Falling for a Former Flame: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (ABCs of Love)

by Brenna Jacobs

  Savanna leaned against the car again. “Let’s call it a preliminary search for information. Nick wanted to know how I felt about certain aspects of a relationship with a fireman. He knows a guy who had a pretty serious heartbreak, so we talked about it.”

  Hadley shook her head. “I don’t get it.”

  “Fletcher told Nick that you guys broke up because your independence was incompatible with Fletcher’s hero complex.” Savanna started to say more, but Hadley stopped her with an inarticulate noise of disbelief.

  Holding her hand in front of Savanna to keep her from talking, Hadley closed her eyes and replayed that sentence over again. And again.

  Your independence was incompatible with Fletcher’s hero complex.

  After what was probably too long for politeness, Hadley dropped her hand and opened her eyes.

  “Wow.”

  Other words, even some complete sentences, now entered Hadley’s mind, but none of them felt terribly ladylike. Her words, when they came out, sounded harsh to her ears. But she didn’t care all that much. “Did you two have any other epiphanies about my psyche while you were discussing my dead love life?”

  Savanna shook her head. “Don’t be like that. I’m too tired to fight. It’s a reasonable thing for him to ask me about. He wanted to know if I felt the same way.”

  “The same way as what? The way you imagined that Nick imagined that Fletcher imagined that I might have felt seven years ago?” Hadley heard her voice getting louder and higher, but she couldn’t seem to stop it. “Was anyone planning to ask me if I actually had any of the feelings you all have assigned to me?”

  Savanna, rubbing her hand over her hair, said, “He wanted to know if I need him.”

  Shaking her head in disbelief, Hadley asked, “Need him to what?”

  “Not to anything. Just need him.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Savanna glanced back at the door. “What it sounds like, I imagine. He said we could look at you and Fletcher as a failed experiment.”

  Opening and closing her mouth several times did not bring any words to Hadley’s lips. A wave of annoyance slipped across the back of her neck.

  “I don’t understand you.”

  Savanna raised an obviously tired arm and pointed at Hadley. “You got it. That’s exactly the point. Ready to go back inside?”

  “Wait.” Hadley recognized that her tone may have been construed as impatient or even aggravated. Probably because she was impatient and aggravated. She rubbed her hand across her freezing nose and tried again. Forcing a tone of kindliness into her voice, she put a cheery smile on her face and said, “Savanna, friend, whatever do you mean by that?”

  “Can we maybe get into the car to have this conversation? My face is freezing off.”

  Hadley thought about refusing, just so Savanna would hurry up and explain the whole stupid thing to her, but Savanna had already experienced a pretty rough day. They all had. She clicked the key fob button and the doors unlocked with a chirp.

  Savanna opened the passenger door, took one look inside, and closed it again. “Gross. This seat is a disgusting pile of fur.”

  “I object to your use of ‘disgusting,’ but otherwise I agree. Switch me.”

  Hadley let herself into the passenger seat and watched Savanna settle in behind the wheel.

  “Look,” Savanna said, and Hadley knew that tone.

  “You aren’t going to offend me,” Hadley said. Then she thought for a second and amended. “I mean, it’s always possible. You have a gift. But don’t worry about that.”

  Savanna raised her eyebrows as if to ask if Hadley was sure.

  Hadley nodded. “Say it.”

  “Do you really not understand why Fletcher left?” Savanna asked.

  “Because he didn’t want to be with me anymore.” Hadley couldn’t believe how much it hurt to say those words aloud, even all these years later.

  Savanna shook her head.

  “Because he wanted an adventure?” Hadley tried again. But that didn’t ring true, because together, every day, they had been experiencing an epic adventure of their own making.

  Savanna might have let her go on guessing all night, but she reached over and put her hand on Hadley’s shoulder. “Because he knew you would be just fine without him.”

  Hadley’s pshht sound of contempt was as natural as breathing. “Of course I would.”

  Savanna said nothing, but she kept their eyes locked together as what Hadley had said circulated through the cold air of the car.

  Hadley listened to the echo of her immediate response and knew that while it was true, it wasn’t right, not really. Of course she was “just fine,” but once, her life, her experiences, and her heart had been different. They had been more than fine. Who wanted to be “just fine,” anyway? When she’d been with Fletcher, every day had bubbled over with fun and excitement and it was all so much better than fine.

  These past few weeks, she’d had a reminder of how that had felt.

  And today, when she’d tried to tell him that she missed him, he’d blown her off and said that she was the one who’d done the leaving.

  Could he be right? Maybe she had left.

  Maybe it had been her fault all this time.

  She looked at Savanna, who waited—uncharacteristically silently—beside her.

  Maybe all of this missing and needing were tied up together. Maybe there were ways that she needed Fletcher, even if she didn’t actually need things from him. Maybe she needed to learn to give and take—to accept his chivalry and to be someone who could make him a sandwich now and then, even though he was perfectly capable of making his own sandwich. Maybe it was all bigger than sandwiches and opening doors and filling up each other’s empty spaces.

  It wasn’t impossible to consider.

  Maybe she was wrong about him.

  Maybe she’d been wrong about everything that mattered.

  Hadley cleared her throat softly. “I think I finally see it. All those years ago when I thought Fletcher abandoned me, was it me that left him? What if I really was the one who ended it?” Hadley’s voice splintered with emotion. As her eyes filled with tears, she felt Savanna’s hand reach out and come to rest on her arm.

  As she looked down at her friend’s fingers, nails bitten down with the worries of the afternoon, she understood that while she didn’t need Savanna’s comforting touch, life was so much better when it was there.

  And so, even if she could technically live without Fletcher Gates and his sometimes (often) unnecessary protector/rescuer complex, couldn’t every single part of her world improve if he was part of it?

  This idea floated around in her head and her heart for a few minutes as she watched Savanna’s fingers stroke the sleeve of her sweater. With a deep inhale, Hadley said, “I think it’s time you demanded to be let back into Nick’s room.”

  Savanna practically threw the driver’s door open. “Come on,” she said. “Someone’s going to have to keep Fletcher busy in the waiting room when I kick him out.” She tugged Hadley’s hand to get her to hurry. “That’s your job.”

  Chapter 19

  Fletcher sat in the chair near Nick’s head, his hand on Nick’s arm. Tubes and wires threaded around them, and the steady beeping of monitors covered the sounds of Fletcher’s words.

  “Come on, man. Come back to us. It’s time for you to push through this. If you can wake up now, it means that you got a mean bump on your head, but you’re fine. You’ve had a few hours to nap it off, buddy, and you’re ready now. Come on. Wake up.”

  He shifted in the seat, leaning his elbows into the mattress. In a whisper, he said, “I’m sorry. I should have been there for you. I should have come up the stairs first, and I could have seen that beam coming down. You would have been mad if I’d knocked you to the floor, but it wouldn’t have taken,” he looked at the clock on the wall, “six hours for you to get over it.”

  It had been like this for what felt like a long time—longer th
an he’d imagined Savanna would stay away. He’d give Nick reasons to open his eyes, and then he’d apologize. Then he’d start again.

  Fletcher knew he was following orders when he didn’t go up the stairs of that house with Nick. And he knew that, while all the guys on his crew felt like brothers, the bosses were careful when they sent friends inside to cover each other.

  They described it like this: if a firefighter went into a scene following his brother, or his wife, or his best friend, and there was a moment when he had to make a choice between saving his person and doing the hard thing that was best for the structure, he’d lose the big-picture perspective. He’d do what was best for that one person instead of the whole operation.

  And Fletcher knew that was true, but he hated that he hadn’t been there anyway.

  Resuming his whispered monologue, he said, “All right, Nick. Here’s the deal. Savanna has been here, looking red-eyed and,” here he looked around and cleared his throat, “loyal, since the minute they brought you here. If I ever said anything to you about how I was, you know, scared of her? I want you to forget it. We agree that I don’t bring out the best in her, but dude, she brings out the best in you. If you open your eyes, you’ll get to see a very pretty woman who is eager, no, thrilled to see you.”

  The door swished open and Savanna put her head in. “Tag,” she said with a half-smile. She stepped inside the room and set down her purse. “I’m it.”

  Fletcher nodded and stood up. Leaning over Nick and putting his hand on Nick’s forehead, Fletcher said, “I’m pretty sure there’s a pumpkin pie around here, too.” He slid his hand to Nick’s hand and pressed his fingers. Standing opposite Fletcher, Savanna laced her fingers through Nick’s other hand.

  At that moment, Fletcher on one side of the hospital bed and Savanna on the other, Nick began to stir.

  Fletcher watched Nick’s face as his muscles twitched, his eyes blinked open, and he looked from Fletcher to Savanna, squeezed each of their hands, smiled at them, and closed his eyes again.

  Fletcher felt his breath escape him and then rush back in, as if his body’s reflexes kicked in because he’d forgotten to breathe. He looked from Nick’s face to Savanna to make sure he hadn’t imagined it.

  “That happened, right?” Savanna asked with tears and a smile.

  Fletcher noticed the muscles in his neck and shoulders relax a fraction. He nodded.

  Savanna stabbed a finger at the call button and reached her other hand across the bed to grab Fletcher by the arm. “What did you say to him?” she asked, relief and excitement flooding her face.

  Fletcher needed to wait a second before he trusted his voice to carry the message. “I told him if he woke up, you’d be here,” he said. “Oh, and that there’s pie.”

  She laughed. “I swear, Gates, if he woke up because you mentioned pumpkin pie, I’ll break your kneecaps. You’ll be recovering in the next room.”

  “Whatever it takes,” Fletcher said.

  A nurse pushed through the door and glanced at Fletcher and Savanna. Before she could remind them that only one visitor could be in the room at a time, Fletcher said, “I’m on my way out.”

  He stepped around the nurse, who checked monitors and machines, nodding and making notes in the file on her tablet. Glancing at Savanna, he asked, “Is Hadley still here?”

  Savanna held Nick’s hand in both of her own. “She is. She’s waiting for you. Hang on,” she added, letting go of Nick’s hand and pulling a scrap of paper out of her purse; she scrawled a few words on it then folded it up. She motioned Fletcher to come to her side of the room, and he navigated machines and another nurse who was keying something into a computer.

  Savanna took Fletcher’s hand and pressed the folded paper into his palm. She folded his fingers over it and pointed to the door.

  Fletcher stopped in the hallway right outside Nick’s room and unfolded the paper.

  Need looks different on each of us.

  He had no idea what that meant, but he hurried back to the waiting room, eager to share a piece of good news with Hadley. Eager to be in the same room with Hadley, even after their weird little walk down memory lane earlier. Not a walk, exactly. More like a stagger. But even if she had misremembered every component of the way their relationship had ended, he wanted to be where she was. Even if she continued to blame him for her past choices, he could live with that as long as she was nearby.

  He pushed the button and the door buzzed open. He knew he’d see Hadley right away. He’d always seen her first in a crowd. Even without her fiery red hair, she was always instantly recognizable, as though a giant cosmic arrow was pointing to her, as though a spotlight shone on her.

  But she was nowhere in sight.

  Fletcher walked the perimeter of the room just in case he’d somehow missed her. He knew, however, that he hadn’t. Couldn’t.

  He walked the room again, this time looking into every face, wondering if somehow these people who were hurting, waiting, wondering and frightened were experiencing these feelings in the same way he was.

  When the door swished open, he looked toward the entry and saw Hadley hurrying into the warm hospital. As difficult as it was to stop himself from running to her, he kept his pace normal, but she could be in no doubt that he was heading for her.

  Had she done something to her hair? And maybe reapplied lipstick? He couldn’t be sure what she’d done, but she smiled at him with a radiant glow. She stood in the doorway of the ER clenching her hands together. There was enough worry in her smile that he grew in his own confidence. If she was nervous, maybe he didn’t have quite so much to fear.

  Fletcher closed the distance between them. “He woke up,” he said, not willing to let her hold her worry for Nick any longer than she had to. “He gave Savanna his goofy grin and slipped right back to sleep, but waking up is such a good sign,” he said.

  Hadley stepped into his arms, and even though he had not let himself think too much about holding her, had not let himself remember this sensation, it didn’t matter. Years of memories flooded into his mind—memories of standing exactly like this, his arms around Hadley, and her cheek pressed into his chest, listening to his heart.

  He hoped she’d listen to his heart when he told her what was in it.

  She said something into his chest that he couldn’t hear. He wanted to know what she’d said, but not enough to let her go. Not nearly enough.

  In a minute, she pulled back, her arms still around his waist. “Do you want it?”

  “Want what?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Never mind, it’s okay.”

  “No,” he said gesturing to his shirt where her words had gotten lost. “I just didn’t hear what you were asking about.”

  She shrugged, as if she thought her offering might be silly. “I said I made you a sandwich. It’s a roll and some turkey because that’s what I had in the car. But I thought you might be hungry.” She handed him the bundle wrapped in a take-out napkin he was sure she had pulled from her glove box.

  He looked from the sandwich to her and back again. What had she said to him about not being the kind of girl who makes a sandwich for a man? Was there some kind of message here? He didn’t dare hope so, but he smiled and thanked her all the same.

  “It’s not very pretty,” she said. “Anyone else would have done a better job, but I…” She didn’t finish, and he only nodded and smiled. She was nervous. This could definitely be a good thing.

  “Want to sit?” she asked. Her voice was quiet, and he couldn’t tell if that was out of respect for the room they were in or for some additional reasons.

  A guy could hope.

  As Fletcher sat down, he remembered Savanna’s scrap of paper. Still holding it in his hand, he took a bite of the sandwich. He watched Hadley, who was openly staring at him.

  He swallowed and said, “What?”

  She shook her head and motioned to his food.

  He shrugged and smiled as he took another bite. If she wanted t
o sit this close to him and watch him eat the food she’d put together for him, he wouldn’t fight with her about it.

  When he was done, he wiped his fingers on his pants and handed her the paper he’d been clutching.

  “What is this?”

  He shrugged. “Savanna gave it to me.”

  She unwrapped the paper. “It’s a receipt from Taco Cabana.”

  He made a turning gesture with his hand. “I think she left you a message on the other side.”

  Hadley read the scribbled message and immediately blushed bright pink. “I don’t think that’s for me,” she said, but she shoved the paper into her coat pocket.

  Holding his hand out for it, he said, “Does that mean it’s for me?”

  She didn’t say no, but she didn’t give it to him, either. He thought about what he’d read. Need looks different on each of us. He wondered if Hadley understood Savanna’s message. He was pretty sure he did.

  “Fletcher, I have something to say to you,” Hadley said. “Actually, a couple of things.” She looked around, and he felt a pull toward her with every fidget and nervous glance.

  She unzipped her coat and then zipped it back up. She looked at his hands. Finally, she faced him again.

  “Fletch,” she started again, and he knew he would never grow tired of hearing her say his name.

  “If I tell you I’m sorry for some things, will you believe me?”

  “When have I ever not believed you?” he asked.

  “That might be part of the problem. You’re too quick to trust me. And sometimes I say things that I think are true, even when they’re not.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been very nice to you since you got back. To say I’m glad that you’re home is a huge understatement.”

  He wanted to reach out and touch her, to reassure himself that he was hearing correctly. But she sat with arms crossed tightly in front of her. He wasn’t about to interrupt her, so when she snuck a glance at him, he gave her a small smile of thanks.

  “So that’s the easy one.” She looked down at her shoes.

  “It’s possible that I’ve been mad at you for a while now,” she said, her eyes never meeting his. He didn’t laugh, at least not aloud.