Code of Honor

by Kathryn Shay

  The door opened, halting his question. Framed in it were a pale Derek, Delaney and Reed Macauley. Derek stared at Jake. Delaney said, “Hi, Jake. Derek wants to see you.” She looked around the room and with her usual bull-in-a-china-shop lack of finesse announced, “Alone, if that’s okay with Jessica.”

  Jess got the message. “Sure.”

  Reed said, “Jessica, why don’t you and I go get some coffee? I checked with the doctor, and your dad’s going to be admitted soon and taken to his room. We can help get him settled then.”

  Bending over, Jess kissed Jake’s head, said, “I love you, Daddy,” then crossed to Reed. “Okay. Let’s go. She grabbed Derek’s arm. “He’s okay, Der.”

  Derek nodded.

  Chelsea watched Barbara kiss Jake’s cheek. “I’m staying, too. I’ll be out in the waiting room until they admit you.”

  Delaney stood on tiptoe and said something to Derek. Then she turned. “Come on, Chelsea. You look like you’re about to collapse. I’m taking you home.”

  All Chelsea wanted was a moment alone with Jake. Even thirty seconds. But she swallowed the need, remembering his words.

  We just won’t tell anyone. Not Delaney, Francey or Beth. Not Reed or Ben.

  With Derek in the doorway, and Barb, Jess and Reed out the door, the firefighters from Quint Twelve said goodbye to their injured lieutenant. Joey squeezed Jake’s shoulder, Mick bent for an awkward hug, Don socked his arm, Peter patted his hand. Chelsea rose to her feet. As the men filed out, Jake said, “Come on, Whitmore, don’t I rate some TLC from you?”

  On limbs shakier than when she’d run a marathon, she crossed the room. Her gaze locked with his. She leaned over the bed and closed her eyes to savor the solid, safe feel of him. His hands came up to grasp her arms. He whispered, “Easy, babe.”

  Swallowing hard, Chelsea nodded, turned away and let Delaney escort her out of Jake’s room. But what she wanted more than anything else in the world was to stay with the man she loved.

  THE DARKNESS HOVERED around him, but in it he could see specters from the day—Chelsea going down, then Jake. He could hear the keening sound of her alarm. They’d been rescued, but the effort could have taken several more minutes had the Quint Six guys not been so prepared. Oh, God, what had he done? She could have been killed.

  He paced. He shouldn’t have done something so drastic. He’d have to make sure the next time wasn’t life-threatening. Goddamn it, he wasn’t sure anybody had even heard the alarm go off, so it could be all for nothing.

  She could have been killed for nothing. When what he wanted was her out of the department to make sure she’d be safe.

  Do you? the voice inside him asked. Hyde asked.

  There was a knock on his door.

  He swore vilely to himself; he didn’t need interruption. He needed to plan. It was even more important now that he take care of her. After tonight.

  IT FELT LIKE a thousand needles were pricking the backs of his legs. Once again, Jake shifted in the small bed, trying to ease some of the pain. Not much helped except the stuff they spiked his IV drip with every four hours. The latest dose, administered ten minutes ago by a nurse who was way too perky for six in the morning, should take effect soon.

  In the dim twilight, the door to his room opened, a slash of light illuminating the interior. And his visitor.

  “Well, maybe I’ll get through the morning now.” His voice was gravelly from interrupted sleep. Gruffer from seeing Chelsea.

  “Hi.” She stood by the foot of the bed, bathed in shadows. She looked tired. But so good he wanted to crush her to him and never let her go. Her hair was wild around her shoulders, incongruous with the fire department uniform she wore.

  “Come here, love.”

  Slowly, like in a dream sequence in a movie, she came around to the side of the bed. She reached for the chair, never taking her eyes off him.

  “Oh, no.” He patted the mattress. “Right here.”

  She sank onto the bed. Some scent—outdoorsy, like a flower garden or maybe an apple orchard—surrounded her.

  As if they’d been lovers for years, he reached up to enfold her in his arms as she leaned down and buried her face in his chest. Closing his eyes, he whispered, “When I saw you go down—” Though he couldn’t finish, in his mind he pictured her toppling under the deadly weight and heat of the plaster.

  “I saw you, too.” Her words were muffled by his shirt.

  “You got hit worse than me.”

  No more needed to be said. As veteran firefighters, they both knew what could have happened.

  Minutes passed. He savored her, rubbing her back tenderly. She kissed his neck, inching in as close as she could. Finally she drew back. Sat up. Reverently, she skimmed his cheek with her knuckles. He grabbed her hand and kissed it.

  “I wanted you to stay last night.” His voice was a dark-of-the-night whisper.

  “It killed me to leave.” Softly spoken, her words conveyed the hurt he’d seen on her face when everybody else had taken over the right to care for him.

  “I asked Reed to call you.”

  “He did. I was in the bath. He got Delaney, instead.”

  Jake chuckled. “Fireworks again?”

  “Not too bad. Actually they met in the ER last night and fell right into step to take care of Jess and Derek.” She smiled. “He told Delaney you were out for the count.” She leaned over and brushed his lips with hers.

  “Or else I would have sneaked in last night after my sister finally left me alone.”

  “I’m glad you came this morning.” He ran the pad of his thumb over her lips.

  “I figured nobody would be here before work. If they did come, I’d just say I was checking up on you.”

  “I’m sorry about the secrecy. That it hurt you last night.”

  She shook her head, belying the sadness in her eyes. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”

  He studied her face. Took in the smudges beneath her eyes. The tight jaw. “Are you hurt? The truth, this time.”

  “A few minor burns. They kept me awake, but they’re okay.” She rubbed her shoulder. “I’m sore as hell.”

  He ran his hand down her arm. “You sure you should go to work?”

  “What would you do, Lieutenant?”

  “Touché.” He shifted and winced.

  “You’re in a lot of pain, aren’t you?”

  He nodded. “I forgot it could be this bad. The painkiller will kick in soon.”

  She smoothed back his hair. Drank in his face.

  “I want to tell you something,” he said softly.

  She smiled, so much feeling in those amber eyes he wanted to drown in them.

  “I love you, Chels.”

  Her face paled. Her jaw slackened. Her breathing sped up. He expected surprise. But not the moisture that filled her eyes.

  Wiping away a renegade drop with his finger, he formulated what to say next. He wasn’t sorry he said he loved her; experiences like last night taught him he didn’t have time to waste dissembling. But he didn’t want to spook her.

  So he said, “I know it’s only been a couple of months. That we just made love a few days ago.” He brushed back her hair. “But it’s never been like this for me with anybody before.”

  Her tears multiplied.

  His breathing accelerated. “Honey, it’s okay if you don’t feel this way yet. I know you care about me—I can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way you touch me, respond to me. The rest will come.”

  She shook her head, dropped her chin to her chest. She was crying hard. He tried to pull her to him, but she resisted. He edged toward panic.

  Finally she lifted her head. Her eyes were bright with tears, her face glowing. “I love you, too, Jake. So much.”

  He hadn’t realized what the declaration would mean to him. The sun coming out after a flood, winning the lottery or becoming chief couldn’t have meant more to him.

  She leaned into his chest again, and he held her. Kissed her hai
r. Locked his hand at her neck. “It’ll work out, I promise. Nothing will come between us. If I take this captaincy exam—” he hugged her tighter “—who knows. All I’m sure of is that I need you. And I’ll have you in my life.”

  She nodded, but couldn’t speak. She cried softly.

  She was still crying, and he was still clasping her to his chest, when he heard a voice. “Um, sorry to intrude. I didn’t think you’d have visitors so early.”

  Jake looked over Chelsea’s shoulders to see Battalion Chief Ben Cordaro standing in the doorway.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  BEN CORDARO stared after Chelsea, who with an embarrassed hello had left hurriedly. The knowing look on his face was something Jake had seen many times in the past. For a moment Jake was irrationally angry at having to keep something so important secret from somebody so significant in his life.

  Facing him, Ben asked, “You okay, buddy?” He’d been out of town until late last night, Jake knew.

  “My legs hurt like hell, but I’ll live.”

  “Hot plaster.” Ben cringed as he straddled the straight chair next to the bed. “I’ve been under it a time or two. Not pleasant.”

  Jake shook his head.

  Again Ben glanced toward the door. “Chelsea okay? Francey’s worried about her.”

  “She’s overwrought, Ben. She was really shaken yesterday and broke down this morning when she got here.”

  The man who had been a father to Jake looked hard at him. Jake was reminded of the first man-to-man discussion he’d had with Ben about sex. “Want to talk about it, Jakey?” Ben asked, using the old childhood nickname.

  Jake shook his head.

  “As a friend, not a battalion chief?”

  Still, Jake declined.

  “All right.” Ben scanned the room, as if searching for answers in the dim morning light. “You know, when Diana came back to town, I had some tough truths to face.” His gaze leveled on Jake. “Some things are more important than the Rockford Fire Department, Jake.” He cleared his throat. “I’m grateful to have a second chance with her. But we lost more than twenty-five years together. Neither one of us will ever get over it.”

  Since Ben was usually reserved, Jake was surprised at his confession. “What are you saying, Ben?”

  Ben stood. “I’m saying a son should learn from his father’s mistakes.” He smiled sadly. “Now I’m gonna go track down the nurses to see when I can spring you from this place.”

  “SON OF A BITCH.” In the gray half-light of the bay, Chelsea stared at the dismantled air pack she held in her hands as if it were equipment from another planet.

  “What’s wrong, Whitmore?”

  She whirled to find her crew—minus Ed Knight, Jake’s replacement, who was in the office—standing behind her. Raising her chin, she faced them squarely. “My tank’s empty.”

  “We know,” Mick said softly, crossing his arms. “We heard it go off in the building yesterday.”

  “I thought the alarm malfunctioned.” Chelsea kept her voice even.

  “It didn’t.” This from Peter, who leaned against the rig.

  She held his gaze. “I checked my air pack yesterday morning. The tank was full.”

  “We didn’t use them before the fire,” Diaz, hovering behind Mick, said.

  “I know.” She held their gazes unflinchingly. “But it was full.”

  Four doubting Thomases watched her.

  “You don’t believe me.”

  Mick shook his head. “Chelsea, we aren’t upset about this. Me and the guys talked about it over breakfast. We’ll just forget it happened. It was one little mistake.”

  Over breakfast. “I wasn’t invited to this little powwow?”

  Mick hurried to explain. “We thought you’d be tired and want to sleep in.”

  She bit her lip and turned her back on them, ripping the mask from its hoses. “Yeah, sure.”

  Someone grasped her arm and pulled her around. Peter. “You can’t blame us for worrying. You know as well as anybody a mistake like this could endanger the rest of us.”

  “I didn’t make a mistake.”

  He shrugged. “Okay, so something’s wrong with the tank.”

  “Yes, it is. I’ll send it to maintenance and see what.”

  “Fine,” Diaz said. Chelsea had learned that of all of them, Don liked conflict the least. “Let’s drop it. We won’t tell Jake.”

  “Oh, no,” Chelsea said. “I’m reporting this to my officer.”

  “Why?” Mick asked.

  “Because I did nothing wrong.”

  A few feet away, she saw something flare in Joey Santori’s eyes, but he remained silent.

  “Suit yourself,” Huff said. “We’re going over to see him after work.”

  “Am I invited to come along this time?” she asked sarcastically.

  They nodded sheepishly. One by one, they headed for the kitchen to meet with Ed.

  Facing the rig, she struggled for composure. The insidious feeling of exclusion, the fear of becoming a pariah with her crew, reared its head. She leaned against the truck, its metallic surface cool against her hot cheek.

  What a morning. First Ben Cordaro, now this.

  She’d been mortified when the battalion chief had walked in and found her and Jake in a compromising position. Though Jake had covered well, saying she was overwrought from yesterday, Ben’s eyes had been knowing.

  Forcefully Chelsea banished the image. Instead, she summoned Jake’s hoarsely uttered words, a soothing balm to her soul. I love you, Chels.

  “Whitmore?”

  She pivoted to find Santori looming behind her. Another hurdle, she thought, very tired of running the same race over and over. “Yeah?”

  He stuck his hands in his pockets. “For what it’s worth, I told the guys to ask you to come for breakfast this morning.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah.”

  The look they exchanged was meaningful.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He smiled like a little boy, then reached for her arm. “Come on, Firefighter Whitmore. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

  THEY WERE DRIVING Jake crazy, now that he was home. Jess, Barb and even Ben had hovered over him like mother hens most of the day until he wanted to scream. He leaned back into the pillows on his sofa bed and sighed. A breeze drifted in from the open windows and skylights, but he felt hot and sticky in the August heat. He hated being laid up, being so dependent.

  Liar. If Chelsea came and played nurse, you’d be just fine.

  He couldn’t help but smile. He could still see her eyes sparkling with tiny starlike tears as she told him she loved him. Years of loneliness, of self-imposed separation, had been washed away by three little words.

  “Jake?” Barbara was framed in the arched doorway. Late-afternoon sunlight slanted in from the skylights. She looked tired and a little worried. “I’m leaving. Supper’s in the oven for Jess to heat up before she goes to work at the gym tonight. Would you like me to come back?”

  “No, Barb, I’m fine. You’ve done enough.”

  “Well, I’ll be at home if you need me.” She came farther into the room, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Then she gently caressed his face with her fingers.

  “I’m glad you’re all right.”

  He grasped her hand. “Thanks for everything.”

  She started to say more, but stopped at a commotion on the stairs. It sounded like a buffalo run.

  Jake grinned. “My group’s arrived.”

  They’d called to say they’d be over right after work. Five uniformed Rockford firefighters traipsed into the room.

  “Jeez, what is this, your own private getaway?” Mick, the first in, asked as he scanned the upper floor of Jake’s house.

  “How come we ain’t never seen it?” Diaz wanted to know.

  “Nice digs, Scarlatta,” Peter commented.

  “Hi, guys,” Jake said dryly. He looked past Mick and Don, then Joey, to see C
helsea enter just before Huff.

  Her eyes found his, and she gave him a private smile.

  He scowled. Her face was drawn. Her mouth tight. Why?

  After Barb bade them hello and goodbye, Peter and Don took the stuffed chairs; Joe and Mick pulled up straight-backed ones. He noticed Joey got a chair from the desk for Chelsea. “Sit down, Whitmore. We don’t wanna have to give you mouth to mouth if you pass out.”

  She moved farther into the room. Before she sat, she went to Jake and gave him a hug. Brotherly. Like a colleague. Then she sank onto the chair.

  “Not doin’ good, Whitmore?”

  “She shouldn’t’ve come to work today,” Don said, looking at the ceiling. “Women!”

  “I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep well.” Her gaze focused on Jake. “How are you today, Lieutenant?”

  “I had a great morning,” he said mischievously, and watched her blush. “But the rest of the day’s been downhill.”

  “Barb’s babying you again?” Mick asked.

  Chelsea lifted her brow. “Again?”

  “Yeah,” Mick teased. “Jake catches a little cold, and Barb’s over here with chicken soup.”

  “Hmm,” Chelsea said, her eyes narrowing on Jake.

  He squirmed. “Tell me about today. What runs did we get?”

  There was a brief silence. Jake felt the tension rise. Finally Joey cleared his throat. “Four calls, all EMS.”

  Jake waited.

  Because she rarely spoke for the group, he was surprised when Chelsea said, “Jake, there’s something you need to know. Yesterday my SCBA alarm went off just after the ceiling collapsed.”

  “That was yours?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t understand. We were only in the building ten minutes.”

  “I know. It malfunctioned.”

  Jake saw Peter turn away and study a picture on the wall. Mick shifted in his seat. Don looked at the floor. Joey watched Chelsea.

  “Malfunctioned?” Jake asked. “That’s pretty rare.”

  Chelsea’s hands were linked in her lap. The sunlight shining down on her made her face look even more drawn. “I know. Nonetheless, it did. I’m certain I checked it in the morning.”