his truck. “Nice ride,” Brian said.

“Fuck off,” Jason said. After the last twenty-four hours of his life, he didn't have it in him to be polite. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm here to help Valerie out since you can't. You can e-mail me a thank-you note later.” The words were friendly, but it was clear this asshole Brian had seen his chance with Valerie and was trying to make a move. Jason did his best not to reach through the open window and clock Brian with his plaster cast.

The front door to the house opened and Valerie came out with an armful of dresses on hangers. Jason jumped out of his car to go help her, but Brian got to her first.

“Jason, what are you doing here?”

“I'm here to help you move. As promised.”

“But your arm…Brian was nice enough to offer to help when he heard what happened.”

“That was nice of him.” The look he threw the guy was nothing resembling nice. Valerie didn't notice as she was looking anywhere but at him. What the hell was going through her mind? He had no idea. She'd fled from the hospital, leaving him with parting words about love. Did she really think he was going to let that go? It looked as if she hoped he would.

“I'm going to get more stuff,” she said.

“I'll help,” he and Brian said in unison.

“No thanks. I got it.”

She spun and practically sprinted back into the house.

“A word of advice, Fireman Sam,” Brian said, looking from Jason's truck to the elegant backdrop of the Wainwrights' two-story house. “Do you really think you have a future with Valerie? She's out of your league.”

“And you think she's in yours?” he asked, because the truth was, he knew Val was out of his league, but he wanted her anyway.

“Yes,” Brian said calmly. “She and I make sense.”

Jason kept silent, not wanting to cause trouble for Valerie at the office by clocking this guy.

Valerie emerged again from the house with multiple cloth grocery bags slung over her shoulders. This time Jason won the race to her and pulled the bag straps away from her shoulders to haul them to the car. His damn broken arm felt like tiny knives were digging into bone with each movement, but he ignored it to help his woman.

“Jason, stop. You're going to make your arm worse.”

“I'm fine,” he gritted out.

Val grabbed the shoulder of his healthy arm. “Seriously. Stop. Brian is here to help. You should go home and rest. I'll call you later.” He tried to look at her face, but she busied herself arranging bags in her trunk. “Brian. You can follow behind me.”

Jason leaned in to kiss her and somehow got her smooth cheek instead of her lips. “Call me later, or I'll call you.”

“Yep.” Her smile was too bright as she lowered into her Audi and backed out of the drive after Brian.

Jason was left alone in front of Valerie's home wondering mostly where things stood between them after she'd left the hospital. Valerie didn't know it, but he'd spent a good part of the night watching her. She hadn't slept well, but thought she'd hidden it. Every so often, she'd look around the hospital waiting room and frown. Or sigh. Or bite her lip. He'd tried to send her home, but she was having none of it and had insisted on staying. He wished he could rewind the last day and have a redo. For starters, he'd call her or have someone call her from the hospital and tell her he was fine and she should stay home.

It had been way too soon in their relationship to introduce her to the ugly side of his job. She was inherently a decent person, so of course she'd stayed at the hospital, but she hadn't wanted to. Not really. She hadn't hidden her true feelings very well. He'd been too hopped up on painkillers to manage the situation competently.

He'd left the hospital about an hour after she had. His chief had kicked him out. He'd been given a ride home and had showered and slept, knowing he'd make more of a muck of things if he tried to talk to her without those comforts.

Well, now he was here, and he might've messed things up more.

Valerie stared at the numbers on her cell phone and curled into a tighter ball, huddled back against the pillows on her bed. It was nearly bedtime, and her eyelids felt as if they were carrying the load of a kettlebell, having spent the night in a hospital waiting room chair, going to work then moving her belongings back to her apartment. She had to keep awake a few more minutes because she'd told Jason she'd call.

She'd been fighting the feeling of dread all day, because she'd known this moment was coming. She was calling to break up with Jason. It was a cruel thing to do, especially over the phone, but if she tried to do it in person, she'd waver and end up in bed with him. She should've done it this afternoon, but couldn't in front of Brian.

Taking a breath, she dialed his number. “Jason?” she whispered, when she heard the click signifying he'd picked up.

“Valerie? I can barely hear you. Is everything all right?”

His deep voice washed over her, giving her comfort, even as she knew she was about to hurt him. She sat up, bracing herself for impact. “I'm okay. I'm calling because we need to talk.”

He cut in before she could decide whether to do it quick like ripping off a Band-Aid or wind her way to breaking it off. “You're calling it quits with me, aren't you?”

“What?” Her spine got even straighter. She instinctively started to deny it then realized, yes, that was exactly why she was calling. “Um, yes.”

“I'm coming over. We need to talk.”

“No. Don't. If you come over, it'll be too hard.”

There was a pause.

“I didn't take you for a coward,” he said in a dark tone.

She inhaled, realizing tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I thought I could handle you being a firefighter, but I'm not sure I can. It was horrible sitting in the waiting room last night. And the look on José's wife's face. That can't be me, Jason. I couldn't handle it. I could barely breathe in that waiting room last night and I realized that I can't do it. They say God gives you what you can handle, but I couldn't handle falling in love with you and losing you to a fire. Being with you is like daring the fates. I'd always be waiting for horrible news.” The words were pouring out of her now, as hard as her sobs. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but I can't live my life like that.”

“Shit, Valerie.” A long pause. “Stop apologizing. I'm glad this came out now. You said from the beginning you only wanted me for sex and I was the idiot who pushed for more. Your heart hasn't been in this, because if it was, you wouldn't let fear rule you. Not if you cared enough. You never made false promises. I was a good fuck, but I'm not good enough to shed tears over. I get it.”

If only he could see the tears soaking the front of her shirt. “Don't say that. I care about you.” She kept the words of love to herself, not wanting to be crueler than she was already.

“Not enough, babe. Don't call me.” There was a click and then silence. Shaken, she held her handset in trembling fingers, wondering why she suddenly felt like the evil witch in this scenario.

She'd been trying to protect Jason. He deserved a woman who'd be there for him through good times and bad. She wasn't sure she was capable of being that woman. Only instead of feeling relief that she'd never have to be sitting in a hospital waiting room with Jason in danger, she was miserable. There was no relief she'd cut herself out of a bad situation, only regret that she'd ruined everything.

Jason hurled his phone at the wall across from his bed. It slammed against the dry wall with a satisfying crack and fell to the carpet in two pieces.

Damn.

She'd broken up with him. He'd had a sick feeling it was coming ever since he'd watched the elevator doors close behind her at the hospital early this morning. Was it really only this morning? It felt like days ago. Years ago.

He shouldn't be surprised. She'd told him from day one it was about sex. He was a bit of eye candy for her to play with. He'd chosen not to believe her, instead lapping up every second in her presence as if it were a gift. It had been. He'd fallen head over heels for the girl. Stupid him, he'd thought she was starting to reciprocate.

Boy, had he been wrong. She was nothing but a cowardly user who wasn't worth his time or his heart. Man, he was teed off—she'd been using him for sex and never saw him as anything but a piece of meat. He wanted to chalk it up to her being a snob; that's what she was.

Yet he couldn't make himself believe it. She was about as far from a snob as a woman could be. Rationally he knew she was freaked out by his injury, that was all, but damn, it was hard to buy that when she'd dumped him coldly over the phone.

Turning in his tangled sheets, he eyed the small orange pill bottle the doctor had sent him home with. He grabbed it and winced as he attempted the childproof cap with a broken arm. Finally he managed to wrest it open and pull out a Vicodin. No, make it two. He wanted oblivion tonight.