Crazy, Hot Love

by K. L. Grayson

  “He’s going to be fine, dear,” she says with a smile that tells me he’s been called away from family dinner before.

  “She’s right,” Adley says. “This sort of thing happens all the time. We usually don’t schedule dinners when he’s on call because he inevitably ends up having to leave.”

  Oh God. Can I do this? Can I handle him leaving mid-dinner every time that pager goes off? And what if it goes off during Easter mass or our kids’ Christmas concert? Will he get up and leave?

  Who am I kidding? Of course he will, the same way my dad did.

  I scoot my chair back and stand up again, looking at Mo. “Could you take me home?”

  She glances worriedly between me and Rhett, then stands up. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you need.”

  I nod. “Let me grab my purse.”

  I walk away from the table with eight sets of eyes burning a hole in the back of my head, everyone no doubt wondering if I’m on the verge of some sort of breakdown. They all know my history—the history of my father—but no one but Trevor really understands the internal struggle I’ve had with my father’s death.

  The back door slides open, and I step inside the house, grateful for the momentary reprieve. I grab my purse where I left it on the couch and look up to find the TV on. It’s muted, so I can’t hear what’s being said, but there’s a picture of a large building on fire, and then it fades to a reporter. I grab the remote from the coffee table and turn it up.

  “Authorities in the Dayton area say a fire broke out in this abandoned warehouse earlier this evening. So far nine people are confirmed dead, twelve injured, and several more remain unaccounted for. It is unknown what caused the fire, but crews have been working to contain it for over an hour. We are live on scene and will keep you updated with any new information. Steve, back to you.”

  “Claire? Are you okay?” Mo asks.

  “It looks bad, doesn’t it?” I say, staring at the TV.

  The reporter may have finished her piece, but the camera is still zoomed in on the fire. There are flashing lights and people running everywhere, and it makes me sick knowing Trevor is among the crowd. Even worse, I don’t know where. Is he on a hose in the building, the way he was when he found me? Or is he standing back, manning the crowd the way firefighters sometimes do?

  “Come on, let’s get you home. Rhett is going to follow us. I’ve already got Milo in the truck.”

  I’m on autopilot, painting on a fake smile and overly cheerful voice as I thank Vivian and Sawyer for having me over for dinner. I wave goodbye to everyone else, refusing for a second time to get too close to my mother, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I’m safe and sound inside Mo’s truck.

  As soon as I’m seated, Milo crawls into my lap. She presses her head against my chest as though she knows how bad it’s hurting.

  “Drive to the fire.”

  “What?” Mo looks between me and the road. “No, Claire. I don’t know much about fires, but I know that’s not something you do.”

  “Please, Mo. We don’t have to get close, but I need to be there if something happens.”

  “Nothing is going to happen.”

  “You don’t know that,” I shout. “Please, Mo. Please, just take me.”

  “Rhett is going to kill me.” She looks in her rearview mirror and side mirror and then executes a perfect three-point turn. A second later we fly past Rhett’s truck going the opposite direction. Mo looks in her rearview mirror and flinches when she sees Rhett whip a U-turn in the middle of the road.

  Her phone rings through the Bluetooth and she hits the answer button on the screen on her dash. “You’re on speaker,” she says.

  “I don’t care if the Pope can hear me. Where are you going? Do you know how dangerous it is to turn around like that on the highway?”

  “Oh, and your U-turn was so much better?” she counters.

  “Mo,” Rhett warns. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking Claire to the fire. But don’t worry, we’re not going to get close,” she adds

  Rhett laughs, but it lacks any sort of humor. “Don’t worry? Are you two stupid? You know better than to do something like that.”

  “Don’t be mad at her,” I tell him. “I asked her to take me.”

  “And she could’ve said no.”

  Mo rolls her eyes.

  “Turn around,” he orders.

  Mo scowls at her dash. “No.”

  “Monroe Danielle Gallagher, turn your truck around.”

  “Absolutely not. She needs to be there, Rhett. If the situation was reversed and you were about to run into an inferno, I’d want to be there, too, and I hope to God she’d take me if I asked.”

  We listen to Rhett sigh through the phone. Mo gives me a tight smile and a thumbs up low enough that Rhett wouldn’t be able to see it through the window.

  “You don’t even know where you’re going.”

  “Dayton. It’s a small town. We’ll look for the plume of smoke.”

  There’s a long pause filled with lots of white noise, and then Rhett gives in.

  “Fine, but do not get close, and do not get out of your car. The last thing Trevor needs is to see you there. He needs his head in the game for this sort of shit, Claire.”

  “I know. We promise.”

  Mo disconnects the call and looks at me. “You owe me big time for this.”

  44

  Claire

  I’m not ready.

  I’ve been sitting outside the fire in Mo’s car for over three hours now, and I’ve come to that conclusion. I’m not ready to be with a man who risks his life every single day. The amount of fear and anxiety that has raced through my body as I’ve watched men run in and out the building, pulling out victims and collapsing on the ground beside them, has been immeasurable.

  I’d like to think my love for Trevor would outweigh any of this, but I’m not sure it would, and I don’t know how to move forward without hurting him. I’ve tried to think about all the wonderful times we’ve had together over the years—and particularly more recently—but it only reinforces what I already know: I love Trevor, and it would kill me if something happened to him.

  I’m just not sure how I walk away from this taste of his love with my heart intact. I’m pretty sure the answer is I don’t. But I also don’t know how to move forward. What I do know is I have a decision to make, a decision that will impact my life as well as Trevor’s, and I have to make sure we’re not only on the same page, but that I’m giving him everything I have to offer. As it stands right now, I’m not sure that’s much.

  How am I supposed to give someone my whole heart when that heart is weighed down by so much dread?

  I’m thinking about what I should do and what I shouldn’t, trying to work it all out in my head, when I see a familiar figure walking down the road. It’s dark out, but the lights from the streetlamps and emergency vehicles provides enough luminescence, and what I see takes my breath away.

  Trevor.

  Milo wakes up when I lift her from my lap. I hand her to Mo and step out of the truck to watch him. His helmet dangles from his fingertips, his coat is draped over his arm, and his straps are hanging beside his hips. His hair sticks up in a hundred different directions, and he looks exhausted.

  In this moment, my heart fills with so much joy and love, pushing away all of my fear and insecurities, and I take a step forward. The movement much catch Trevor’s attention, because his head snaps up, and he stops in the middle of the road.

  He stands there, unmoving, as I take another step and then another and another, and before I know it, I’m running full speed, slamming into his chest, and he catches me, because Trevor will always catch me. His arms circle around me in a tight band. I don’t care that he’s black from soot and smells of smoke, I hold on to him and don’t let go.

  “I was so worried about you,” I breathe into his neck.

  “I told you I’d be home.”

  I nod, unable to get any words out because
of the thickness in my throat and the heaviness in my heart. It feels surreal to have him in my arms again, and I’m saddened all over again because I know I have some choices to make. Choices I don’t want to make, because I love him, and I want him, and I this is why I have to get my shit together. But I don’t think I can.

  Trevor makes no move to let me go. He seems content to stand here holding me for as long as I need, but when a car pulls up behind us and honks, I reluctantly step back.

  With my hand wrapped in his, Trevor pulls me toward Mo and Rhett’s trucks. They get out when they see us approaching.

  “What are you guys doing here?” Trevor asks, stopping at the back of Rhett’s truck. “It’s late.”

  “Someone insisted we come here,” Rhett says, hooking a thumb in my direction.

  Trevor’s hand tightens on mine. “Come on, baby, let’s get you home.”

  This is it.

  I tug his hand when he tries to lead me away. “Rhett, Mo, give us a second, will ya?”

  They exchange glances, and then Rhett’s eyes linger on mine. I can tell he doesn’t want to leave his brother, but I’m not doing this in front of him.

  Trevor watches my silent exchange with his brother and then pulls his bunker gear down his body, bunching it over his boots. He steps out and tosses it in the back of Rhett’s truck.

  “I’m parked two blocks over. Can you toss this in the bed of my truck and bring back my shoes?”

  “Yeah, no problem. Come on, Mo.” Rhett opens the door for Mo, and we watch them pull away.

  Trevor pulls Mo’s tailgate down and leans against it. Despite the bunker gear, his clothes are filthy, and my heart flips over in my chest at what a wonderful, brave man he is, which makes what I have to do that much harder.

  Milo is awake now, and she must sense Trevor’s presence, because I see her tiny head bopping in the window. She’s trying to get his attention, but Trevor can’t see her.

  “Come here.” I take his outstretched hand and sit next to him on the tailgate. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks.

  “I feel like I should be asking you that.”

  Trevor looks back at the mess behind us—the strung-out hoses, pile of rubble where the building used to sit—and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing I am. He’s lucky to be alive.

  “I’m fine,” he says. “I promise.”

  I know he is—I know it, but I’m not fine. Far from it.

  Rhett and Mo pull up alongside us. Rhett hands Trevor his boots, which he slips on. “We’ll be right over here.”

  Rhett parks down the road, giving us the privacy I asked for.

  Trevor squeezes my fingers. “Come on, Claire, let me take you home.” He tugs on my hand, but I take a step back.

  Trevor furrows his brow and watches me.

  “I’m, uh…I’m going to get a ride with Mo.”

  His face is blank. “Why?”

  “It’s late, and I’m sure you’re drained. You probably want to get home and get cleaned up,” I say, unable to look him in the eye.

  “Look at me.”

  I don’t.

  “Look at me, Claire.”

  Swallowing, I look up.

  “That’s better. And yes, I want to go home and get cleaned up, but I also want to be with you.”

  “I’m tired. Watching all of this has been exhausting.”

  “Okay, then we’ll go home and sleep and talk about it tomorrow.”

  “No, Trevor.”

  He shakes his head and runs a hand over his tired eyes. “Cut the bullshit, Claire, and tell me what’s really going on.”

  “Fine.” I take a deep breath and square my shoulders, as if the movement will give me the strength I need. “I have a lot on my mind, and I need to think.”

  “Does this have to do with the fire?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “It has nothing to do with the fire.”

  “You don’t want to be around me, is that it?”

  “No,” I growl. “I just need some space to think, Trevor. All of this—us—has happened so fast, and I need a second to work it all out in my head. I think you do too.”

  “Work what out? This morning you couldn’t get enough of me and we were making plans for the weekend, and now you’re asking for space. Excuse me if I’m a little confused.”

  “A lot has happened this evening, Trevor.”

  “So this is about the fire.” He rubs a hand along his jaw. He tries to reach for my hand again, but I pull back. His face falls—the look pulling me deeper and deeper into the dark hole I’m already in. “What are you doing, Claire?”

  I’m ripping my heart out, Trevor, that’s what I’m doing. “I’m protecting you.”

  His jaw clenches tight. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re protecting yourself. You said you loved me,” he whispers.

  “I do love you.”

  “I’m not so sure, Claire. I believe you love the idea of me—of us. But if you loved me, you’d let me take you home, and we’d work through whatever shit is running through your head together.”

  “Don’t you get it? I love you so goddamn much I can’t see straight.” I shove my fingers into my hair and pace the length of Mo’s truck, Trevor’s eyes tracking my every move. “When you’re around, I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff. I can’t think, let alone form words, and I’m seconds away from hurling myself off the edge, and that’s terrifying. What if you’re not there to catch me?”

  “Claire—”

  I hold a hand up, stopping Trevor. “I lied. This is about the fire. Watching you tonight made me remember all of the reasons I stayed away from you, and this is it.” I wave toward the scene surrounding us. “I thought I could do this, but now I’m not so sure. I need to know that if I jump, you’re going be there to catch me. And I don’t just mean in that moment; I mean for the rest of our lives. I need to know you’re not going to leave me the way my father did.”

  Trevor takes a step back and stares at me. “So, what? You’re breaking up with me? Is that what this is? You want me to walk away and forget everything that’s happened between us because you’re scared? I can’t do that, Claire.”

  “I don’t know what I want. That’s the problem. All I could think about while you were fighting that fire is how much it would destroy me if something happened to you. I didn’t know what you were doing—if you were inside the fire or fighting it from the outside—and that scared me. I thought about my dad and the pain I went through after his death—the pain my mother went through—and I can’t do that again.” My voice cracks, along with my heart, and I look down.

  “Claire…” Trevor grabs my face and forces me to look at him. “I can’t guarantee that I won’t get hurt, or that my job won’t someday claim my life. But I can promise you I will always use my head. I will follow protocols and approach situations with a clear mind, and I will always do everything in my power to come home to you at the end of the day.”

  I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to feel. I just have so many thoughts, and they’re all jumbled, and I can’t seem to process them.

  Trevor drops his hands from my face. “But this is what I do, Claire. I run into burning buildings when other people are running out. I risk my life because it means saving someone else’s. I love you, Claire, and I would do anything for you, but you have to accept that firefighting is a part of my life—a huge part that was influenced by your father—and I won’t change that. I think you’re overwhelmed right now. Tonight was as exhausting for you as it was for me. You need to rest and eat and think about things, and tomorrow you’ll look at all of this differently… You’ll see it the way I see it.”

  “And how do you see it?”

  “I would rather love you and risk losing you than not have you at all, because my life doesn’t work without you in it. But if you don’t feel the same way, we’re never going to make it. That’s the kind of love I want. It’s the kind I deserve.”

  I shake my he
ad. “I don’t know, Trevor.”

  “I do. Life is one big gamble, Claire. You can either play with the cards you’re dealt or you can sit out and watch, and I’d rather play. I will always choose to play. I want to do more than play, I want to win. I want the jackpot, and that’s you.”

  I look over Trevor’s shoulder, concentrating on a group of firemen loading into a truck because it’s easier than looking him in the eye. “You should go, Trevor.”

  “Don’t do this, Claire. If you’re scared, don’t run away from me, baby, run to me.”

  His words are too much. Closing my eyes, I shake my head.

  “You are a lot of things, Claire. You’re beautiful, smart, and caring. You’re determined and strong and loyal, but you’re also a coward, and you better pull your head out of your ass before you ruin the best damn thing that’s ever happened to you.”

  45

  Claire

  Stunned by his words, all I can do is stand there, and when I don’t respond, Trevor curses under his breath and walks away. Off in the distance, I see Mo jump out of Rhett’s truck. Trevor stops and says something to Rhett as Mo runs toward me. She grabs my arm, pulling me toward her vehicle, but I can’t move. I watch Trevor climb into the seat Mo just vacated, and the moment Rhett turns the corner, I feel empty.

  Immediately I begin to wonder if I’ve made a huge mistake, and I suspect I don’t deserve the chance to make it right.

  “Come on, Claire. Let’s go.”

  I hop into Mo’s truck, brushing Milo off my lap when she jumps from the backseat into the front. “Take me home, please.”

  Mo worries her lip. “I’m not sure you should go home, Claire. Come back to my place. I’ll make some hot chocolate, we can eat ice cream, and we’ll talk all of this out…or not. We can get rip-roaring drunk if you’d rather. I just don’t think you should be alone right now.”

  I love Mo, and I love that she cares, but I don’t want hot chocolate, the thought of eating something makes my stomach roll, and I sure as hell don’t want to talk because she won’t understand.