“Because what you’re doing right now is not helping him. Giving up your own goals to push Max in the direction you think he should go is not the answer. How is not getting on with your own life helping Max get on with his?”
She stalked over to him. “Max may not have a life anymore. Or are you too worried that it might be your fault to see that?”
It struck him with such clarity that his realization felt like a punch to his ribs. Alex grabbed JJ’s wrist and shook it. “Max is alive. He still has a life. Dr. Ryland seems to think he has really good chances at keeping all of his upper-body function, right?”
“I’m sure that makes you feel better. A quadriplegic would be so bad for business, wouldn’t it?”
This time he did grab her shoulder. “He’s not dead. He’s not dying. His life is changed forever, but it’s still his life. This isn’t Angie Carlisle all over again, and you’re hurting Max by making it about how you can’t save him.”
“That was low, even for you. You should just leave.”
The tone in her voice dug under his skin, and his frustration boiled over. “I can’t!”
“Of course you can. You’re Alex Cushman—it’s what you’re all about, isn’t it? Escape?”
He had thought about leaving. He’d already tried it, essentially, when he flew to Denver. The old Alex would have been long gone days ago, especially after those blowouts with Sam. Still, he couldn’t. He didn’t want to. He was tied to this somehow, in a way he couldn’t name but couldn’t ignore.
He saw it, then, in her eyes. So clearly that he wondered how he had missed it earlier: JJ was waiting for him to leave. Watching for him to betray her in the way she had been betrayed before.
It settled on him like an avalanche. This was no longer about injury or money or any of those things. This was about him and her, about whether he would stand by her or leave. About whether he was even capable of standing by her, of earning her trust, of walking this journey God had clearly placed before him.
“I can’t leave.” It wasn’t even close to an explanation, but he didn’t even know himself what was going on inside him. He only knew that JJ was daring him to be like everyone else in her life, to show his true colors and betray her trust.
“Why?”
“You really don’t know the answer to that?” The part of him that still wanted to leave—the instinctive impulse of the old Alex—burned dark and shameful. It was overpowered, however, by the part of him that knew—deep down inexplicably knew—that he could go clear around the globe and not escape JJ Jones.
Her face flushed. She walked to the edge of the dock and turned from him, hiding. “Why would I ask a question I know the answer to?”
Adventure Gear’s eloquent visionary should have had a clever answer to that. Something pithy and dashing. Instead, Alex only managed to stand there staring until she turned around. JJ tried hard not to look him in the eye, but the more she dodged him, the stronger his conviction became. “Because I’m supposed to stay.” And then, even though it felt like jumping off a cliff to do so, Alex made himself add, “And because I want to stay.”
Her eyes widened and she backed up against the lamppost. “Max doesn’t need you.”
The panic he’d felt a second ago evaporated, replaced by a resolve that was as strong as it was surprising. He took a step toward her. “I’m not staying for Max.” He reached for her hand.
At first JJ edged out of his grasp, but when he took another step, she stilled her hand and let him grasp it. She was such a warrior to everyone else, yet he could see her wounds with such clarity. He waited until her hand softened, waited until her eyes stopped darting around the riverbank and settled into his gaze.
The world had taught her never to trust.
God had placed him here to undo that lesson, even in this tangled mess.
“I’m staying for you. Because I don’t think we’ve lost the two people who talked all night on this dock. Not yet. I want that back, and I’m willing to fight for it to come back.”
“They’re gone.” The loss in her voice let Alex know those nights had meant as much to her as they did to him. “Bing and Rosemary are gone.”
Alex shook his head as he took her other hand and stepped closer. “No. I don’t believe that. They’re just Alex and JJ now, and we need to figure out how that works.” He ran one finger down the curve of her cheek, his own heart slamming against his chest as he heard her breath catch. “I don’t know how to do this, but I know I want to try. I know I have to try.” He let his fingers slide to the softness of her neck, delighting in how her response to his touch played in her eyes. “The only thing I am sure of is that I could go anywhere in the world and still think of you. I’m supposed to be here, JJ. You’re the one who’s supposed to teach me how to stay.”
“And what do you teach me?” Her voice was whisper soft, tentative, yet full of wonder.
The way she looked at him in that moment, Alex wanted to fly her around the globe and show her every beautiful thing the world had to offer. He leaned in and kissed her. A single small kiss that was more of a gentle promise than a display of the thunder in his heart. “I teach you that not everyone is out to hurt you.”
He pulled her into his arms, delighted that she offered no resistance. “And maybe I can help you come up with a way to put the firehouse guys in their place. After all, I’m known for my creative ideas.”
Chapter Eleven
The next day, JJ walked into the firehouse meeting with a huge jug of laundry soap and two bright yellow laundry baskets.
Wally Foreman, one of the station’s lead pranksters, looked up from the engine fender he was cleaning. “Here to do the wash?”
She gave him a smirk. “Not exactly. Sit tight and I’ll be back in a minute.” Whistling, JJ parked the baskets against her hip and headed for the chief’s office. She and Alex had indeed cooked up a retribution for the guy’s fragrant fiasco the other day, and she was delighted that Bradens had endorsed it when she’d phoned him this morning.
The chief’s conspiratorial grin when she knocked on his office door widened her own smile. “You ready to put those goons in their place?”
“Absolutely.” She nodded at him. “And thanks. For having my back on this, I mean.”
Bradens stood. “I’m all for fun, but they took it too far. I could lecture them on gender sensitivity, but I think this is more of a language they’ll understand. Around here you need to give as good as you get, if you know what I mean.”
She did. “Ten minutes? You’ve got the shirts?”
“Melba picked them up from the hospital foundation this morning.” He reached under his desk to produce a brown paper bag and handed it to her. “You’ve gone up a notch in her view. She lost her mom to breast cancer, you know. She was going to try to get a walk team together on her own, but this is a much better solution.”
JJ grinned. “Nothing is more satisfying than taking a nasty problem and turning it into a golden opportunity, don’t you think?” She’d given Alex a little bit more than a kiss on the cheek when he’d come up with the idea. Creative solutions really were his gift.
Bradens checked his watch. “I’ll let you know in ten minutes.”
The company gave her no end of grief for the domestic props JJ placed on the table in front of her when they all met in the dining room a few minutes later. The wisecracks were predictable and rather lame, but they didn’t really bother her. After all, she knew what was coming, and these poor lugs had no idea what was about to hit them.
The chief called the meeting to order and went through a brief agenda of standard business—shift schedules, new equipment on order, inspections Chad was doing that week, upcoming trainings. “Now,” he said, turning to JJ, “our probie has a little task for all of you. One I trust you’ll enjoy and embrace with all the...enthusiasm I know you possess. And by embrace, I mean this is now required. By me. Without exception.”
That got the guys’ attention. JJ stood and cleare
d her throat. “I can’t say I fully appreciated the welcome you gave me earlier. Let’s simply say it has lingered in my memory.”
“And our noses!” Jesse snickered.
She continued, undaunted and even enjoying the anticipation. “Exactly. All my attempts to put that little stunt behind me haven’t quite worked. I figure it will take eleven washings to get me smelling like a firefighter again instead of a perfume counter.” She walked over and handed the basket to Jesse. It contained no less than a dozen T-shirts, two uniforms and all her turnout gear. “That’s one load for each of you. Jesse, you get to start.”
Jesse’s eye popped. “I’m doing your wash?”
JJ handed him the jug. “And yours. I know I can’t wait to smell like...” She made a show of peering at the bottle. She and Alex had combed the Halverson’s grocery aisle until they’d found the most flowery laundry detergent. “...Lavender Sunshine, can you?”
Jesse looked at Chief Bradens. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
The chief gave a smug nod. “Nope. The way I see it, we’ll be the best-smelling department in the state.”
A chorus of groans rose up, along with loud protests by several of the older firefighters.
“Oh, but gentlemen,” Bradens continued, “that’s not all.”
“Isn’t it enough that we’re going to smell like Girl Scouts?”
JJ took that as her cue to pull out one of the T-shirts from her bag. She gleefully peered around the bright pink shirt as she watched the men take in the lettering on the front that read Real Men Wear Pink. The groans escalated so much she had to shout to be heard. “The chief and I signed all of you up to take part in the Breast Cancer Awareness walk the hospital is doing in August. I named our team The Fumigators. It’ll be fun.”
“That would be mandatory fun, just in case you were wondering,” Bradens added, reaching into the bag and tossing a shirt to Jesse.
“We have to wear these? In public?” Wally looked mortified as Jesse held the shirt up to his chest to a flurry of whistles and catcalls.
“I think you’re man enough to handle it,” JJ added. “Think of it this way—do you know anyone who’s had breast cancer? Anyone who’s lost someone they love to the disease?”
“My wife’s sister,” Wally said quietly. The man’s face changed completely, going from annoyed to serious so fast JJ nearly gulped. “So, yeah,” Wally addressed the company, “what’s a little pink for a good cause? I say we call sweetie pie’s bluff here and walk in the dumb shirts.”
It was the most backhanded show of support JJ had ever seen. When Wally cuffed her shoulder as though she were “one of the guys,” JJ hid her annoyance and took it for the initiation it was. She’d done what she came to do: join GFVFD on her own terms as an equal...until the next prank came along.
At least she’d gotten a bit of her own back with this one. And she had Alex to thank for it.
* * *
Alex watched JJ leave the rehabilitation center from his table at the coffee shop where he’d been churning through emails. Actually, having an email argument with Sam was closer to the truth. He knew he ought to just bite the bullet and call his brother, but he couldn’t bring himself to open up that floodgate of conflict today. Sam was being a first-class jerk, and he wondered what that was doing to the company atmosphere back in Denver.
As JJ crossed the street, it was clear her visit to Max hadn’t gone well. By the time she slumped into the seat opposite him, he could tell she was fighting back tears.
“Not a good day?”
JJ pushed out a frustrated breath. “He’s a mess, Alex. He’s in a spot where every weakness he’s got is his worst enemy.”
I know the feeling, Alex thought. “Sorry to hear that.”
“He’s not the kind of guy who can handle this. He’s got no patience, he’s anything but focused, he’s quick-tempered and pessimistic...” She ticked Max’s faults off on her fingers until her hand balled up into a fist. “No wonder he’s gone through three physical therapists since he got hurt. I love him and I wanted to sock him after half an hour!”
Alex grabbed the fist and uncurled her fingers. “Maybe it’s a phase. I get the sense that all patients go through an angry stretch. I did some reading, and Max’s reactions don’t sound that unusual when you consider what he’s facing. Anger is one of the stages of grief, and he’s lost a lot of the life he used to know. Of course he’s grieving.”
JJ sighed, picked up Alex’s coffee and peered inside the mug.
“I wouldn’t...” Before he could get another word out, JJ promptly downed the brew. He knew that for the mistake it was and tried not to laugh when she scrunched up her face.
“That’s awful!” she sputtered. “I drank army coffee and this is ten times worse. Is that even coffee?”
“It’s a particularly bitter exotic blend I’ve grown to love since Africa. How about I order you one of your own? Something a bit more your style?”
“Absolutely.” She stuck out her tongue. “I may need two cups of real coffee to get that taste out of my mouth.”
“Sit tight, come down off the ledge Max pushed you out on and I’ll be right back.”
Alex stood in line, enjoying the idea of selecting the perfect cup of coffee for JJ. He knew a lot about coffee from his travels—too much, probably—but he didn’t know enough about JJ to feel confident in his choice. He didn’t like the way that felt. This tiny window into how little he and JJ actually knew about each other seemed to war with the instant deep familiarity that had stunned him on the dock. It’s just a detail, he told himself as he ordered a caramel macchiato on gut instinct. What we do know about each other is the real stuff, the stuff that matters.
They hadn’t had the luxury of learning one another’s habits bit by bit. They’d been thrown into full-out crisis mode so quickly after they met that he hadn’t even taken her on anything that would be considered a date.
Alex liked to date. He was very good at it. He could dream up marvelously inventive ways to spend time with women, but it was more about entertainment than involvement. He had fun, but he’d never really fallen for any of the woman he dated. Doc had given him no end of grief about his social life, but Alex had always made it a point to be forthright with women when things didn’t click. And they never had. Now it was so far beyond “clicking” Alex had no idea how to handle it. For all his exploits, who would have thought that a simple night on a dock would be the thing to finally unlock his heart?
The thought stopped him even while he accepted the steaming drink from the barista. Had his heart unlocked? Is that it, Lord? he thought, a bit stunned. Is JJ the one for me? Their paths to each other seemed far too rocky for that to be true, but then again, maybe that’s what made him treasure the relationship all the more.
Smiling, Alex turned the corner to the little window table, ready to present his gift of a cup of coffee to JJ. Only she was gone. There was no sign of her—no handbag, nothing. He looked around, stumped.
A spike-haired teen in a tattered leather jacket at the next table sat back in his chair. “Shouldn’t ever let your girl read your emails, man. Even I know that.”
Alex glared at the guy. “Huh?”
“Your laptop binged and she turned it to look at it. Whatever she read ticked her off big time, bro, and she was outta here. You two-timing her or something?”
Alex stomach turned more acidic than his coffee. He’d left his email up. Sam. Nearly slamming the coffee down on the table, Alex flipped open the laptop JJ had shut to see an open email with the subject heading “Max Jones.”
Well, of course she would read that; he couldn’t blame her. He scanned down the window to the text, afraid for what idiocy Sam had spouted now. It couldn’t have been worse.
Things are out of control, and you need to do something. The one advantage we had was how close you were keeping to the Jones family, and now even that’s failed. It’s supposed to be your gift, charming people. I was tolerating your AWOL attitu
de because I knew we need that advantage.
We’ve lost it, no thanks to you. Read below for an announcement from Jones and see what I mean. How could you not know they were falling in with Tony Daxon? You told me they’d talked about their intent to file, but you never mentioned Daxon. He’ll wipe the floor with us, Alex. The studio can take that kind of a hit, or throw enough legal at him to fend him off, but in case you haven’t noticed, we don’t have endless legal resources for that kind of thing. Morgan is pitching fits, and you’re needed back here since it’s obvious your sticking close to the Jones family hasn’t done us much good.
Time to decide if AG still matters to you.
Alex wanted to throw his laptop across the room, but instead he scrolled down to the attached email from Max Jones. It was generated from Max’s Personal Patient Page at the hospital, a web service designed to help patients keep their friends and family informed during treatment.
Alex sat down, trying to absorb the document as fast as possible. He knew from the cumbersome list of directions at his cabin that Max wasn’t much of a writer. It didn’t take a genius to see that a PR firm had crafted this update.
The cleverly worded “Note from Max” pitched a heartwarming human-interest story of two companies pooling resources to help an unfortunate athlete who’d met with a life-changing injury. The tone was cheerful, hopeful, cooperative—everything JJ had just told him Max wasn’t. Alex wasn’t surprised at all to see small print at the bottom that just happened to mention that copies of the announcement had gone to all three major city newspapers and four television stations in the Chicago area.
This was just the kind of ambush injury attorney Tony Daxon was known to be—creatively underhanded and full of media showmanship. Alex was sure it had been a true ambush, with no warning given prior to the announcement’s arrival. If anyone had talked to AG, Sam would have been all over it and feeding all the details to Alex. It didn’t take much imagination to see where this was heading, and in a disgusting, Daxon-esque way, it was rather brilliant. According to the note, Max was calling a press conference of sorts for tomorrow—just enough time to make it supremely difficult but not impossible for AG or the studio to show up at all, much less show up prepared.
The Firefighter's Match Page 10
