Off Duty (Off #7)

by Sawyer Bennett

  “Oh my God,” my mother breathes into the phone, pure joy in her voice. “That’s wonderful. I’m so happy you’re coming back home. Wait a minute… let me put your father on the phone, and he can—”

  “No,” I say quickly. “No, I don’t want to talk to him. If you could just pass it along to him and ask if he can check around.”

  “But Holly,” she says admonishingly, “he’s your father. He’ll be thrilled, and this could be a step toward repairing your relationship with him.”

  “I don’t want to repair my relationship with him,” I say sternly. “He ruined it by what he did.”

  “Honey… that was so long ago,” she chides.

  “And yet, it still affects me,” I tell her. “What he did was wrong on so many levels, and never once has he ever apologized. And you know why, Mom? Because he’s not sorry. Because he’s a mean-spirited bully and bigot, and that is not the man I used to look up to.”

  My mom actually gasps into the phone, but I work up a full head of steam. “He ruined it, Mom. This is on him, not me. He’s not the type of man I want in my life, and when I get married and have kids one day, he’s not the type of man I want my children looking up to.”

  “Holly,” my mom growls into the phone. “That’s enough.”

  I take a deep breath and let it out, my anger spent quickly. I pull myself together… attempt to be mature. In a gentler voice, I say, “I’m sorry. Not for the things I said, but that it upsets you. I didn’t mean to do that. But that’s the way I feel, and it won’t change.”

  My mom is silent for a moment, and then she says softly, “You might find… if you just gave him a chance… that your father has done some changing. Maybe he has regrets over what happened.”

  I scoff. “I’ve not seen that.”

  “Because you never give him a chance. You won’t talk to him.”

  Guilt courses through me, for the first time since I cut ties. I have always been so adamantly proud of the stance I’ve taken, but is it possible… just possible… that I’ve erected such a barrier around me that I’ve left no room for an opening by which my father could talk to me about this?

  The thought makes me a little sick to my stomach. Sick over the thought of actually discussing such an unpleasant subject with him, and sick over the fact that maybe I’ve denied him an opportunity to be forgiven.

  Shaking my head, I buck up my resolve and say, “Look… Mom. Just forget that I called. Don’t ask Dad to step in and ask around for me. I’ll figure something out on my own. I need to go.”

  “Holly… no, wait. He’d be glad to do it. Forget the other things I’ve said. Let him do this for you—”

  “I’m sorry,” I cut in on her. “I really need to go. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  I can hear the fading voice of my mom calling my name again as I pull the phone away from my ear and disconnect the call.

  For some reason, tears well up in my eyes. Maybe it’s because I’m now thinking about a future with Tim, and with that comes thoughts of a family, and what family really means.

  All of my bitter feelings over the years have been rooted in anger toward my father, over what he did to Tim and me. But now, for the first time, I’m feeling melancholy over the fact that I not only lost Tim, but I really also lost my family as well.

  Chapter 11

  Tim

  Fuck, I’m exhausted. We just got back from a 2nd Alarm Assignment in a high-rise necessitating five engine companies, two ladder companies, two battalion chiefs, a rescue battalion chief, a safety battalion chief, and tactical support units.

  In other words, it was a major fucking mess.

  The good news is that we got the fire contained pretty quickly, although it took the better part of half a day to get all the hot spots fully extinguished. The bad news is that I am so tired as I enter the last day of my three-day shift that I can’t even muster up the strength to call Holly to check in.

  Instead, I pull out my phone and send her a quick text. Just got back from major fire. Going to get shower and some shut eye. Will call later.

  I set my phone on my rack while I sit down to take my boots off. She usually responds back pretty quickly when she’s not working, and I know she’s off today. We had briefly talked yesterday afternoon when she got a small break at work. The conversation hadn’t gone the way I wanted it to, mainly because I was sitting in the break room of the station house surrounded by four other guys that were watching a baseball game on TV. What I really wanted to do was tell her how much I missed her.

  Her smile.

  Her laugh.

  Her green eyes.

  Fucking that gorgeous body.

  But that’s so not appropriate in a room full of firemen.

  Instead, I let her update me on her job hunt, which had proven to be futile so far. This had been the subject of many of our conversations, and Holly was getting more dejected by the lack of prospects with every phone call we had together. I tried to buck up her spirits, but that was hard because I was fucking dejected right along with her.

  But when we talked yesterday, while she still had no good news, she didn’t seem quite as bummed. Instead, she seemed a little chipper, teasing me about wanting to give me some dirty phone sex talk but she knew couldn’t since I was at the firehouse. I grinned into the phone, my eyes cutting around the room at the other guys seemingly interested in the TV, but also knowing they kept one ear on my conversation. I had been quite vocal upon my return from vacation about the amazing woman in my life, and they were always razzing me about her.

  Sadly, our call yesterday was cut short by the station speakers crackling to life and alerting us to another fire in progress. I was only able to give her a quick, “I miss you. Talk later,” and then I was running toward the front bay to get suited up.

  Holly doesn’t text me back, which has me frowning slightly. The pure exhaustion I was feeling a minute ago is replaced now by an even more desperate need to hear her voice. I flip to my favorites and tap on her name, deciding that I did have time for a quick conversation.

  The phone rings four times before going to her voice mail.

  Well, fuck.

  I set the phone down on the small, square wooden table beside my rack and lay back on the mattress. Shower forgotten, I put my hands behind my head and stare at the ceiling, listening to the soft snores of a few of the guys who already crashed.

  I think longingly about the day that Holly will be here, and we can finally start our life together.

  “Hey Davis,” I hear from the doorway to our sleeping quarters.

  Lifting my head up, I see Butch Heywood, one of my teammates, standing there. “What’s up?”

  “You got a visitor out front,” he says and starts to turn away.

  “Who is it?” I ask, without any real actual interest, but suspecting it might be this woman, Tashia, I had gone out with on and off over the past year. It wasn’t serious, and we would go weeks without seeing each other, but she would sometimes drop by if she was in the area to check up on me. I haven’t seen her in probably over a month, and of course, there’s no real commitment there, so it’s not like I ever thought to call her and tell her that we couldn’t see each other anymore.

  “No clue,” he says as he turns back briefly. “Flynn caught me on my way back to the head and told me to tell you.”

  “Thanks, man,” I say and sit up, swinging my legs over the edge of my rack. I stick my feet back in my boots and swiftly lace them.

  As I walk toward the front bay, I start mentally constructing what I need to tell Tashia. She won’t be upset or put out, but I still want to be nice and gentle about it.

  I push through the swinging door that leads into the bay where we hold the three engines that belong to our company. A quick sweep of the area and I don’t see anyone, but I hear muffled voices coming from the far side of the bay behind one of the trucks.

  Walking that way, I hear Flynn’s voice become clearer. “Tim’s a stud. Oh, the things I cou
ld tell you about him,” he says with a laugh, and I groan internally.

  I do not need him building me up any further to Tashia, especially when I’m getting ready to cut things off. And why the fuck would he do that? He knows how I feel about Holly. Other than Denise, Flynn is the only one that knows what truly went down between us and the entirety of our history. I filled him in on it when I got back from vacation over beer and wings one night after we got off shift.

  Rounding the front of the engine, I say before I even see Flynn and Tashia, “Now, quit filling her head with those lies.”

  I see Flynn first, his back to me, blocking my line of sight to Tashia. His head turns toward me, and he gives me an evil grin. I glare at him.

  Flynn steps to the side, and I turn my face toward Tashia.

  Except, it’s not Tashia.

  It’s Holly, and my heart almost bursts out of my chest from the sudden explosion of joy with in me.

  “Hey baby,” she says softly with a smile.

  Two long steps are all I need before my hands are on her face and I’ve got her mouth crushed to mine. I kissed her ravenously… starved for her touch and her taste.

  “Geez… get a room,” Flynn says, but then I hear his footsteps receding away from us.

  Holly’s hands come up to my wrists, giving them a slight squeeze before she pulls her lips away from mine. I don’t let her withdraw too much though, pinning her with my eyes.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Surprise,” she says with a grin.

  Too fucking much.

  I pull her back to me and kiss her again, this time turning her and backing her right into the side of the engine. Holly purrs into my mouth, and lust shoots through me.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  I pull away from her quickly, because I cannot be going there with my mind or my cock. I’m on duty, a fact that makes me hate my job right this very minute.

  Giving her a soft kiss on her nose, I release her face and take her hands. “Baby… what in the hell are you doing here? And why the hell didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

  Her grin gets bigger. “It would sort of defeat the purpose of a surprise, right?”

  Deep, hot kissing is out but hugging isn’t. My arms shoot around her waist, and I pull her into me hard. Putting my face in her neck, I breathe out, “God, I love you.”

  Holly’s body jerks in surprise but immediately melts into me further. Her arms grip me tighter… her voice is thick with emotion. “I love you, too.”

  It’s the first time we’ve said those exact words since we were eighteen years old, and I realize the power of them is magnified immensely just by sheer virtue of everything we’ve been through to get us to this point in our lives.

  I don’t feel a need, though, to make a big deal out of those words. They simply are the truth. Something we’ve both known in our hearts.

  Instead, I pull back from her and ask her one more time. “What are you doing here? And how long can you stay?”

  “How about forever?” she asks, her eyes shining bright.

  “What?” I ask carefully, my breath caught in my chest. Afraid to hope.

  “I just had a job interview at St. Joseph’s on Long Island that went amazingly well. So amazing, in fact, that they offered it to me. I start in three weeks.”

  My knees almost buckle from the complete euphoria coursing through me. “Please tell me you’re not kidding.”

  “I’m not kidding,” she says as she leans back into me.

  “But how? How did this happen so fast? We just talked yesterday, and you didn’t say a word.”

  She’s quiet… her hands rubbing my lower back. I can sense hesitation in her, so I prompt her, “Holly?”

  “My father helped me,” she says quietly.

  I pull back from her, taking her by her elbows and leaning back to look at her. “What?”

  “He pulled some strings. Got me the interview. I just found out about it two days ago. I didn’t tell you yesterday because I wanted to surprise you with a visit, regardless of how the interview went.”

  “Your father helped you,” I murmur in wonder. Clearing my throat, I ask, “He just helped you out of the blue?”

  “No,” she says with a wince. “I called my mom and asked her if he would, and apparently, he did. I haven’t talked to him, but she called me with the details and told me they wanted to meet with me right away. I hopped a plane here this morning and just finished the interview about an hour ago. They offered me the job on the spot.”

  Shaking my head, my lips curve upward. “This is just unbelievable.”

  “I know,” she says with an excited grin. “Three weeks and we can be together again.”

  “We’ll need to move out to Long Island. It will be easier on you to be closer to the hospital. I can commute into Brooklyn.”

  “You want to move in together?” she whispers, her eyes wide.

  “Yeah, don’t you?”

  “Well… yeah, but—”

  “Sam thinks it’s a good idea, and so do I,” I tell her quickly.

  “Sam thinks it’s a good idea?” she asks with a grin.

  “Yup, and I’m expecting he’s going to demand we get a house with a fenced-in yard so he can have a dog.”

  Holly laughs, wraps her arms around me, and pulls me back down for a kiss. When she releases my lips, she says, “I think we should get the kid a dog for sure.”

  I kiss her again… swiftly, because I hear the swinging door bang open and the voices of a few of the guys coming through.

  Sobering a bit, I ask her hesitantly, “Are you going to talk to your dad?”

  “Yeah,” she says with no hesitation. “It needs to be done. I need to thank him at least, and I don’t know… maybe talk to him.”

  “Want to go over there tomorrow when I get off duty?”

  She shakes her head. “No, I only have one more day here and I don’t want to spend it with anyone other than you. But I do have an idea of how I want this to go down.”

  I look at her in question, but she doesn’t give me anything else. Instead, she steps back into my arms and hugs me with a sigh of contentment.

  My life just got very fucking good.

  Epilogue

  The Grande Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel is overflowing with people, flowers, and champagne. It’s an auspicious occasion, where New York’s medical finest are lauded for their groundbreaking work.

  My father, of course, was the main honoree, being the recipient of the Franklin R. Murray award, which is voted on by his peers. I had to look it up, not being overly familiar with how things are done in New York anymore, but I saw on the website that the award goes to a physician who best uses his or her talents and skills to improve the lives of his or her patients through actual practice, teaching, and charitable works.

  The award is really quite impressive and when my father took the stage to accept it, I found myself clapping with actual respect for him. Tim, decked out in the most gorgeous tuxedo I’ve ever seen, was clapping right alongside me.

  We make our way through the throng of people. Now that dinner has been concluded, the band is playing and people are taking to the dance floor. My father knows I’m here, as I got word through my mother that I would attend. What he doesn’t know is that Tim will be with me.

  I’m not sure if I’m doing this for the shock factor, or if… once again… I just want to rip the Band-Aid off.

  I moved to New York this past weekend. Tim and I are still looking for a house we can buy together, but for now, I’m staying in his small apartment. I start work next week, and I’m terribly excited because I’ll be doing work on the pediatric trauma services.

  I haven’t seen my mother or father yet, and it’s been difficult to put off their invitations to get together. But I didn’t want to succumb to the possibility of something more with them until I could show them just what they’d be getting if they wanted me back in their lives.

  I needed to show them that
Tim is a part of my life.

  The biggest part of my life, actually.

  Spotting my father and mother ahead, Tim takes the hand he had on my waist and laces his fingers with mine. With a reassuring squeeze, we make our way toward them and the group of doctors they’re talking to.

  As we approach, my mom spots us first, and she tugs gently on the coat of my dad’s tux. He looks down at her, and she nods our way. His head swivels and he looks at me, a warm smile curving his face. His eyes flick to Tim, causing me to step in just a little closer to him in solidarity, and oddly… the smile on my father’s face doesn’t dim in the slightest.

  His head inclines toward the other men in his group, and I can tell he’s excusing himself from their presence. Then he and my mom are walking toward us.

  “Easy, baby,” Tim breathes out beside me. He can feel the tension in the grip of my hand.

  My father reaches us, beaming down at me. My mom gives Tim a warm smile, and then gives me an equally bright beam. “You made it.”

  “I made it,” I agree, and then immediately rip the Band-Aid off. “Mom… Dad… you remember Tim Davis, right?”

  Both of my parents turn to Tim, and then in a move so astounding that my jaw hits the floor, my father sticks his hand out to Tim. “Tim… I’ve been waiting ten years to see you again. Didn’t think it would be tonight, but I’m glad it is.”

  Tim politely takes my father’s hand and shakes it. I’m still completely stunned by this turn of events, but I hear Tim say in his deep voice. “Congratulations on your award, Dr. Reynolds.”

  My father turns to me, leans over, and kisses my cheek. ‘Think you have a moment you can spare for me? I really need to talk to you, but it would be better in private.”

  I nod, not trusting my words. My father turns away, but then says, “Tim… do you mind coming too? You need to hear this as well.”

  Tim looks at me with eyebrows raised and I shrug my shoulders, but we both follow along behind my father. My mother, oddly, stays behind.

  We walk out of the ballroom, Tim and I holding hands. We silently follow my father through the hotel and right out onto 5th Avenue. I’m surprised that his definition of private is a busy New York City street.