Jackson jumped out of the truck even before it stopped completely, rushing straight to where the leak had been reported to be—a hole made by a contractor the evening before. As we staged Engine 1 and Ladder 2 as far from the leak as we deemed safe, Jackson came running back.
“Masks at the ready and secure the perimeter,” he yelled. “No one comes near. I can hear the gas leak.”
My team put their masks on while I dialed the number for the utility company. The gas source had to be cut off immediately.
While my men went from door to door making sure they were empty, I watched a little forlornly from the safety of the fire engine. At moments like this, I wished I could be whole again and be up front, side by side with the others, instead of watching all the action from a distance. I kept my eyes on my friend, Jackson, who with his usual speed and efficiency walked from one place to another with the gas monitors, taking readings. He signaled us that the readings were high and we should stay away.
That’s when I saw it—a shiny, almost sparkling reddish glow that could be nothing but some type of electrical short. The place was going to blow and my friend was at the epicenter of the explosion. I stopped thinking rationally and ran as fast as my prosthetic leg would allow me with only one thought in my head—get him out of there quick.
Jackson didn’t see me coming as I tackled him and tried to push him away from the gas leak and the ominous spark. We didn’t go far. A loud noise pierced my eardrums, and I flew off the ground high enough I could see the top of the white oak tree in the parking lot. My lungs couldn’t take in any air under the pressure of the explosion, and I thought I was going to die right then. I hit the ground at the same time as many other things that had been sent flying in the blast. Jackson fell just a few yards away from me. He wasn’t moving. Desperate to make sure he was okay, I tried to go to him but I still couldn’t breathe.
Just as I was finally able to take a breath—however shallow—something heavy fell on my back, crushing me again. The pain was indescribable. I had very little memory of how I’d felt or even what had happened during the car accident all those years ago. There must have been a lot of pain, but I couldn’t recall any of it. Nothing like this.
Oh my God. I’m going to die.
My ears were ringing from the explosion, but I heard the Mayday, clear as crystal, coming through my helmet’s speaker. “Two men down, two men down.”
The heat suddenly scorching my sides told me the structure was on fire. I wasn’t close enough to get burned, but big flaming chunks of the building were falling all around me. I was screwed if one of them fell on me. I tried to crawl to Jackson again, but my legs weren’t cooperating and neither were my burning lungs. Am I on fire?
“Don’t move, Gavin.” The order came from nearby, muffled by a face piece. “Don’t budge.”
I had no intention of moving by then. Every little attempt at motion made my body convulse in excruciating pain. I was quickly fading out from the lack of oxygen. I was going to die, and I’d never had the chance to apologize for whatever it was I had done to my Ana. I’d never have the chance to tell her how much I loved her.
“Incoming!” I heard it before I felt it. A sudden, fierce explosion against the back of my head. I had a strange moment of clarity where the world came back into clear focus before total and utter darkness enveloped and took me under.
***
Ana
The whiteness of the screen goaded me. “Come on, write something on me. I dare you.” I couldn’t. I had been staring at the laptop screen for over an hour and hadn’t managed a single word. My muse had left me. My brain cells had died and left nothing but emptiness in their place.
I rubbed my forehead in despair. I had a deadline coming up and I wasn’t even halfway done with this story. “I hate this!” The truth was, I couldn’t take my mind off Gavin. If my rational side said there was no way a relationship with a drunk driver would ever work, my heart kept pulling me the other way. I loved the guy. Really, truly, and completely. I hated myself for it, but a heart cannot be denied.
The phone rang and I stretched across the table to get it. The caller ID told me it was an unknown local number. Curious—and bored—I picked up.
“Ms. Mathews?” The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. “This is Alan from the firehouse.”
Was Gavin using his friends to reach me? “I don’t want to talk to Gavin. Tell him—”
He interrupted me. “No, he didn’t ask me to call you. I just thought you’d want to know.”
“Know what?” My curiosity was piqued.
“There’s been an accident.” My heart plummeted. Memories of another call a few years ago came flooding back to me. Those were the same words I heard when they first called about my sister. “Gavin is in the hospital.”
I wasn’t sure what happened next. I remembered running out my door and getting into a taxi—had I called it? The drive to the hospital was a blur of fear and anger burning in my heart at the same time. Fear of losing the man I loved, and anger for what he had done. How could you love someone while hating what he was?
Several men from Gavin’s unit were gathered in the hospital ER lobby, most still in their pants and tunics, soot staining their faces. A couple of them had bleeding scratches, and they all had wild stares, as if they had seen something they’d rather forget. I recognized Alan and Justin milling around, twisting their hands and staring at the floor. In a semidaze, I sped toward them, a sob caught in my throat.
“What happened? Is he—?” I couldn’t finish the thought, realizing I couldn’t even imagine my fireman dead. “How is he?” I swallowed my tears for fear of losing control and drowning in my own grief.
Alan looked up first, a flash of recognition crossing his eyes. “Ms. Mathews, you’re here.” Of course, I am here. Where else would I be? Oh, right, I hadn’t spoken to Gavin in a while. “Gavin was caught in a gas explosion with Jackson.” For the first time, I noticed Jackson’s absence from the room.
Alan held my arm just below my elbow and led me to a seat nearby. “How? What the hell happened? Is he alive?”
“They’re both hurt but alive.” I exhaled, relief softening my muscles, which had been wound tighter than a two-dollar watch. “Thanks to Gavin.”
My breath caught. “What do you mean?” Had Gavin caused this incident as well?
Alan sat next to me. “If it weren’t for him getting Jackson away from the gas leak at the right moment, Jacks would have been dead.”
My lips stretched into a smile. That was the Gavin I knew and loved. Not the drunkard who stupidly drove a car and his friend into a tree. “He saved Jackson?” My voice shrank with the emotion that filled my heart.
The young man nodded. “He sure did. At great risk to himself.” My eyebrows rose in question. “He could have died along with Jacks.”
Enough talk. I needed to see him for myself. Make sure he was indeed alive and reasonably safe and sound. “When can I see him?”
Justin approached, exhaustion and worry visible in the folds under his eyes. “The doctors are still removing shrapnel from him. He also had a nasty encounter with a piece of concrete. He was unconscious when we got him to the hospital.”
Determined to see him, I marched to the check-in counter. “Excuse me, my boyfriend is one of the firemen who got hurt.” Surprised I had called Gavin my boyfriend, I blinked a few times. “Can I see him?”
“He’s in treatment,” the receptionist said. “We’ll let you in as soon as he’s done.”
Reluctantly I sat down next to Alan, who still seemed a little dazed. He was very young, and I suddenly wondered if this was his first time on a call that led to injury. My maternal instincts—which I didn’t know I had—kicked in and I wrapped my hand around his shoulder, pulling him to me in what I hoped was a comforting gesture. He yielded to my gentle pull and we sat together, deriving some solace from each other’s heat.
I may have dozed off, or maybe I just went to my “happy pla
ce.” When I finally heard my name called, I jumped to my feet, almost toppling poor Alan—still leaning on me—to the floor.
The nurse took me through a maze of hospital corridors and into a small room in the ICU where my beloved fireman was stretched on a bed, half-covered by white blankets and with wires connected to several parts of his body. What have you done to yourself, Gavin? I entered the room quietly, tiptoeing to his bedside.
“He’s still unconscious.” I had forgotten the nurse behind me and I jerked in surprise. “He took a nasty hit to the head. We gave him some sedatives for the pain. There was a lot of shrapnel in him, and some minor burns.”
I sighed, my chest still constricted in fear. “But he’ll be all right—”
The nurse nodded. “Yes, he will be perfectly okay. He just needs to rest, get lots of fluids, and allow his body to heal.” A wide smile stretched her lips. “This one is a tough cookie. I still remember him from when he lost his leg.”
My stomach churned and somersaulted. I didn’t want to hear about his accident right now. I wanted to focus on my love for him, not the reasons why we could never be together. At least until he was well and I could hate him again. Except I could never hate him, not completely.
“You can stay here until he wakes up if you like. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”
After the nurse left the room, the silence surrounded me, interrupted regularly by the beeps of the heart monitor. I sat and watched my man, looking vulnerable and beautiful, his face covered in bloody cuts, a bandage around his head and one of his arms. His deliciously sexy lips sported an ugly cut and I yearned to soothe it with my kisses. What a fool I was. Head over heels in love with a man I could never, ever be with. The knowledge he had killed someone because of the same recklessness and disregard for others that had taken my young sister away from me would always be a wall between us. Us was not to be.
***
Gavin
Stupid beeping. How can anyone sleep with that racket?
I could see faint light through the slits of my eyes, and it took me a while to realize where I was. What had they given me? I felt as if I’d had way too much to drink the night before. I tried to open my eyes, but the eyelids were heavy as lead, and I belatedly realized the bump on my head was not going to make it easy to move either.
“Fuck!” Sad that my first word after this ordeal was a profanity, but I thought the pain in the back of my head and the fact that I could have died justified it well enough.
I felt, rather than saw, movement at the side of my bed, and a soft touch on my shoulder. An angel? I managed to crack an eye open and saw her. Better than any angel—my Ana was standing right next to me.
“Careful. Don’t move too much, Gavin.” Aw, she was concerned about my well-being. Maybe there was hope for us after all. “You just went through a lot.” Her voice caught a little and I immediately wanted to hug and comfort her.
“I’m okay. Just sore.” Well, maybe a little more than just sore. My arm hurt like hell and my head was pounding. I tried to open my eyes again with moderate success. I could see her clearly now, her hand still gingerly touching my shoulder as if afraid she would hurt me. My beautiful Ana. My heart melted a little. “Are you all right? Haven’t heard from you in a while.” I had to ask.
“I’m fine.” She didn’t want to talk about it; that much was obvious as her arm stiffened and her eyes dropped. “You could have died, you know.”
“It’s my job. I may not have a lot of chances to be in the thick of things with my disability and all, but it’s still in my job description.” I hoped she couldn’t hear the bitterness in my voice. “Besides, it was my best friend out there. I was the closest to him at the time—shit! How is he? Did he make it?”
In my sudden panic, I moved too quickly and a sharp pain pierced through my skull. I dropped my head back on the pillow and closed my eyes. Shit, shit, shit.
Ana pressed me gently against the bed, afraid I was going to try and sit up again. “He’s fine. You saved his life. He suffered some minor burns and scratches. In fact, he’s in better shape than you.” Her voice trembled. “You’re the hero—this time.”
“I’m no hero,” I protested. Then I realized what she had said. “What do you mean, this time?”
She pulled up a chair and sat at my bedside, leaving an emptiness on my shoulder. “Never mind. The important thing is that both you and Jackson are okay.”
Silence fell. What a strange thing for her to say. I wanted to inquire further, but I was so happy she was there I didn’t want to taint the moment with a potential argument.
“Thank you.”
I love you.
“For what?” she asked.
Do you love me too?
“For coming. For being here when I woke up.” My hand searched for hers, but to no avail. She was keeping her hands selfishly on her lap, away from mine. “I can’t tell you how happy I was to see your face when I opened my eyes. I miss you.”
Tell her already.
“Alan called me. I was worried.” Her eyes avoided mine. What was going on?
“Are you mad at me?” There, it was out. “I mean, you haven’t answered my phone calls or come around—obviously, there is something going on. What is it? What have I done?”
She moved as if to stand up. Risking another stabbing pain, I reached out and stopped her.
“I should go, Gavin. I have a deadline.” Feeble excuses to cover up whatever it was bothering her. Why wouldn’t she just tell me? I was clueless. How could I defend myself when I didn’t know what I was being accused of?
“No, please stay. Please.” My head was about to explode, but that was nothing compared to the gathering pain in my heart. I couldn’t lose her. “Ana, I don’t know why you’re mad at me, but I’m sure we can talk it over. It can’t be so bad that we can’t at least try to solve it. Please, Ana, I’m begging you.”
“I can’t talk about it.” Not helping. “Maybe someday. I’ll stay for now and keep you company.” She sat back on the chair and ventured a glance at me. Her eyes were puffy and rimmed in red. I wasn’t sure whether to be happy she was concerned about me enough to cry, or worried that those were tears of anger.
A couple of the guys picked that moment to come in the room. “Hey, here’s the hero, looking no worse for the wear.” They were still wearing their uniforms. They hadn’t left the hospital yet. “How are you feeling, man?”
They pulled a couple chairs over and retold the story of my heroic rescue over and over again, each time adding details I had no recollection of. By the time they were finished, I had been elevated to the status of a saint. I laughed at their lack of factual memory, and they assured me they remembered it all too well.
“Fuck, dude. Jackson and you flew up like two rockets on the Fourth of July. It’s a miracle you guys didn’t break any bones,” one of them said with a boisterous chuckle.
“Or die, for that matter,” the other one added unhelpfully. I glanced at Ana, whose face had gone from pale to transparent as the story rolled off my men’s embellishing tongues. I longed to take her in my arms and kiss her until she relaxed against me.
“Nobody died and we weren’t even in any real danger.” I threw a pointed glance at them, hoping they would take the hint that I didn’t want to worry Ana any more than she was already.
“Stop being so fucking humble, man. That explosion could have killed you both. Easily.” My telepathic gifts were not working. I rolled my eyes, giving up on trying to curb their enthusiasm about events.
For the next hour or so, there was a constant flow of people coming in and out through my room door, each time with some version of the same story. I watched Ana as she became quieter and paler with each account, but I couldn’t do anything about it.
When the last person finally left, Ana stood up as well. “I have to go. You need your rest.”
This time I was able to reach out for her hand and hold it. “No, wait. There is something I need to tell you.�
��
“You can tell me another time.” She pulled her hand away from mine, but I held it firmly.
“Please, sit for a second.” I must have sounded desperate, because she did, her hand still inside mine and a noticeable quiver on her lips.
“What’s so urgent that it can’t wait until tomorrow?”
I can’t be sure you’ll be back.
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Still holding her hand, I raised my eyes to hers and licked my lips. This was a first for me and I wanted to be sure I said it the right way.
When nothing came out of my mouth, she fidgeted in her seat, her hand trembling. “Well? What is it, Gavin?”
In the end, I figured simplicity was probably the way to go. “I love you, Ana Mathews.”
I was not sure what to expect, but the frightened frown on Ana’s face was not it.
Truth and Misunderstandings
Ana
“I don’t get it.” Delta stabbed the cupcake with gusto. “He tells you he loves you and you—let me get this straight—you walk away? Why?” Another stab, and the once beautifully decorated cake looked like the victim of a mudslide, the chocolate icing running down the cracks of the demolished confection. “You’re so obviously in love with this guy. I don’t get you.”
My respect for everything beautiful made me cringe at the sight of her cupcake abuse. “I do love him. A lot.” So much, my heart couldn’t contain it all and it threatened to spill over. “But I’m also a realist, and I know that the fact he was a drunk driver who killed someone will be a nasty monster of a thing between the two of us. It will emerge from the background every time we have a fight or I need something to blame him for. It wouldn’t work.”
With a mouth full of chocolate cake, Delta glanced at me and chewed silently for a moment. “You’re an idiot.”
I flinched. As used as I was to my friend’s bluntness, I didn’t expect that kind of reaction from her. “Why do you say that? I’m just preventing a lot of heartache for both me and Gavin.”
Her Real Man (Rescue Me Collection Book 0) Page 10
