For a few minutes we stand in silence while we wait for our food. I’m interested in why he’s not-yet ready to mingle. From the outside looking in, he seems to have it all together, doesn’t appear to have any of the hang-ups most men his age do.
But that’s the problem with looking in. A lot can be hidden when you’re just looking in. Once you get past the curtain, really see in the window, and get to know a person, there’s more than you ever could have imagined. I mean look at me and what I’m hiding. It’s enough for an entire episode of Dr. Drew.
Our number is called, and while Cutter goes to get our food, I’m tasked with finding us a place to sit.
Since most establishments are still closed, Shucker’s has added a bunch of picnic tables to the few they already had. If I had to guess there’s at least twenty set up out here. Most are full, but I see one at the very back. A small family has just gotten up from it, so I head over in that direction, putting my wallet on the table as I have a seat, throwing my leg over the bench.
Lights are starting to pop on around this eating area. Glancing at the screen on my phone, I see it’s going on eight o’clock. Looking at the sky stars starting to appear, and the sun is setting in the distance. A bright pink hue bleeds into the blue/gray of the night canvas. This would be a perfect picture, but I’ve stopped taking them.
They don’t help when your dream is ripped from you and all you have left are memories. You look at those pictures and wonder why you didn’t live in the moment. Why you were so worried about getting a picture when the memory could have lasted just as long.
“Here we go.”
Shaking my head slightly to clear those thoughts, I try to get back to where I was before I came over here to sit. Cutter doesn’t know my history, doesn’t know that I sometimes get lost in my own head, and right now it’d be weird to explain it to him. If anything, I’d rather have a friend who didn’t know. At least then I’d know they didn’t hang around me out of pity.
“This looks so good.” I give him a smile, genuinely happy to be having a meal with someone other than my family or my partner.
“Do they normally have a bigger set up?” Cutter asks as he digs into a sandwich.
I notice he’s also got some wings. I love a man who can chow down on wings.
“Yeah.” I dip my meat in the ranch dressing I ordered and take a bite. “They actually have one of the lots in downtown.”
He whistles, knowing a lot of downtown was completely destroyed.
“Exactly.” I take a drink of my Coke. “They started out here though, and they typically keep it open in the summer to help serve the beach crowds. Every hurricane that’s come through here or tornado we’ve had, they’ve always opened this place up. There’s one thing you can count on in the face of tragedy, and it’s that Shucker’s will be open. If it wasn’t, I don’t know what we’d do.”
“It’s amazing this little building withstood the force of the storm.” Cutter looks out at the parking lot, seeing the beach from where we sit.
“Because of the natural barriers.” I point out the fact it’s on a hill, there’s a windbreak of trees, and the little shack is nestled into almost an alcove. “This place has withstood the test of time; it may not look like much, but this right here? It’s the heart of this community. Without it, I don’t know what we’d be doing.”
“Eating sandwiches and chips in the hotel room,” he jokes.
But me, I’m thinking of another time. When I had nowhere else to go, I came here that night. They fed me, they told me everything was going to be okay, and that had been the first time I believed it. The first time I could see a way out of what had happened.
“This is definitely better than that. Tomorrow, I’ll have to get some of the mac and cheese for you to try. It’s won awards.”
He groans. “I’m looking forward to it.”
So am I, but I can’t say that words. I don’t want to give myself false hope that maybe, just maybe, the exile I’ve been in is potentially coming to an end.
Instead, I give him another grin and get to work on my plate of food. Eating means not talking, and right now that sounds good to me.
Chapter Eight
Rowan
“Just let me help you.” Isaac tells the man we’re attending to. He’s been fighting our intentions since we showed up.
“Please,” I beg. “Let us look at the wound.”
The call came in as a man who had been cleaning up from the hurricane. Sheet metal is still wrapped in trees, and some came falling down on his head. There’s a very deep abrasion, and it’s bleeding profusely. Not horribly alarming with head wounds, but we’ve got to make sure there’s no underlying conditions.
“I don’t need no goddamn help. I’m fine.”
Isaac looks up at me, his cheeks going red. He’s about to lose it. That’s the sign. “You’re not fine,” he argues.
A patrol car pulls into the driveway behind our ambulance. A sigh of relief escapes my chest. We need help with this man. He’s not listening to us, so hopefully he’ll listen to whoever’s come to our rescue.
“Y’all havin’ issues?”
Of course it’s my brother. I turn around, hand on hip, eyes ready to roll when I see someone else has stepped out of the patrol car with him. He’s not riding alone. At first I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. He’s an EMT, not a cop. But as they get closer, I see everything.
The dark hair.
The tattoos.
The soulful eyes that teeter on the edge of dark and light.
Kinda how I think he teeters on the edge sometimes between good and bad.
Between what’s right and what feels good.
Last night I had a great time with him, and I’m looking forward to tonight. I thought about him way more than I should have when I got home.
As he approaches, putting one foot in the front of the other, the authoritative swagger I would recognize anywhere as his - after all it was ingrained when he pulled me over that tree trunk - cause me to pull my bottom lip between my teeth. Something about the way his hips roll. Equal parts relaxed and ready to move if he needs to.
Just like that, a part of me that hasn’t been alive in three years takes notice.
And if I’m not mistaken, Cutter has taken notice, too.
They come to the rescue, helping Isaac get this man under control. When he’s finally sitting on the stretcher in the back of the ambulance, he takes a look at all of us.
“Don’t want y’all to help me,” he sneers. “Would rather have the pretty lady within grabbing distance.”
He makes a vulgar gesture with his hand. One that irritates me, but I’m used to them. My brother though? He’s not used to seeing it at all.
“Hey, don’t disrespect her like that.” He presses back on the man’s shoulder. “You show her some respect.”
Isaac stands to the side, his arms folded over his chest. He’s obviously had enough of this himself. Honestly, right now, the last thing I want to do is help this man. I’m torn between my duty and annoyance.
“I’ll do this.” Cutter grabs a pair of gloves.
“Said I want her,” the man argues.
“Nope.” Cutter shakes his head. “You lost your chance with her. Now you get me. So lean back and let me look at you.”
The tone of his voice leaves no room for disobedience. Something I feel acutely between my thighs.
So not appropriate.
I try not to let them, but my eyes roam Cutter’s back, watching as he examines the patient. The shirt he wears is one that’s seen a lot of washes, given the way it molds completely to the muscles and contours.
What the fuck is happening with me? One dinner with the man and I’ve turned into the main character of a romance movie.
“He’s gonna have to go to the hospital.” Cutter grimaces. “It’s a pretty deep cut.”
Looking down, I see the blood splatter on his gloves.
“I don’t want to go!”
&n
bsp; “Too bad,” my brother cuts him off. “You’re going because I say you’re going.”
“I’ll ride back here with him,” Cutter offers.
“Good enough for me.” Isaac had enough before we even got here. He throws his gloves off and heads for the driver’s seat.
“Go ahead.” Cutter nods to me with his head. “Wait up there.”
I don’t want to. It’s my job to stay back here with our transports. I’m normally the one who does this, and I don’t feel right letting someone else do it, even if I know they should. Sullivan catches my arm, our eyes meeting.
“Do as he says. I don’t trust this guy.”
If anything Sullivan has always had my best interest at heart. Even when we were little kids who argued over every single thing. If there’s anyone I trust, it’s him. Glancing back at the three of them, I leave the back of the ambulance, going to my seat in the passenger side.
“You okay?” Isaac asks as I get situated.
I’m watching the sideview mirror for Sullivan to come out. When he does, I breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m fine.”
“He was way out of line with the gestures he was making and the way he was talking.”
“You act like it’s the first time I’ve ever seen or heard someone do those times of things. You know better than anyone how often I’ve dealt with it.”
“Still doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Sullivan taps the side of our ambulance, indicating it’s time for us to go.
“Thanks for your help.” Isaac slaps Cutter on the back after we get the man wheeled into the ER. “I know I shouldn’t let it, but people like that sometimes get to me.”
“It’s one of the worst parts of the job,” Cutter agrees. “I didn’t mind to help, that’s what I’m here for.”
All three of us walk outside. The sun is starting to lower, causing me to take a look at my watch. “We’re off,” I tell my partner. “If you wanna drive the ambulance back, I think I’d rather walk.”
It’s a little over a mile to the ambulance bay and sometimes I enjoy the way a walk after a hectic day can calm me down.
“Mind if I join you?” Cutter questions. “I could definitely use the exercise.”
Part of me doesn’t believe what he’s saying because he’s in such good shape, but who am I to deny a walk?”
“Sure.”
Isaac and I have a conversation between gazes. We don’t say a word, but with my eyes, I let him know I’m okay with Cutter.
“I’ll see you in a couple of days.” He salutes, jogging back to the ambulance.
“Couple of days?”
We take off walking. “Isaac and I don’t work again for three days. This is our weekend. Now that some of the cleanup has started and most of the emergent issues have been taken care of, they’re putting us back on regular schedules. Especially since a lot of us had so much overtime the first couple of nights. When I clock out I’ll have worked eighty-five hours this week. That includes the all-nighter we pulled.”
“I didn’t realize you’d done that much.” He puts his hands in his pockets, measuring his gait to mine.
I’m sure he wants to walk faster, but my legs are much shorter than his. The day is muggy and warm, but full of the promise of a coming fall. Sweat makes my glasses slip slightly down my nose. I reach up, pushing them back to where they need to be.
“I didn’t even think about it, truth be told.” I shrug. “It had to be done, people needed help and that’s what I’m here for.”
“But still, it’s gotta be exhausting.”
A chuckle pushes out of my mouth. “You tell me, you’ve been working the same kinda shifts we have.”
“Not really.” He shakes his head. “I go home to a motel room where I ain’t expected to clean a damn thing. You must have someone else to clean up after.”
My smile is wistful. “Not anymore. Just me, and even though my apartment is lived in, I enjoy keeping things in their places.”
“Ms. Type A. I can see that.”
“Type A?” I huff. “Whatever, I’m not Type A. I don’t always have to have everything right where it’s supposed to be.”
“Oh yeah.” He turns to face me. “In the few days I’ve been here, I’ve not seen your hair down once.”
Because my hair up is my security blanket.
“It’s long, heavy, and gets tangled,” I protest. “It’s easier to keep it up when I’m working.”
He raises a brow. “But I’ve seen you when you’ve not been working.”
I struggle to find another answer. “It’s hot.”
“Alright Rowan, but one day,” – he reaches over to tuck an errant strand behind my ear – “I’m gonna need the real answer as to why you don’t wear your hair down.”
A non-comital hum is all I give him. We turn into the parking lot of the ambulance garage. “I’m gonna need a ride back to the hotel, if that’s cool.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
“We can stop and get that mac and cheese you promised me,” he reminds me. “There’s a lobby with tables.”
It’s against my better judgement, mostly because I haven’t had to use it in the past four years, but the next words coming out of my mouth are unexpected, even from me. “I have a balcony on my apartment, and I’m lucky enough to have air conditioning right now. We can eat there.”
His eyes roam mine, looking for I’m not sure what.
“Do you mind if I shower? The shower in the hotel is awful, and I’ve been out in this all day.”
There are sweat stains on his shirt I must have previously overlooked, his skin tinted red from the sun.
“Don’t mind at all.”
But in my head, I’m saying, Stupid, stupid girl.
Chapter Nine
Cutter
“I’ll be right back, just have to run up and get my stuff.”
I hope Rowan doesn’t bolt. She kinda looks like she wants to take away the invitation she gave to shower at her apartment. Can’t say as I’d blame her, but I really hope she doesn’t.
“Take your time.”
That’s the last thing I’m going to do. Rushing into the lobby, I see a ton of people waiting for the elevator. Fuck that. I ran enough stairs during football, I can beat the elevator. A quick look around shows me where the stairwell is, and up I go, taking them two at a time. All because I don’t want her to leave.
Getting to our room, I fumble with the key card. When I finally get it open, I burst through it, almost running over Major.
“Why in such a big hurry?” Tucker mumbles from where he lies face down on his bed. He worked a long shift yesterday and I’m not surprised he isn’t awake yet.
“Having dinner with Rowan and she’s letting me take a real shower at her house.”
“I hate you.” He flips me the bird without opening his eyes. “The water pressure on that fucking thing is from World War II.”
“I know, love you.” I blow kisses at him. “Don’t wait up.”
Luckily for me I haven’t taken much out of the bags I came here with, so it’s easy to transfer everything into a small one. I head to the door with a loud “screw you” yelled my way.
It’s fine, I’ll take the abuse any day to hang out with the girl. I’m out, and heading down the stairs as quickly as I can. When I broach the entrance, I’m fully aware there’s a possibility she may have left. Maybe I came on too strong, asking her to borrow her shower. Too late for me to take it back now, though.
My eyes adjust to the sun still shining and my heart thunders. I don’t see her anymore. She must have left.
I’m dejected, turning back to go the way I came.
“Cutter!”
It’s her voice. The urgency in it causes me to turn back around.
“Where are you going?”
I grin, walking over to where she’s driving up. “Thought you left me.”
“No,” she laughs, shaking her head. “I had to make a circle because I was in the way of som
e other people. I got honked at.” She rolls her eyes.
“Then you turned around and honked at me.”
“You looked so dejected.” She stops at the sign engaging her turn signal before trying to merge onto the main road. “Like I’d hurt your dog or something, your shoulders were slumped.”
“I’m looking forward to spending time with you,” I admit.
She glances over at me, the air conditioning blowing her hair. The voice she speaks with is lower than I’m used to. “I’m looking forward to it, too.”
“It’s nothing super fancy,” Rowan says as we go up the stairs to what I assume is her apartment.
“Anything’s better than the hotel. It’s so impersonal. I miss my own bed,” I admit.
Being away from home has been harder than I thought it would be. Even though I’d done it in college. It’s been years now since I’ve been away. I’m used to going and seeing my mom and dad whenever I want to, dropping over at Ransom’s to see my nephew. Throwing balls with Rambo. Dinner at The Café. I miss it more than I thought I would.
“If I were you I’d be missing my own bed too. I don’t know how you’re doing it, I’m not sure I could be away from my family.”
“It helps having Tucker here. He and I have known each other for a long time. In a few weeks we’ll be relieved or joined by other members of the LSERT.”
“Any of your family?” She stops in front of a door with a wreath on it, which proclaims her a fan of Auburn.
“Damn girl.” I push my fingers through my hair. “You were the perfect woman, but you’re not a fan of Alabama? My heart is broken.”
Her eyes squint with anger. “You’re a fan?”
“I fucking played football for them.”
She stands with her hands on her hips. “Does this mean we have to discontinue our friendship?”
That’s the last thing I want to do. “I’ll be okay with it as long as you’re okay with it.”
Cutter Page 5
