“True. But after my shift ends, I usually sleep a few hours, if I’m not called out on a SAR mission.”
Her eyes opened a little wider. “You do search and rescue as well?”
“Yeah.”
She scratched that info onto her notepad and met his gaze again. “It’s not uncommon for first responders to have a hard time getting their brains to shut down, much less to achieve a restful sleep, especially those who remain on call and engaged with other jobs, their families, or stressful activities. What have you tried so far to help you sleep better?”
Tried? “I can’t take sleeping pills, so I just have a few drinks to help.” Okay, a fifth of bourbon a night was more than a few drinks, but he was ashamed that he’d been hitting the bottle as hard as he had, especially after Mama said she could smell it on him.
“Is that working for you?”
He shrugged. “Not so much. I gave up on bourbon Friday and went back to beer.” Of course, that had more to do with his family watching his every move than his not wanting something stronger.
“Any better?”
“Not with helping me sleep”—or at keeping the nightmares at bay—“but I function better during the day.”
“Hmm, interesting. But as a trained EMT, you know alcohol is a depressant. That in the long run, it will do more harm than good.”
Tony glanced away, knowing full well what she said was true. Maybe that’s one reason he couldn’t open that new bottle, not to mention that his family was on to what he was doing to himself. He met her gaze again. “It helped at first.”
“But not lately?”
After a pause, he shook his head. What else could he do, though? “I can’t take sleep meds,” he repeated, “not even over-the-counter ones. And I don’t want to use medical marijuana, even if it is legal here.” As if he needed to expose his lungs to even more carcinogens and smoke than he already got on the job.
“Don’t worry. There are lots of options short of medication and drugs. I’m all for the more natural approaches. Have you tried having a regular workout routine?”
“Working out is already part of my evening regimen at the station.” Not that he’d felt like doing it lately. “I suppose I could add workouts on the nights I’m off duty too.”
“Excellent idea.” It wasn’t as though he’d come up with it by himself; she’d steered him in that direction. “Studies show exercise is most beneficial when completed at least four hours before bedtime, though. That, along with cutting out caffeine, alcohol, and nicotine, helps a lot of people sleep more restfully.”
Tony nodded in understanding. He’d learned all that crap in college. “I don’t usually drink coffee after my two cups in the morning.”
“Good. Now perhaps you could find a workout buddy. Some find that motivates them to stay on track. Is there anyone you can work out with, even someone on other shifts at the station?”
“I used to hang out there all the time.” Which is how I wound up on the swift-water rescue gone bad.
When he didn’t go on, she continued to wait for a commitment from him, but he didn’t know who he’d ask yet. “How many times a week do you think you could fit in a regular workout?”
“I don’t know. Maybe once or twice.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Would that only be when you’re on duty?” He used to stop by the station to use the equipment five times a week but had cut back on that after the incident. No way was he going near the station any more than necessary.
“I suppose I could run a couple other nights each week.”
“Good plan. Might take a few weeks to make a routine out of it, but see if it helps improve your sleep. If not, we can talk about other options in future sessions.”
Tony wondered what she’d suggested Rafe do to eliminate his nightmares. Of course, Tony hadn’t exactly come out and admitted that’s what was causing his lack of sleep.
“Okay, I’ll give it a try.”
“Great. Now, after your workout, what will your routine be leading up to bedtime?”
“At the station, I try to go to bed by ten or eleven, because I never know how many calls we’ll have overnight, but that’s hit or miss.” Mostly miss after he’d become terrified of having a nightmare at the station and having someone hear him scream out. Now he fought sleep more than embraced it.
“How about at home?”
“I watch sports, have a drink or two, and when I can’t keep my eyes open, I go to bed.” Or pass out on the couch.
She asked some more questions about his sleeping quarters at the station and at home—commending him for not having a television in either bedroom—and suggested he consciously shut the TV off at a set time and establish a regular bedtime, at least while at home. She also thought he might try a white noise machine at home to help muffle distracting noises and to establish a bedtime ritual.
“The bedroom should be exclusively for sleeping and for sex.” Her blunt words brought thoughts of Carmella in the throes of an orgasm flitting across his mind’s eye. “If you can’t fall asleep within twenty minutes of lying down, get up and do something outside the bedroom until you are sleepy, then try again.”
He chuckled at the picture that suggestion painted.
“Care to share?”
“Just imagining myself roaming the firehouse at all hours of the night.”
She smiled. “Well, it applies for home as well.”
He’d never really considered his apartment a home. Just a place to hang out when he wasn’t working or playing. Mama’s house would always be home.
She then gave him some deep breathing exercises to practice before bedtime and something called progressive muscle relaxation to do as part of his new routine.
“Would you like to come back again this week so we can talk some more?”
Their fifty minutes was up already? She hadn’t probed him about why he couldn’t sleep or asked for all the gory details about what had caused his insomnia. In fact, the session hadn’t been anything like he’d expected. He wasn’t sure her suggestions would help, but Tony was ready to give them a try anyway. He needed some sleep!
“I’m on duty Wednesday.” Between his schedule and hers, maybe he wouldn’t have to come back in for a while.
“How about Thursday? Same time?”
“Friday might be better. Would give me a few nights to implement the things we talked about. If you can work me in.”
“Absolutely. I always keep spots open for new clients, because I initially like meeting at least two or three times a week to help work through the issues giving the most difficulty.”
Lisa opened a planner and wrote in the date then recorded the information on a card she handed it to him. “My cell number is on the back. Call me if you need someone to talk to. If I can’t answer right away, I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
He intended to stick to talking only during their appointment times but put the card in the pocket of his jeans anyway. “Thanks, Lisa.” He held out his hand and shook hers before he rejoined Angelina in the waiting room.
“Finished already?” The worry lines on her forehead smoothed out when he nodded and smiled at her.
“You look more relaxed, Tony,” Angelina said as they left the office.
Strangely enough, he felt lighter, if that made sense, even though all they’d done was talk about his sleep and workout routines. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Does that mean you’ll be coming back to see her?”
“Probably.” It had been nothing like he’d expected. “I made another appointment for later this week.”
“I’m happy to come with you, Tony. You’ve been there for me so many times.” She squeezed his hand in support.
“I appreciate that, Baby, but you have a lot going on. I won’t mess this up. I’m fine coming on my own.”
“Well, I’m a phone call away if you change your mind.”
He needed to get this right and try something different than what he’d been doing up
to now.
“You wouldn’t happen to have some more of that ravioli, would you? I didn’t really have an appetite for them Friday.”
“Always!” She tucked her hand around his elbow, and they crossed the street to where he’d parked the truck.
Chapter Thirteen
Tony walked into his apartment that evening stuffed from eating too much and exhausted from the day, but feeling as though a hundred pounds had been lifted off him. When he automatically reached for a beer in the fridge, he paused and remembered what Lisa had said about cooling it with alcohol and stimulants before bedtime if he ever wanted to have another good night’s sleep.
I need sleep more than booze!
But was he ready to face whatever demons lurked in the recesses of his mind waiting to pounce whenever he let down his guard to sleep? Aw hell. This was day one of therapy. He’d promised Lisa he’d give her other advice a try.
Maybe he should have told the woman why he couldn’t sleep—or why he chose not to try. Rafe had said she handled his shit without flinching, crying, or being repulsed. Pouring himself a glass of OJ, he carried it to the living room and turned on the television. He still had at least five hours before he’d go to bed. He eyed the barbells in the corner of the room but didn’t think lifting weights would tire him out enough. Maybe he should go for a run.
Deciding to forgo the juice, he put on his running gear and left the apartment again. The pink sky he’d seen twenty minutes ago had already turned purplish gray. He wasn’t sure where he wanted to run yet but headed in the direction of town. City streets would be lit better than the rural roads outside of Aspen Corners. He didn’t have a death wish, after all.
Not that he hadn’t heard about guys in fire departments choosing that option when faced with memories of the atrocities they’d witnessed on the job. He refused to become one of those statistics.
His cell phone buzzed about thirty minutes into the run just as he was breaking a sweat. Not ready to call it quits yet, he ignored it and kept jogging until he found himself halfway across the bridge over the Middle Fork River. Coming to an abrupt stop, he glanced down at the churning waters below, only his mind saw them from that Sunday upriver. He tried not to allow glimpses of pink or orange to derail him, but that was all he saw.
Save my baby!
The scream split the air and the spellbinding waters taunted him to jump in and save them until Tony finally broke free of its lure and forced himself to turn around and alter his direction back to the apartment to avoid having to cross the river again later. Once off the bridge, though, he collapsed onto a park bench, breathing heavily. Maybe going for a run hadn’t been the best thing to do after all.
Needing a distraction and remembering the earlier phone call, he pulled his phone out of his pocket.
Carmella.
Or Carm, as she preferred to be called. She’d left a voicemail. The ridiculous way his chest pounded confused him. Maybe it was from his run. Thankfully, he hadn’t answered the call when it came in. His nerves were too raw to talk with anyone, especially her, but he wanted to hear her voice, so he pushed play.
“Hi, Tony. I hope you’re doing well. Just wanted to let you know that I’ve come up with a couple of fun games we could play at Angelina’s birthday party. So don’t worry about a thing. Looking forward to seeing you at the party!”
He listened to the short message three times. With each replaying, her soft, sweet voice wrapped around his heart and melted something cold and hard that had settled inside him over the past two weeks.
Perhaps you can find a workout buddy.
Lisa’s words rattled through his brain, and he immediately thought of Carm, but didn’t think the workout he had in mind was what Lisa had meant.
However, he didn’t have any plans after his next shift, or ever these days. Maybe he’d drop in at her resort and surprise her Thursday evening. The possibility of seeing her again lifted his spirits even more than her voicemail had.
But suddenly, he didn’t want to take a chance on missing her. He needed to see her. He texted her back.
TONY: Sorry. Out for a run. Join me for dinner Thursday? Would love to hear your ideas.
He told himself he owed it to Carm after dropping the ball on the party planning.
His phone rang again almost immediately. He’d hoped she’d text rather than call but couldn’t pretend he wasn’t near his phone.
“Hey, Carm.” He suddenly felt tongue-tied. What was wrong with him?
“Hi! I thought a conversation would be quicker than a text thread. Dinner sounds great. How does seven sound to you?”
“Perfect. Meet you in the lobby at the resort?”
“Why don’t you come to my condo? I’ll text you the address for your GPS.”
She’d just invited him to her place? Don’t read anything into it. This isn’t a date. “I don’t want you to cook. This is my treat.”
She laughed, the sexy, throaty sound making his balls tighten. “You don’t have to worry about that. I rarely cook.”
Tony loved cooking—well, used to—but wouldn’t make the mistake of offering to invade her kitchen. Cooking for a woman might send the wrong message about where he wanted this relationship to go. She was practically a sister to him.
Okay, that was a stretch, because his body sure didn’t think of her as a sister. Not one bit.
But taking her to bed like he might some other woman he took out wasn’t an option. So stop thinking about having sex with Carmella.
“Choose your favorite restaurant, Carm—someplace away from the resort.”
“Dimitri’s, if you like Greek,” she responded without hesitation.
“I love food. Period. That sounds great. I’ll make us a reservation for seven-thirty. Pick you up at seven.”
“It’s a date.” After a pause, she added, “I mean…um…see you then.”
Despite that last bit of awkwardness and Tony’s wandering mind, when he said good night and ended the call, he realized his gloomy thoughts from earlier had vanished. He stood and began the jog back to his apartment with more of a bounce to each step. Maybe getting away from Aspen Corners and all its reminders for the evening was just what he needed.
Tony didn’t analyze his feelings for Carm any further but reminded himself that this was not a date!
Carm scrutinized her image in the mirror, checking out the third outfit she’d chosen for her dinner with Tony. The black cocktail dress came to a few inches above the knee. Was she too dressy? Should she change into slacks and a blouse instead? This seemed a little more like something she’d wear on a date—and this was anything but. Right?
Maybe she should change into something more casual.
But the doorbell rang before she could implement that change. Seven on the dot. She checked off the punctual box in her mental checklist of important things in a man.
Smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from the slightly flared skirt, she made her way from the bedroom to the living room, checked the peephole, and found Tony staring downward while waiting for her to answer.
Opening the door, she saw that he’d also chosen something a little snazzier than casual, so she no longer felt overdressed. His white button-down shirt was open at the collar, revealing tantalizingly tanned skin at his throat. The sleeves had been rolled up twice—perhaps to give him a slightly more casual look—and the sprinkling of dark hair on his arms made her want to reach out and stroke them.
Slow down, girl!
His black jeans hugged his legs and with his steel-gray cowboy boots, the man exuded sexuality.
When her gaze returned to his face, she caught him doing a slow roam down her body too, heating her skin in his path. When he met her gaze and smiled as if in appreciation, her stomach flip-flopped a little. She hadn’t been out with a man in so long, her body didn’t know how to act with someone who was just a friend—practically family.
She reminded herself once again that this wasn’t a date.
Carm returned
his smile, then suddenly remembered her manners. “Come in, Tony.” She stepped back and waved him inside. “Can I fix you something to drink after the long drive?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
“The restaurant’s only five minutes from here. If you need to freshen up, the bathroom is right there.” She pointed to the door that might otherwise be mistaken as a closet.
“I’m fine, but thanks.” He glanced around the room, and she wondered how he would take her eclectic choices in decor. “Nice place.”
“I like it. Would you like to have a seat?” Why was she so nervous and stilted? It was only Tony.
Instead of moving toward the sofa, he walked over to the bookshelf that held more photos than books. “Sorry,” he said, looking over his shoulder at her. “Do you mind if I take a look at these?”
“Not at all.”
She came closer to see which photo had piqued his interest, but the heat from his body sent a stray electrical spark arcing between them. She stopped in her tracks and drew in a sharp breath only to be assailed by his spicy male scent.
Recovering her wits, she turned her focus back to the photo. “That’s Gino, Marc, Sandro, and me on Easter,” she said, pointing to a photo when she was sixteen. “It might be the last photo of all of us together. Gino enlisted the following September.” They all seemed so young and innocent then, no one realizing Gino would be gone before the next Easter would come.
“Nice shot. Gino looks like a typical big brother with his little sister.”
She looked more closely at the photo to see how Gino’s hand rested on her shoulder. “He took the role very seriously, as does Marc now.”
“Sandro, too?”
“Not as much. I guess we’re so close in age that he doesn’t think of himself in that way. Which is fine with me.”
“You sound like Angelina.”
“I’m sure the four of you drove her nuts growing up. Maybe even still.”
He shrugged noncommittally and moved on to another photo. She didn’t realize he’d be so interested in photos of her family. Of course, he’d proven how committed he was to his own family, so it shouldn’t have surprised her.
TONY: Slow Burn (Raging Fire Book 1) Page 13
