by Lynne Silver
Jason had been there to whisper to and talk to, and well, let’s face it, admire. He was pure and total eye candy in his suit. Even Lance’s uptight date had been ogling Jason, but sneered slightly when Jason had admitted to being a firefighter. What a bitch. She had a strong suspicion Lance had hustled her into a taxi and gone home alone.
She wasn’t going home alone. No, she was going home with the most gorgeous guy at the party. Maybe the most gorgeous guy in the city.
“You’re drunk.” Jason laughed then took his hand off the wheel for a second to pat her thigh. “But I appreciate the sentiment that I’m the most gorgeous man.”
Had she said that aloud? “I am too drunk. I mean, I’m not. I only had…” She held up her hand, palm side to her face, and lifted a few fingers. “A few glasses of wine.”
“You may have lost count. Hell, those waiters kept coming around to pour more and more wine. I should call my friends at the station and tell them to be on the lookout for drunk drivers tonight.”
“You’re funny.” She laughed and hiccupped at the same time. She swung her head slightly, careful to keep it connected with the head support of the seat. “I had fun tonight.”
“Anyone with that much wine in them would have fun.”
“No, I mean I had fun with you.” She tried to sit up, knowing what she had to say was important, but struggling to get the right words out. “I have fun with you. I don’t think I’ve had fun in a long time.”
He gave her a serious look. “I’m glad,” he said quietly.
“No, I’m glad I met you.” She closed her eyes and let the rhythm of the car carry her away. Jason may have thought she was drunk, but it was merely a pleasant tipsiness, the kind where it felt as if you were watching a play of your own life but aware of everything happening. She kept her eyes closed for the rest of the ride. The next thing she knew, they were in front of Jason’s building, and he was leaning into the car, to carry her out. She tried to wave him off, but he easily scooped her up, kicking the door shut behind him as they walked into the building.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted tiny kisses on all the exposed skin she could reach. “Mm, you smell good. You taste good, too,” she said, darting her tongue out to lick a tiny swath of his neck.
His chest rumbled against her side as he chuckled. “Val, stop or I’ll drop you.”
“No you won’t,” she said dreamily. “You’re a strong firefighter. A hero. My hero.” She could hear the words pouring like water out of her mouth with no rhyme or reason, but she couldn’t seem to stop them. “I want to have sex with you all night long.” She flung her head back, trusting his arms to hold her tight.
“Sounds like a plan,” he said, “but maybe you need to sober up a bit.”
She froze in his arms then wiggled until he caught her intent and set her on her feet. With hands on her hips, she looked up at him. “I’m sober enough. You make me feel drunk. Now take me upstairs and have your wicked way with me.”
He grinned at her and grabbed her hand. “A direct order I can follow. Let’s go.”
Only when they got to his bedroom, the room was spinning. Maybe she’d had a teensy more to drink than she’d thought. It had been so long since she’d had more than one glass of wine that she hadn’t counted on its effect on her body.
His bed was now looking as good as Cinderella’s castle did to a five-year-old.
“Sleep?” he said at her side. When she realized his arm was the only thing holding her up, she nodded. Oh, bad idea. No more sudden head movements. She grabbed the overnight bag she’d packed and made a dash for the bathroom. A knock came at the door.
“You okay in there, honey?”
“I’m okay. I need a few minutes.”
“All right, give a shout if you need me.”
She stared into the mirror, seeing two of her. “Oh, boy,” she muttered. If this was drunk, she wasn’t going here again. Ever.
Slowly and carefully, she got ready for bed. She exited the bathroom with makeup removed, teeth brushed, flannel pajamas on, and sleep socks rolled to her knees. She wasn’t drunk enough that she’d forget that crucial piece of sleepwear. Jason was sitting against his headboard, remote in hand. He glanced up as she gingerly crawled into bed.
“Better?”
She nodded, then froze as her head spun from the movement. “No.”
He laughed. “I’m getting you some aspirin.” He rose and headed for the bathroom. “When was the last time you were drunk?”
“Try never.”
He returned, kneeling at her side with two white capsules and a tall glass of water. “I’ll take care of you, baby.”
“Thank you.” That was the last she remembered until the next morning when she woke up as light streamed through a crack in the window shades. Blinking, she rolled her back to the light and caught a glimpse of the clock on the nightstand. Ten in the morning. She hadn’t slept this late in a long time. She’d apparently slept off any remnants of all the wine she’d drunk last night, because other than being thirsty, she felt fine. No headache or dizziness. Thank you, Jason, for the Tylenol.
It just went to show she was a lightweight when it came to alcohol, because she was sure she hadn’t had more than two glasses or maybe two hundred total last night. It was just that the wait staff kept topping off her glass before she could drain it.
She was now alone in Jason’s big bed. There was no sign of Jason. Oh, that’s right, he’d mentioned last night he had the early shift this morning. After she blinked again, a piece of paper near the clock came into focus.
Reaching to get it caused her muscles in all sorts of places to scream in protest. Jason had left her alone sexually last night, but she vaguely recalled that they’d slept snuggled in each other’s arms. Another stretch brought the paper into her fingers.
Val, I had to go to work. I’ll meet you at your parents’ tomorrow morning to help you move. Stay here as long as you want. Stay forever.
Love, Jason
P.S. Got a ride from a friend to get my truck. Your car is in the lot.
She blinked back tears at the short but powerful note and smiled at his sweet offer. Of course it was ridiculous. She and Jason were a new thing. Not ready to move in together. Yet she lay back in Jason’s bed with no urge to move or get started on her day. It felt good and right to be here.
A smile kept forming on her lips as she realized she was happy. Happier than she’d been in a long time. Grabbing the remote control, she flipped on the television to a weekend talk show, but didn’t really follow along. It was more for the company because she wasn’t quite ready to leave Jason’s apartment and face the world. It was cozy being up here alone, and she decided to go search for a good book to read while she snuggled in bed.
She climbed out of bed, looking around for something to read. Her dress from last night was nowhere in sight. Hmmm. She went to the closet, and there on the bar was her dress perfectly hung. Jason must have done it. Her last memory of the dress was dropping it in place on the bathroom floor. How sweet of him to know she’d want the new dress taken care of.
The closet was bereft of anything other than clothes, so she headed to the living room. It was pretty Spartan in there. No bookshelves full of books and tchotchkes, no framed photographs of smiling family members.
She went to the low glossy shelving unit holding up his other TV. Leave it to a man to have two nice televisions and almost nothing else. A high school yearbook caught her attention from the second shelf. That was as good a read as anything else. She pulled it out and got comfortable on the couch. From the year stamped on the cover, she guessed it was Jason’s senior yearbook. Faded pen and marker notes were scrawled haphazardly all over the front few pages. Thumbing through the pages, she turned to the M’s and found Jason’s face, with an easy grin staring up at her. She smiled at eighteen-year-old Jason, who looked very similar to how he did now. His current body was a little more muscular and his face had appealing signs of weather
ing, but otherwise, he looked the same.
She thumbed through it some more looking for which activities he’d been part of, but couldn’t find anything more than his class photo. She remembered he’d told her he’d been a volunteer firefighter from the age of sixteen. That must have been his big after-school activity. For a boy who hated school, joining after-school activities would’ve been counterintuitive. He would’ve wanted to be in the parking lot leaving within moments of the dismissal bell.
It hadn’t meant he wasn’t well liked, however. The plethora of well wishes and injunctions to keep in touch were marked on every possible blank space of the yearbook. A lot of the handwriting looked feminine. She read some of the messages, but they were the usual teenage stuff, nothing to give her any insight into Jason as a person.
Next to the yearbook was a framed picture of Jason in his formal uniform. He looked so handsome and happy she smiled and actually planted a tiny kiss on the photo before laughing at herself. Look at her, acting like a teenager, snooping through her boyfriend’s things and kissing his picture.
“Good lord, get it together, Val,” she said aloud. She headed for the kitchen and a glass of water or juice. Jason’s fridge and pantry proved to be as bare bones as the rest of his apartment. He had the leftovers from the dinner they’d cooked on Wednesday, but not much else. She guessed he ate most of his meals at the station or at restaurants. There wasn’t much need to have a stocked pantry here. A lot of it would probably spoil before he could get to it.
She ate a quick breakfast, used his shower, and pulled on the clothes she’d packed. Finally, she grabbed her purse and prepared to head for home. She had a long day of packing ahead. Her apartment was finally clean of mold from the water leak and repainted. Jason would be over early the next morning to help her load up his truck and move her back.
The next morning, she zipped up another bag and debated dragging it down the stairs. There seemed no point when she’d have a strong fireman coming any minute to carry her things. But she was no helpless ninny. Huffing and heaving, she dragged the bag to the front hall. Two other bags followed. What had she been thinking moving her whole wardrobe to her parents’ house for the two weeks that had stretched into more? The building manager definitely owed her serious money off her rent. Tonight Jason would get to sleep at her place. In her sheets.
She glanced at her phone. It was eight thirty. Jason would be there any minute. Nine o’clock rolled around, but no worries. She assumed he was at his apartment showering after a long shift. Ten o’clock found her on the couch in the living room with the local news on, cell phone in hand. He hadn’t responded to the text or the phone call she’d allowed herself to make at 10:01.
She checked the Twitter account for the local fire department in the off chance they’d updated it with news of a major event that would delay Jason. According to the feed, there was a house fire in the county. Units had been en route two hours previously. The time when Jason was supposed to get off shift and come to her.
She dialed Jason’s number again, holding her breath while she waited for his deep voice to answer. Straight to voice mail.
For a long minute, she forgot how to breathe, and clenched her phone in a shaking hand. This was what it meant to be with a fireman, but perhaps she was being melodramatic. This was Jason’s job, and he was well trained and cautious. She needed to get her fear under control.
Plus, he was fighting a fire. It wasn’t as if he could hold a hose and talk on the phone at the same time. Another tiny sprinkle of fear ate at her, but she pushed it back. He didn’t owe her an hourly phone call.
“Hi, Dad,” she said, looking up from her phone at the noise in the kitchen. Her dad was in the kitchen, pouring a glass of juice. He was in a navy suit with his tie unknotted around his neck. “You look pretty spiffy for a Sunday. Where are you headed?” she asked.
“Judy got us tickets to a matinee at the Kennedy Center. We’re meeting the Weinsteins after.”
She’d debated telling him that Jason was late helping her move, but then Dad would cancel their plans and she’d feel guilty. “Have fun.” She stood to head up to her room.
“What time is Jason coming to help you move?” her father asked before she left the room.
She spun back, knowing she’d gotten off light to only get asked about moving. Dad had to be dying to ask more about Jason. After all, she hadn’t slept at home Friday night. Nor had they had a heart to heart about her new relationship. She knew Judy had told him to back off, but there was only so much a father could take.
“He’s running a little late. I think they got a call, but he should be here soon.” With effort, she kept her tone light and easy. No need to add her father’s worry to her own.
“All right. If you need more help, let me know.”
“Will do.” She took a step to leave.
“Love you, Valley girl,” came his voice from the kitchen as her foot hit the first stair.
“Love you, too, Daddy.”
She hurried up to her room, trying to decide what to do. She could move herself and catch up with Jason later. Or she could hang out here and catch up on any number of shows she hadn’t seen since their first season. Maybe she’d try Jason one more time.
She texted him. Everything all right? Waiting to move. We can reschedule if necessary. Love, Val. She debated over the L word for a minute and decided on keeping it. Signing a letter or e-mail with love was totally different than looking Jason in the eye and saying I love you. She stared at the screen another second then hit Send.
Another hour went by and still nothing. No word from Jason. She’d kept busy surfing the Internet but all the while there’d been a nagging in her gut telling her something wasn’t right. He should’ve called by now or texted. The station would call her if something happened to him, right? Who was she kidding? No one at the station even knew they were dating. She didn’t have his parents’ information to call them to learn if something had happened to Jason.
Oh God, what if he were hurt or dead. No one would ever know to call her, and she’d be left in the dark for a long time. Nausea rose in her stomach, and she curled into herself on her desk chair. She needed to get it together. Now. Jason was a capable firefighter. There was no reason to think he was hurt. Except…except firefighting was a dangerous job.
She could look up his parents on the Internet. She knew their last name and they lived in Aberdeen. No problem. She pulled up the proper web page and froze in her chair, hand on the mouse. What if all was well, and she was simply panicking? If she called his parents, they’d be made to worry for no reason. It’d be a fine introduction to his parents. Hi, I’m Valerie Wainwright, the woman who’s shagging your son. I think he may be seriously injured but I have no proof other than he hasn’t contacted me in a few hours. Um, yeah, no. She’d be labeled paranoid at best or crazy.
She could call the station. So what if Jason hadn’t told anyone there they were dating? She knew it was only to protect her. She didn’t care anymore, especially since the PR project was winding down. Let their relationship go public.
She called the station. The phone rang a few times, and went to voice mail. Now her heart was really pounding. They were all at an emergency call. Maybe it was simply a really busy day with back-to-back calls, and he’d had no time to call. She was sure that was it.
Except…She could go over. There was no reason not to. She could even bake cookies or a meal and bring it over. It was a nice girlfriend gesture to do, right?
Decision made, she ran downstairs. Her parents had long left for the theater by now. She slipped on her shoes and got in her car. She’d pick up some food on the way. She wasn’t really the baking, Martha Stewart type anyway.
Thirty minutes later, armed with a platter of burritos and nachos, she pulled into the station parking lot. The hook and ladder truck was being backed into the large bay as she parked. Relief swamped her. Any second Jason would climb out of the truck and she could give him and the crew lun
ch after a long morning.
She slipped into the station house and waited by the glass door with a view into the truck garage. One by one, the crew climbed off, only no Jason. With her heart in her throat, she pushed her way into the garage and headed off Dan.
His face was blackened with soot and grease and who knew what else. Lines bracketed the corners of his mouth, but he smiled faintly when he saw her. “Valerie. What are you doing here?”
She didn’t have energy for polite words. “Where’s Jason? What happened?” Something had happened; she was convinced of it. Her grip on the hot metal aluminum platter of Mexican food slid and she struggled to right it.
A frown crossed Dan’s face. “Jason? Why are you asking about Jason?”
“Tell me.”
He took a step closer. “There was a bad fire. The roof caved.”
She lowered the food platter to the ground, with a thud. All her attention was on Dan. “He’s alive. Tell me he’s alive.”
Dan’s face was puzzled, as if he couldn’t figure out why she cared so much about one of his crew.
“Tell me,” she said. “Where is he?”
“He’s at Arlington Hospital in the Burn Center.”
Oh God. Ohmygod. Without wasting another second talking to Dan, she turned and sprinted through the building then out to her car. She could hear Dan’s voice yelling something after her, but she didn’t stop to listen. She was in her car and spinning out onto the main street before she took a full breath. Her seatbelt wasn’t clicked until the first red light.
Long-forgotten images of her curled under her covers in a dark room filling with smoke entered her mind, and she had to force her attention back on the road. Had the memories truly been forgotten, or had she blocked them? The thing she remembered most was the heat and the odd sounds that had woken her up. The suppressed memories woke her on occasion in the middle of the night in a pool of terrorized sweat, but she never awoke with the details of the dream; and only retained a fear so deep it had weight and depth.
