The Firefighter's Match

by Allie Pleiter

  A nurse came up behind her. “They’ve made it so he can’t move. He’s in there, I promise you, but he’ll be heavily sedated for a little while longer.”

  JJ looked back at the nurse. Hers was the first calm face JJ had seen in hours. “How bad is it?”

  “He was one of the lucky ones. He made it here under the eight-hour window, which means they can give him drugs that improve his chances considerably. He had good care on site and they got him here fast.”

  “Max always said he wanted to ride in a helicopter.” She couldn’t believe she was making a joke while her brother lay dying.

  No, Max wasn’t dying. At least now they were able to tell her that much. He’d definitely survive, only survival was going to be very different for a while. Maybe forever. JJ felt her throat tighten.

  “Our boy has some fight in him, does he?” The nurse had a gentle smile.

  “Loads.”

  Placing her hand on JJ’s shoulder, the nurse gave her a quick squeeze. “That’s good. He has excellent chances—you need to believe that. And those bruises will get worse before they get better, so he won’t be winning any beauty contests anytime soon, but the tricky part’s over for now.” She nodded toward a vinyl couch against the windows. “That folds out if you want to try to nap—I’d guess you’ve been up for hours. I’m Leslie and I’ll be on duty all today. What’s your name, dear?”

  “JJ. Max is my brother.” JJ swiped a tear away with the back of her hand.

  “It a comfort to have family here. Max is in expert hands—we’re very good at what we do. We’ll give him every chance there is, JJ, so you hang on to that.” She punched a few buttons on one of Max’s monitors. “What’s JJ stand for?”

  “Josephine Jones. It’s always been a bit of a mouthful, so I’ve been JJ since I was about twelve.”

  Leslie ran an assessing hand along several of the way-too-many tubes traveling between Max and the assortment of machines that clustered around his bedside. “It’s a good, strong name. Can I give you some advice, JJ?”

  “I suppose.”

  “See all these machines? They’re taking every burden we can off Max’s body so that it can spend all its energy on healing. They look invasive, but they’re really making things easier for Max. You should do the same. You and your family have a long road ahead of you, so it’s time to pull in your own support. Call in your friends and Max’s friends, and when they offer to help, don’t think of them as invasive. Think of them as taking the burden off you so you can spend your energy on helping Max.”

  Sweet thoughts, but they sounded a bit rehearsed to JJ. “Do you say that to all the families?” It came out sharper than JJ would have liked, but she didn’t really have a lot of grace to extend to anyone at the moment.

  There was no judgment in Leslie’s expression. “Just the ones who aren’t crying.”

  “Not crying?”

  “The ones who don’t cry are the ones who are used to staying strong. Strong is a good thing—Max will need your strength—but this is one of those times where you’d better call in the cavalry. That’s harder for some people than others. Just promise me that when people offer to help, you’ll say yes.”

  “Call for backup.” She was familiar with the concept. And yes, she’d always had a bit of trouble calling for backup before. Hadn’t she just rebuffed Alex’s multiple offers to help? It made JJ wonder if all ICU nurses had Leslie’s high level of intuition.

  Leslie smiled. “Exactly. Promise me you’ll call for backup. And that includes me. I happen to know the coffee from the machine on the fourth floor is the only stuff in the hospital worth drinking.” A nursing assistant knocked gently and then slid the glass ICU door open to reveal a cart full of bandages and such. “Stan and I have some less than dignified tasks to do to your brother. Why don’t you take this chance to go get yourself some breakfast and make some calls? Max is out cold for the time being, and he’ll want you here, on top of your game, later.”

  Whereas a few minutes ago the room felt small and claustrophobic like the inside of a combat vehicle, it suddenly felt wrong to leave Max. Her presence had turned into some kind of vigil to her, as if she were keeping Max alive—just one more responsibility she was taking on for his sake. How quickly she had catapulted herself back into big-sister mode, absorbing Max’s self-inflicted catastrophes as some sort of failure on her part to keep him in line.

  Leslie caught her hesitation. “Thirty minutes. It will do you good. Believe me, he’s not going anywhere and he’s very stable. Go on.”

  “Okay.” JJ had to mentally command her feet to walk toward the door. Her head knew Leslie’s advice was sound; it was her heart that wouldn’t swallow the truth.

  The glass doors closed behind her with an antiseptic swish, and JJ blinked in the stark light from the hallway windows. When had the sun come up?

  Again, she forced her feet to move. It felt like her shoes echoed too loudly against the tiled floor and calm-colored walls until she pushed open the double doors that led out of the ICU unit. There, on the square navy couches she’d already come to hate, sat Alex. He looked like she felt, but he raised one of the two cups of coffee he held. “It’s awful, but I thought you could use some.”

  Intrusive, but offering help. JJ could practically feel Leslie pushing her along toward the sad paper cup and its lukewarm contents. “Sure.”

  Chapter Four

  They drank the horrid stuff in silence. Alex had a million things to say, but all of it seemed so trivial in the face of the circumstances. They had sat in silence several times together out on the dock, but it had felt much different. That silence had been warm and soft and effortless. This silence was cold and sharp, and holding it up was exhausting. Finally, just to break the quiet, Alex said, “I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah,” she muttered. The weariness in her voice was worse than the silence.

  “I want to help, but I don’t know how. Can you think of anything you need?”

  JJ put down the cup and squinted her eyes shut. “I need Max to be okay.”

  Ouch. He’d been able to get word that Max had stabilized, pressing his position at Adventure Gear into a scrap of information from a nurse at the desk. She’d refused to tell him anything else and had insisted he shouldn’t ask again. “He will.” Of course, Alex had no basis whatsoever for the pronouncement, but it seemed downright cruel to say anything else.

  “They’re telling me he’ll definitely live. It’s more of a how question at the moment.” JJ’s eyes shot open, fire blazing behind the turquoise currently leveled straight at him. “It is a how question. Like how did this happen? Max knew how to climb. How did he fall?”

  She stopped just short of saying, “Whose fault is this?” He answered it for her as carefully as he could.

  “I don’t know all the facts yet. People are scurrying all over the set trying to find things out, and I’m hearing conflicting reports.” That wasn’t exactly true, but Alex also knew that the only thing worse than no information was the wrong information. “It could’ve been a safety issue with the climbing site. Or the rain. Or bad knots or someone doing something they weren’t supposed to, or all four. People tend to get stupid when the cameras start rolling. And not just the contestants.”

  She leaned against the couch’s padded arm. “Max always had a gift for stupid ideas, especially with an audience.”

  Alex was sure WWW feasted on guys like Max. “Took all the double-dog dares as a kid?”

  “Every one. Mom used to say he stayed up nights looking for ways to hurt himself.” Her voice caught on the last two words.

  Alex knew the type. Specializing in extreme gear as they did, those types were a big part of AG’s customer base. Sam was one and had made a career out of knowing just how to push thrill seekers’ buttons.

  “I’m trying to find out what I can, but WWW isn’t really sharing lots of information with us right now. Even though we’re a major vendor, I don’t have as much clout as you’d think. It ma
y be you learn things before I do, seeing as your Max’s family.”

  “Why isn’t someone from WWW here?”

  “There’s someone on the way.” He’d met the guy they were sending and had taken an instant dislike to him. Way too smooth. “You probably won’t like him much.”

  “I skipped straight to hating WWW an hour ago when they wheeled Max out of surgery.” She looked at him. “Why are you still here? Don’t you have to go cover your corporate tail or something? Get legal on the phone?”

  Alex didn’t really know why he was still here. Did people think his leaving was just ditching blame, “covering his tail”? Her eyes told him that was exactly what people thought, and he couldn’t refute it, could he? He did have a bad habit of ditching tough situations, and something told him that had to stop. It struck him that if he didn’t stay—here, now—he never would. “I didn’t think it was fair to leave you alone in all this.”

  That remark shot something through her spine. She sat up, defensive and prickly. “I’m a combat fire specialist. Army. I’m not some little girl whose hand you have to hold.”

  Funny, he’d wanted to do just that, take her hand, out on the dock or even in the helicopter when she’d let her head fall against the glass. “I know you can hold your own. I just don’t want you to have to.”

  “I have friends.” Defiance honed a sharp edge to her voice. She’d told him just the opposite out there on the docks—said that other than her brother and one cousin she didn’t know people in Illinois and she rather liked it that way. He didn’t doubt that she had friends who would love to be there for her, but the simple truth was she didn’t have friends nearby, which made all the difference in a situation like this. Still, he was sure she’d never admit that.

  “Okay.” Alex drank his awful coffee and stared at the industrial carpeting. They both sat in silence for a minute, then she let out a sigh that seemed to ease some of the iron from her spine.

  “I didn’t mean to snap at you.” She pulled the elastic from her hair and then began nervously working it into a quick braid down her back. Efficient and out of the way. “That wasn’t fair.”

  “None of this is fair. This is wrong in a million different ways, JJ. I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah, well...” She waved off the rest of her sentence. Really, what was there to say?

  Give me some kind words, Lord, Alex prayed, stretching his brain for something meaningful—and only coming up with lame platitudes and more apologies.

  “Alex?”

  Alex looked up to see a familiar face in an excruciatingly geeky turtleneck and cargo pants standing in the lounge doorway. Great. The only thing worse than WWW’s slick executive guy was the eccentric lawyer Sam had hired last year.

  “Morning.” The guy checked his phone, which was of course this year’s latest gadget must-have. He looked at JJ and introduced himself. “Barry Morgan. AG legal.”

  JJ rolled her eyes and stood up. “Well, that didn’t take long.”

  Barry had the nerve to look annoyed. “Sorry if I’m intruding, Miss...”

  “I doubt that,” JJ snapped back, then disappeared through the ICU doors, leaving behind the coffee and the muffins Alex hadn’t even had a chance to offer without a second look.

  “Nice going, Morgan.” Alex didn’t bother to hide his irritation. “That was Josephine Jones, Max Jones’s sister. Was showing up here, now, really necessary?”

  “I was in town giving a first pass at some sponsorship documents, so Sam begged me to come by and make sure we’re on the same page. Sam would’ve come himself but he’s going back to Denver tomorrow morning since you don’t seem to want to leave. Chill out. I’m just here to talk to you—I’m not going to bother her.”

  “You just did. What can’t possibly wait until Jones is awake and we know his prognosis?

  “Hey, look, you should be glad I was nearby. WWW’s got guys all over this screaming we’re liable. Already.”

  Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course they are.” He gave Morgan his most direct look. “We are, aren’t we?” He didn’t even want to be having this conversation.

  “Depends on your interpretation.”

  A very lawyerly answer from a guy who looked more like he belonged at a coffee bar than the American Bar Association. Where did Sam find these guys? “I’m sure.” Alex waited for Morgan to snap open his leather messenger bag and hand over a stack of releases for JJ to sign, but the man simply sat down. “And what’s your interpretation?” Alex prompted.

  Morgan adjusted his artsy wire glasses. “The equipment we gave WWW was a prototype and not yet fully drop tested, right?”

  “Not we. I never approved that. I only agreed to let them examine it—not use it. You should know that right now.”

  “Sam brought me up to speed on your opinion.” He lowered his voice. “Look, the bottom line is that it’d be best for all concerned if we kept things as far from antagonistic with the victim and his family as possible. Sam’s ticked you’re not going to Denver, but I told him that you sticking around could be an advantage. I trust you’re on board with that strategy?”

  Alex didn’t like people who used phrases like “on board” and “up to speed,” especially while dressed like coffeehouse poets. “If you’re asking me if I’m in favor of AG being in position to do the right thing here, then yes, I’m ‘on board.’”

  “Good. Your role is to stay in the family’s good graces. If any suits are going to be filed, life will be far easier for us if they’re directed at WWW and not AG. Surely you can see that.”

  The awful coffee in Alex’s stomach turned more sour. “Oh, I can see exactly where you’re heading with this.”

  “Excellent.”

  Alex stood. “And believe me, if you aren’t out of this hospital within ten minutes you’ll see just how ‘up to speed’ I can be, Morgan. If you think I’m here to cozy up to Jones’s family for leverage...” Without finishing the vile thought, Alex picked up Morgan’s bag and slapped it into the attorney’s chest. “I’m here because a man’s future is hanging in the balance, not because the profit share is in jeopardy. Leave. Now. And if you want anything, go call my brother. He speaks your language much better than I do.”

  This was exactly the kind of company Alex didn’t want to run. Morgan was precisely the kind of person Alex never wanted to do business with. Was this the future of AG, or was there still time to turn things around?

  That frustration, and the sleep deprivation, got the best of Alex because out of nowhere he shouted, “And for crying out loud, Morgan, does Sam know you do business looking like that?”

  * * *

  He was still there. Six hours had passed. JJ had walked out of ICU three times for food or phone calls about Mom’s plane arrival or just to stop hearing the awful noise of those machines, and each time Alex Cushman was still camped out on the navy couch. After the second encounter, he’d simply stopped trying to make her talk to him. It was like Alex was keeping a silent vigil of his own. She didn’t know what to do with that.

  Suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the past twelve hours, JJ slumped down on the opposite couch. Alex held her gaze for a moment, looking as drawn as she felt. “I want to be furious with you, but I can’t manage to pull it off.”

  One corner of his mouth turned up in a weak grin. “My irresistible charm?”

  “More like I’m still awake and you’re still here.”

  “So you’ll begin despising me once you get a good night’s sleep underneath you?”

  His remark pricked a nerve. The raw nerve that was stretched to breaking at the prospect of how long and how far it was from “here” to “okay.” And that’s if Max ever got to be “okay” ever again, which no one would tell her yet. If she heard the phrase “it’s still too early to tell” one more time, she thought she’d scream. “I don’t know when I’ll get a good night’s sleep ever again.” JJ thought she was going to cry. She could feel the tight threat of tears grab hold of her throat
, but then there was nothing. Empty. Dry. She’d spent months in the Afghan desert, fought fires in temperatures over 110 degrees, and she’d never felt this dry.

  She’d come home hoping for a fresh start—a chance to find her feet again, find her purpose. Instead, she’d just found another disaster she could do next to nothing to fix.

  Alex shook his head. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  There it was again, that awful silence where, in a less drastic situation, the other person was supposed to say, “It’s all right.” Only that didn’t apply here. It was never going to be all right, not for Max. Today felt like the antithetical negative of the greeting-card phrase, “Today is the first day of the rest of your life.” It was, but in all the horrible ways JJ could imagine. And she, who put out fires, who squelched disasters, couldn’t do anything about it.

  A doctor—one JJ recognized from the dozens who had slipped in and out of Max’s room—pushed open the double doors that led into the lounge. He held one of those oversize manila envelopes that contained X-rays. “Miss Jones?”

  She hated the look on his face. She knew that emotional mask, that “game face” for delivering news. She’d used it herself when she stood beside Captain Dewey to tell the brigade that Carlisle hadn’t made it. A dreaded, familiar core of ice started in her gut and worked its way up to turn her chest cold and brittle. “Yes?”

  JJ stood up, bracing herself.

  He laid the envelope on the sticky coffee table and held out a hand. “I’m Dr. Ryland. We met a couple of hours ago, but I don’t expect you to remember that. Does Max have other family on the way?”

  “My mom is flying in. She’ll be here around noon, I think.”

  “We’re sending a limo to pick her up from the airport and bring her straight here,” Alex said from behind her. For a moment she’d forgotten he was even in the room.

  Dr. Ryland crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Leslie tells me you’re a first responder.”

  “Army firefighter. Well, until last month, that is. I finished my last tour of duty in Afghanistan recently.”