Kitty Valentine Dates a Fireman

by Dodd, Jillian

  For a while, the only sound in the curtained-off space comes from our breathing. His is a little thinner than mine, a little shallower. Without asking permission, I reach out and slide the oxygen mask over his face.

  “For Pete’s sake, take care of yourself. You don’t have to be Superman. You’re only human.”

  He ignores this, though at least he doesn’t slide the mask off. “They could’ve been killed because of me—Brian and Chris. They came in after me and had to pull me out. I wasn’t conscious. Not until I was outside. The first person I saw was Jim, and he was …”

  “Furious?” I venture in a whisper.

  “For starters, yeah.” His voice is muffled, thanks to the mask, but at least he’s breathing better. “I knew he’d tear my ass apart for it. I just didn’t expect him to tattle to you.”

  “He didn’t tattle. We’re not children. He’s concerned, and he hoped you would listen to me since you won’t listen to him. He looks at you like a son; I know he does. I could tell from the way he talked about you at the Christmas party. It was, like, one of the first things he said. How you worry him and don’t listen.”

  “It’s just that I feel like it’s what I have to do.”

  “What?”

  “Be that guy. The guy who does everything. Even if it means giving the person I’m carrying my respirator mask to help her breathe.” He rolls his head to the side, facing me. “I know better than that. I’ve been trained. It’s the same as on an airplane. You put your own oxygen on first or else you’re no good to anybody else.”

  “I’ve heard that one, yes.”

  “But in the moment, I forget. I forgot tonight. I told myself …” He turns his face away again.

  “What? What did you tell yourself?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “But it does. And if you don’t want to tell me, fine … I get it. But you have to tell somebody.”

  He makes sort of a snorting sound, like he doesn’t believe me.

  “I’m serious,” I add. “You can’t keep doing this over and over. Eventually, the odds are going to catch up with you.”

  He heaves a deep sigh. “You’re right. I know.” His hand tightens around mine. “To answer your question, I told myself it mattered more for her to live than it did for me to live.”

  “Oh, Bryce.” His cheek is warm under my hand. “That’s not true.”

  “For you maybe. But not for me.”

  “Is this about what happened when you were a kid? Are you, I don’t know, trying to make up for the things that happened back then?” He doesn’t look me in the eye.

  That makes sense. I mean, it doesn’t from where I’m sitting, but when I put myself in his shoes? It makes sense.

  And it breaks my heart.

  “Bryce, sweetie”—I kiss his forehead since his mouth is covered—“you can’t do this to yourself. You have to let it go. Nobody wants you to go above and beyond to risk your life. And I hate to say it, but nothing you do now can erase the past.”

  He rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to tell me that, but thanks anyway.”

  “My point is, all you can do is learn to accept it for yourself. That’s it. And for what it’s worth, I don’t want this for you. I want a lot more for you because you deserve better.”

  The curtain opens, and in steps a nurse. “We’re going to take you for some tests with the pulmonologist,” she explains, checking Bryce’s chart. “And you’ll probably stay overnight, just in case.”

  “Yeah, I know.” When she shoots him a surprised look, he shrugs. “I’ve been through this before.”

  “I’ll get out of your way and let the nurse do her job,” I say, patting his arm and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

  “I’ll call you as soon as I can.” He removes the mask and kisses me back before I turn to leave.

  His voice rings out in my head as I leave the ER. He’s been through this before.

  How many close calls does he have left?

  “I talked to him,” I murmur when Jim comes up to me in the hallway. “He knows he’s wrong. And how he put the others in danger. I know he’s sorry for it.”

  “Yeah, well”—he’s still flushed, upset—“I don’t wanna lose him. But I can’t have one of my guys jeopardizing the rest.”

  “I understand. They took him for tests and will probably keep him overnight. You can talk to him when they bring him back, I’m sure.”

  “Don’t worry.” His face goes a deeper shade of red. “I will.”

  Oh boy. I wouldn’t want to be Bryce right now.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “How do I look?” Grandmother lifts her arms to the sides, so the sleeves of her satin dressing gown fall like wings trimmed in feathers at the cuffs.

  “You look like a queen on her throne.” I have to bend to give her a kiss, even with her being propped up in bed.

  Peter must’ve stuck a hundred pillows behind her. I’m surprised there are any left in the entire city.

  “Which is precisely the effect I was going for,” she admits with a lift of her shoulders.

  “I’ve never seen a heart-attack patient wearing a small fortune in diamonds either.” Her fingers, earlobes, wrists, and neck all sparkle. “No tiara?”

  “Hush. The tiara is getting cleaned at the moment.”

  “Ooh, your sense of humor is back.”

  “It never left.” She adjusts the cuffs of her dressing gown. “If you must know, several of my friends were here to visit. I wanted to look my best for them.”

  “Of course. You have to make sure they know you’re not down for the count yet.”

  “Damn straight.” She smiles my way once I sit in one of the silk chairs near her bed. “I made certain they were aware of my being alive and well.”

  “Good for you. Do you really feel all right?”

  “Between you and me?”

  “Do you even have to ask?”

  She chuckles. “I feel better now that I’m home. Much better. Not quite my old self. I couldn’t imagine taking a walk any farther than the restroom at the moment. But I needed help getting out of bed only a few days ago, so I’ve made progress.”

  “I’m so glad you’re doing better.” I lean over to pat her leg since patting her hand isn’t a great idea. Not with so many hard objects all over her fingers. Hard, shiny objects. “And I’m glad you’re in a better headspace for changing your habits too.”

  “Kathryn Antoinette.”

  Like I didn’t expect that. She doesn’t need to know it though. “What? You mean, you haven’t come around and decided to take better care of yourself?”

  “I take fine care of myself.”

  “Says the woman who just had a heart attack.”

  “It isn’t my fault heart problems ran on my father’s side of the family.”

  “Hello! Earth to you. That’s all the more reason for you to take care of yourself—because you know there’s a history of heart problems in the family. And by the way, thank you for letting me know that only now.”

  “Oh, darling. You’re a third of my age! You have nothing to worry about.”

  “Even so. It’s the sort of thing a girl likes to know. Jeez.”

  “Regardless, I’ve lived my life the way I please. If that means taking a year or two off the original total number of years I was meant to live, so be it.”

  “No. It doesn’t work that way.” When she looks away, toward the window, I get up to follow the direction of her eyes. “Please, don’t ignore me right now. I need you to hear what I have to say. You aren’t the only person who cares whether you live or die. I know you want to have things your own way. But this whole thing, where you act like your life doesn’t matter to anybody but you, needs to end. It’s selfish.”

  “Watch what you say to me,” she warns.

  “I mean it! I’m saying this because I love you. And I’m not the only one who does, and you know that very well—whether you want to acknowledge it or not. That’s none of my bu
siness.”

  “You’re correct about that at least.”

  The woman is a pro at getting on my last nerve.

  “Now, I know how Hayley feels when I dig my heels in. I should call her right now and apologize.”

  Her lips twitch. “Perhaps you should. I suppose it runs in the family.”

  “Yeah, like heart disease.” I plop back down in the chair with a sigh. “I want you around. I’m sorry if asking you to cut back on drinking and eating foods high in saturated fat is such a huge deal. But I love you and want you here with me for as long as possible.”

  Then, with a wink, I add, “And if that’s not enough, just think how impressed everybody you know will be when they see you not only bouncing back from this, but also thriving.”

  She arches an eyebrow.

  “Living your best life.” I wiggle my brows up and down. “Being fabulous and shiny with all your diamonds and whatnot. They’ll say, How come she’s in the best health of her entire life? How come she runs circles around the rest of us—even those of us who are younger?”

  A laugh bursts from her crimson lips. “That would be interesting. And it would burn a few of them right up.”

  “I think it would.”

  She rests her head with a sigh, and that sigh is heavy with fatigue. “I never saw myself in this position, you know. I don’t feel like an old woman. That’s something I used to hear a great deal from older people, my parents’ contemporaries. How young they still felt. It seemed impossible at the time. How could anyone so old feel young? Now, I understand. In my head, I’m as young as you.” She looks down at herself, holding her hands in front of her. “My eyes tell a different story though.”

  “You’re as young as you feel. It doesn’t matter how your body looks. I’ve never thought of you as an old lady, if that matters.”

  “It does—though I realize there’s only so much truth to that statement. But you’re sweet to say it.”

  “You definitely have the best attitude of any older person I’ve ever known. You’re still young and sharp up here.” I tap my head. “That’s important. Sure, some of the things you say make me uncomfortable sometimes, but hey, I’ll deal with that if it means having you in my life.”

  “Speaking of making you uncomfortable …”

  “I should’ve known.”

  Though I can’t pretend to be upset. If she’s able to joke around, she’s feeling better. There were more than a few minutes when I didn’t know if she would ever be able to do that again.

  I’ll take it.

  “Is Bryce still in the picture?” She folds her hands in her lap, bright-eyed, ready to rake me over the coals.

  “He is.” Wow, that didn’t sound very positive.

  The way she winces confirms this. “You don’t sound happy about that.”

  “I don’t know whether or not I am, to be honest. But we don’t have to talk about this. You must be tired.”

  “No, no.” She shakes her head. “You won’t get out of it that easily.”

  “I had to try.” I shrug.

  “So? He’s in the picture, but you aren’t happy about it—not as happy as I would like to see you at any rate. What’s wrong with this one?”

  There’s no helping the impulse to curl up on myself since she’s making it sound like this is my fault. Like I’m too critical. “You aren’t making me feel better about myself, you know. I’m not an extremely picky person. But Bryce … has issues.”

  “We all have issues. You have no idea how many issues your grandfather possessed.” She rolls her eyes, blowing out a long sigh through pursed lips. “Though other aspects of his makeup more than compensated.”

  “Yes, you already told me about him being hung or whatever.” And no amount of wishing I could forget will help. There’s no forgetting that.

  “Well, yes. I wasn’t necessarily referring to that at this very moment, but his endowment didn’t hurt.”

  “Gross.”

  “Except when it did, but only when he was feeling especially enthusiastic.”

  “Double gross.”

  “You’re right. Who would torment you this way if I was no longer around to do it?”

  I can’t bring myself to smile, and I guess she finally picks up on this being serious.

  “What’s the problem with Bryce?”

  Funny, but I can’t quite find the words. It’s not easy, saying this sort of thing out loud, not to her. I love her, but we don’t often get into deep, emotional stuff. “He was almost injured in a fire two nights ago.”

  “The fire in the Garment District?”

  “Yeah, that one.”

  “Peter and I watched the reports on TV. It looked massive.” She frowns. “It’s a problem that he was nearly injured? Did I hear you correctly?”

  “Give me a second to explain at least. Jeez, when you put it that way, I sound pretty heartless.” Looking down at my folded hands gives me an excuse to stop looking into her judgy eyes. “He takes risks. Big risks. This isn’t the first time he’s done it. He received a commendation before. Who knows? Maybe he’ll receive one this time too.”

  “Is he doing it just for the fame it brings?”

  “No. I don’t think so anyway. I think he does it because he wants to make up for the rotten things he did back in the day. When he was a kid, you know?”

  “You know too well the harm he caused, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, but come on.” I throw my hands in the air. “Does he have to spend the rest of his life putting himself in danger to make up for it? He has to get over it eventually, right? It’s gonna get him killed.”

  For once, she doesn’t correct my grammar. Instead, her face falls. “Oh. I see the problem.”

  She doesn’t say she understands though, which makes my heart fall just the way her face did.

  “I don’t think I could handle worrying every day that the man in my life doesn’t do everything he can to come home to me. I would always wonder if this was the day that a big fire was going to break out. The one he couldn’t get out of. Is it possible to build something with someone when you’re always worried they won’t come home?”

  “It isn’t possible, no matter what you’re worried about. If you can’t live in the moment with someone, what else do you have?”

  “What should I do?” Now that everything’s off my chest, I can’t help but slump a little in the chair.

  She grimaces. “That’s a rather heavy question. I’m getting over being ill, and you ask me a question like that.”

  “Nope. You don’t get to do that. Don’t even pretend you’re falling asleep either. I see those eyelids trying to droop.”

  “Very well.” She sighs, staring at me until it gets awkward.

  What’s she thinking? Is she wondering whether I’ll ever find anybody who’s right for me? Whether she’ll ever rest easy, knowing I’m settled down? Because that’s the only future she wants for me—and that’s not her fault. It’s the way she was raised to believe things should be.

  “Well?” I finally have to prompt her once I can’t handle being silently stared at anymore. “What do you think?”

  “I think … I want whatever is best for you.”

  “Oof.” I shake my head, wincing. “That’s such a middle-of-the-road response.”

  “It happens to be the truth. But if that isn’t enough …” She shrugs. “I would feel the same as you do if I were in your place.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. I don’t know that I would wish to be with a man who took unnecessary risks in a dangerous job. He’ll never stop taking those risks. You realize that, I’m sure.”

  “I hate to think it, but I figured it was possible. It’ll never be enough. That’s what scares me. It won’t be enough until he’s dead.”

  “I am sorry. Truly. For both of you.”

  “He really is a good man.” There’s a tear on my cheek, which I brush away, but it’s followed by another. And another. Pretty soon, I can’t s
top.

  Which is when my grandmother does something I can’t remember her doing in the last twenty years at least.

  She holds out her arms. “Come here, dear.”

  So I do. I lie down next to her with my head on her shoulder, and she holds me, stroking my hair while I cry into her satin and feathers. Because, sometimes, that’s what a girl needs. For her grandmother to hold her and tell her everything will be okay.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Do me a favor.” Nina ran her fingers through his hair, still damp with sweat.

  He’d fought so hard, so valiantly. Her hero.

  “What is it?” Larsen’s smile was wide, bright, in the middle of his soot-stained face.

  “Don’t ever take a chance like that again. I mean it,” she insisted when he rolled his eyes. “I’m serious.”

  “That’s the job, babe.” His hand found hers, fingers interlocking. “That’s what you’ve gotta accept if you wanna be with me. This is who I am.”

  “I know that. And I don’t want to change you.” She lowered her head until their noses were almost touching. “But that doesn’t mean you have to go out of your way to put yourself in danger. You don’t always have to be the hero. Because you know what sometimes happens to the hero who takes too many risks?”

  He looked away first, which told her he knew what she meant—even if he didn’t want to face up to it. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Why do you think we’re trained to do this?”

  “You’re trained, yes.” She took his chin, turning his face toward hers again. “But when everybody else tells you something is too dangerous, eventually, it’s time to ask yourself if it’s possible for everybody around you to be wrong. Like, all of them. Every single time. Maybe it’s you. Maybe you’re the one who needs to change your approach.”

  His forehead scrunched up like he was in pain, and it made her heart clench. But better this kind of pain than physical pain from a terrible, senseless injury.

  “I love you. Don’t you know that?” She stroked his hair back from his forehead with as gentle a touch as she could. “I need you around. I can’t spend the rest of my life being scared you won’t come home. Your job is dangerous enough. I know that. I accept that. But if you’re not going to at least keep me in mind and what it might do to me …”