Erik chuckled, and he sat in the remaining chair, grateful for the man’s good grace and humor. “I should introduce you to my buddy Smoke. You guys can bond over your obvious sense of modesty and compete for how many ladies’ numbers you can bring home in a night.”
“Sounds like my kind of guy, but my digit-collecting days are over.”
He glanced at Cody’s left hand. “No ring yet?”
“There will be soon.” Cody flipped a framed picture around on his desk of what appeared to be an engagement photo of the happy couple with her ring hand on prominent display. “Wedding’s in a couple of months.”
“Congratulations, man, that’s awesome.”
“Thanks,” he said, returning the picture to its original position. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“A special someone. I mean, at your age, all your good years are behind you, so you probably shouldn’t wait too long to lock something down, you know?”
Erik tried to hide his smile behind the hand that scratched over the beard growth on his jaw, but there was no point. The kid wasn’t about to take him seriously even if he managed to appear offended.
“Yeah, okay, smart-ass. I deserved that one.” They shared a quick laugh, but when it died out, Cody raised an expectant eyebrow. Fuck, thinking about Olivia killed him. Clearing his throat and adjusting in his seat, Erik said, “There is someone, but we can’t be together right now, and I don’t know if she’ll still be waiting when—if—the time comes we can be.”
“What’s the holdup?”
Erik drew his brows together in disbelief. “I told you and the others out there about the incident I had. That happened at my girlfriend’s parents’ house, dude.” Cody’s expression remained unaffected. Zero hint of an “aha” moment on the horizon, and Erik felt his blood heating. “I fucking dragged her into the flashback with me. Literally. Then that night I had a nightmare and barely woke up before I attacked her.”
“And?” Finally, understanding dawned in Cody’s eyes. “Ah, shit. She left you.”
“What? No, man, you don’t get it,” Erik ground out through clenched teeth as he shot to his feet and started to pace like a wild animal in a zoo exhibit. “She argued against the breakup, but I was out of my goddamned mind. It’s not safe for us to be together until I get my head straight and I can guarantee I’m not a threat to her.”
“Hold up, man,” Cody said as he held up his hands in a placating gesture. Since the pacing wasn’t doing him any damn good anyway, Erik stopped and faced the now standing man. Cody looked from his hands to the stock-still Erik with a hint of awe. “Cool, I feel like Chris Pratt in Jurassic World. How do you feel about the new call sign Raptor?” Erik narrowed his gaze in fair warning. “Okay, ix-nay on the allsign-cay.”
Erik blew out a heavy breath and scrubbed his hands over his eyes a few times, dropping back into the chair. He was mentally exhausted and physically keyed up. Not a good combination. All he wanted to do was head to Olivia’s and lose himself in her arms. Listen to her laugh at his bad jokes and feed her spoonfuls of ice cream while watching that cheesy superhero show where the main character trained shirtless like it was an Olympic sport.
But instead, he had yet another night alone in his apartment ahead of him. Wasn’t that awesome?
Cody sat down again and leaned forward with his elbows on the arms of the chair. “Look, Erik,” he said, his tone decidedly more serious, “all jokes aside, I know what you’re talking about. I thought the same thing after the crash. You wanna talk about feeling like you’re fucked up? Try waking up with leg pain so excruciating you practically vomit, only to realize that they aren’t even there, and instead of waking up in your tent, you’re in the CSH.”
Cody’s words sliced into Erik like .30-cal AP shells through body armor. CSH, pronounced “cash,” stood for Combat Surgical Hospital, and Erik could only imagine what it would have been like to regain consciousness in one of those. Two of Erik’s men had lost their lives in that battle that went FUBAR faster than he could blink, and Smoke had ended up in the CSH with the burns he’d sustained, but unbelievably, Erik had lucked out in that he’d never been wounded serious enough to be laid up like that.
“Along with the obvious physical struggles, I had the usual psychological stuff, like anxiety, nightmares, all that shit. By the time I got stateside, I’d already made the decision for Jenna that we were over. I wasn’t about to strap her to a less-than-whole man for the rest of her life. I loved her too much for that.”
Hearing those words set Erik on edge. It pissed him off that a man who served his country and suffered from injuries made in the line of duty—a man Erik respected and liked immensely in just the few hours since they’d met—thought of himself as less than, simply because he lost his legs and gained a few legitimate head issues.
“That’s bullshit, Adams. Look at you,” Erik said, gesturing at the kid. “You’re more put together than a lot of civilians I know.”
Cody smiled. “That’s because you’re seeing all of Jenna’s hard work. I never would have come as far as I have—at least not as fast as I have—without her love and support.” Leaning back, he turned the picture around again and gazed at the 2D image of his fiancée with a reverence Erik rarely saw from battle-hardened soldiers. “She wouldn’t leave me, bro. I was a miserable bastard, and when she wouldn’t leave, I did my best to push her away. She just kept showing up at the hospital, helping me with my physical therapy. She told me she’d be marrying me whether I liked it or not, so I might as well quit my bitching.”
“Sounds like you’ve got yourself one hell of a woman.”
“Don’t I know it,” Cody said. “You’ll get to meet her. She’s here all the time, dropping in and acting as an emotional drill sergeant for anyone getting down on themselves. And if you don’t get your head out of your ass, I’ll sic her on you, too.”
“My head’s not in my ass.” That was a lie. Cody had made it plain as day. Erik just wasn’t ready to admit it yet.
“Look, it’s cool, I get it. You need time to process and all that,” the kid said as he stood. “Just don’t take too long, man. Like you said, by the time you figure it out, she might not be there anymore. If she didn’t take off after you pulled her into a game of Call of Duty in her kitchen, my guess is she’s worth holding onto.”
Cody held the door open and they agreed to meet again in a few days, then Erik shook his hand and walked into the hall. Just before turning down the passage that would take him to the lobby, Cody called out to him from his doorway with one last piece of advice. “I know you’re afraid of making things worse for her, but believe me when I tell you, she’s a hell of a lot stronger than you’re giving her credit for.”
Erik gave him a nod of thanks and turned the corner, wondering how a kid he’d just met had managed to figure out his life better than he could. Time to change that.
Chapter Eighteen
“Hey, munchkin, who’s been drinking all my Johnny Walker? Don’t tell me you’ve acquired good taste since the last time I visited.”
Olivia would have laughed at her brother’s jab if the mention of the whiskey didn’t make her think of the man who’d been the one to drink it. Then again, pretty much everything made her think of Erik. He was like a constant companion, riding shotgun in her mind, whether she was awake or asleep.
“God, no, I still abhor all things whiskey,” she said from her place on the couch. “It was a friend.”
After pouring himself two fingers, he brought his glass and joined her in the living room. “Well, make sure your friend buys you a bottle for Christmas if he’s going to keep drinking that one.”
That made her smile as she rolled her eyes at him, then took a healthy sip of her wine. Perhaps with her goofy brother here, her buzz would be a fun one for a change instead of the alcohol just amplifying her broken heart.
It’d been a little over four weeks since Erik insisted they couldn’t be together, and she missed hi
m like crazy. Missed his sarcasm, his teasing, his protectiveness, and his intensity.
Everything about Lieutenant Erik “Wolf” Grady—his appearance, his demeanor, his loyalty, and even his love—vibrated with an intensity that charged her from the inside out. Before meeting him, Olivia had considered her life to be absolutely fine, better than average, perfectly pleasant. Now she knew that those were all ways of saying dull, bland, inadequate, and a whole slew of other synonyms she would list if she had a thesaurus in front of her.
In the beginning, she’d tried talking to him out of the ridiculous notion that he needed to keep his distance until he got better. She called and texted multiple times a day, but after a week of no contact, she resigned herself to letting him go. It was the hardest decision she had ever made.
To make things easier on both of them, she worked from home on the afternoons he had sessions with her uncle. It took two weeks before she stopped angling for information on how Erik was doing, and after three weeks, she managed to fall asleep without crying. Hooray for progress.
“So what’s his name?”
Olivia snapped her attention over to her brother. How long had she been in her own head? “Whose name?”
“The guy who finally got you to move on with your life. I want to know when I can intimidate him—I mean, meet him.”
The image of Robbie—an illustrator for children’s books—trying to intimidate Erik made her laugh. That’d be like Roger Rabbit trying to scare off Thor. Not possible. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. There’s no guy.”
He swirled the ice around in his glass as he arched a blond brow and said, “Come on, I know I’m not a super-smart shrink like you and Uncle Eddie, but give me some credit. Someone’s been enjoying my whiskey, the pictures of you and Brett are gone, and Ben and Jerrys have a big-ass cat tree where their papasan chair used to be.”
Avoiding his scrutinizing gaze, Olivia drank more of her wine and looked out the window at the orange-tinged sky as the sun began to set on the opposite side of the building.
“The only thing I can’t figure out is, if you’ve moved on,” her brother continued, his voice going soft and serious, “why do you look like you’re in mourning all over again?”
Sadness pricked at the back of her throat and she was helpless to stop the hot tears from welling in her eyes. She tried to speak, to brush it off and tell him it wasn’t what he thought, but she couldn’t get the words out. It didn’t matter, though. Spewing lies wouldn’t work when the truth was streaming down her face.
“Oh, munchkin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Come over here.”
Knowing he wouldn’t take no for an answer, Olivia set her wineglass down and scooted to his side of the couch. She curled into his side, taking comfort from him as he wrapped his arms around her in one of his famous big brother hugs. Resting his chin on the top of her head, he told her to “spill it.”
She told him how they met at the liquor store, how they re-met at her office, how he doggedly pursued her, all the way through the night he eventually left her. She told him everything, the story tumbling out like an avalanche of craggy rocks, slicing her open again and again, until she was left raw and bleeding.
“So that’s how I went from denial to bliss to heartache in less than three months,” she said as she sniffled and rubbed her cheeks on his soft T-shirt to soak up the last set of tears she had in her. The well had finally dried up. For now, at least. “The cruel irony is that in the beginning, all I wanted was for him to leave me alone. And now, all I want is for him to never leave me. Guess that’s karma for you.”
“That’s bullshit,” he said, his voice lacking the usual rancor infused in that phrase. “Of everyone I know, Liv, you’re the person least likely to ever have bad karma. You need to cut yourself some slack. Most people in their twenties don’t have to deal with the death of a spouse, and from what it sounds like, you instinctively knew he was someone you could care about. After what you went through, that would be a pretty scary thing.”
“I know, you’re right. I just…wish it didn’t have to end like it did. It kills me to know he’s going through so much right now, and I can’t be there for him. I feel so helpless.”
“Hey, he’s got Uncle Eddie, though, right? At least you know he’s getting the help he needs.”
Straightening, she pulled free of his embrace and offered him a wan smile. “Thank you, Robbie. For listening and letting me blubber all over you.”
“That’s what big brothers are for, munchkin,” he said, rubbing the top of her head playfully.
She scolded him as she smacked his hand away and took her ponytail holder out to redo her now messy hair. He chuckled at her expense on his way into the kitchen to refill his drink while she pulled her hair up and herself together. If she was going to salvage Sibling Movie Night, she needed to switch tracks.
“So what movie do you want to watch? I’m thinking comedy, the dumber the better.” Before he had a chance to offer his suggestions, Olivia’s phone chimed on the counter. “Can you see who that is?”
“It’s a text from Wolf.” She froze mid-pony-pull as her stomach dropped out. “What the hell kind of a name is Wolf?”
“It’s not a name,” she said, finishing her hair in a trance. “It’s a call sign.” And what she’d entered for his contact info as a nostalgic nod to the man she’d first met.
Robbie caught on and crossed the room to hand her the phone. He nodded encouragingly. “See what he wants.”
Taking the phone with shaking hands, she slid the notification over and opened up the message as she held her breath.
You still owe me a third date, gorgeous.
The air in her lungs expelled with a whoosh. Date? What the hell was he smoking? He’d walked out on her, never returned any of her calls, and now he wanted a date? Maybe he felt guilty about the way he ended things and wanted to move forward as friends. Maybe Uncle Eddie had him doing a twelve-step program and he needed to atone to anyone he’d wronged. Hell, knowing her uncle, he may have ordered Erik to make things right with his niece, considering Eddie had been grumbling his unhappiness to Ruth about Olivia not being her “usual sunshiny self.”
When she still hadn’t responded, the ellipses started waving, letting her know he was typing out another message.
One last date. To state my case, remember? That’s all I ask.
How could she forget? She thought back to that morning in the courtyard next to the Pru when he’d asked her to give him the three dates. But now she had a sinking feeling that the case he wanted to make was no longer about them staying together. It was about why they had to be apart.
“You going to answer him soon or wait until you’ve completely gnawed your lower lip off?”
She raised her eyes to Robbie, releasing her abused lip as a mix of embarrassment and nerves washed over her. She hadn’t even realized he’d sat next to her again and read the text over her shoulder. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted.
“Don’t make it so hard, Liv. Do you want to see him?”
“Yes, but…” Olivia sighed. Maybe she was overthinking things. She should just take things as they came. At the very least, being in his company for a few hours had to soothe some of the permanent ache that had taken root deep in her chest. But at the end of the night she’d be back to square one: missing him with a desperation that defied reason.
God, the pain would be fresh, like ripping off a barely healed scab. But it didn’t matter. She didn’t have the strength not to go to him if he wanted to see her.
The true test would be whether she had the strength to walk away if the time came. Because, for as desperately as she wanted to be with Erik, she couldn’t be in a relationship if he wasn’t willing to stay with her whenever he struggled with his PTSD. He could learn to manage it, but it would never truly go away. It’s something he’d have to deal with his entire life, and she loved him too much to be able to survive losing him over and over again.<
br />
Okay. When?
How about now.
She was in the middle of typing “I can’t tonight” when three strong knocks echoed through the small room. Olivia and Robbie looked at each other, one of them with a curious brow arched and the other with eyes as wide as silver dollars.
“Well, that’s my cue,” Robbie said, pushing to his feet and crossing to the kitchen to set his glass in the sink. “I’ll call you tomorrow and you can catch me up. Unless you’re otherwise engaged, then you can fill me in at Mom and Dad’s over Sunday brunch.”
Three more knocks. “Livvie?”
Shit, he heard a man’s voice in her apartment, and the slight edge to Erik’s tone said he didn’t like it.
Olivia followed Robbie, suddenly feeling very anxious about seeing Erik and the whole unknown outcome thing. “You don’t have to leave,” she rushed out. “You can stay in the bedroom until we’re done talking, and then we’ll watch the movie when he’s gone.”
“Livvie.” Robbie stepped in close and lowered his voice. “Do you have reason to be afraid of this guy? Does he have a temper? Because if that’s the case then he can pound all he wants, but he’s not stepping foot inside that door. I might not stand a chance against a former ranger, but that’s what the cops are for.”
“God, no, Robbie,” she said quickly. “Erik would die before he ever hurt me. I’m just…nervous, I guess.”
Her brother gave her a quick hug and kissed her on the forehead. “All you have to do is talk to him, munchkin. Can’t be that hard; you do it for a living. If it makes it any easier, have him lie on the couch and charge him a few hundred bucks.” A trembling laugh escaped despite the horde of butterflies threatening to choke off her airway. “Just breathe, and call me if you need me.”
Olivia nodded then stared at the door in trepidation as Robbie opened it wide. Erik gave the man next to her a hard look, which Robbie returned (bless his big brother, beta heart), but just when she thought she’d have to step between the two men to prevent an ER trip (for the lean artist, not the buff ex-ranger), recognition registered in Erik’s eyes.
Hot for the Fireman Page 25
