“You’re not. It’s fine.”
“Are all firemen off limits?” Rachel asks. “As in you won’t date any of them?”
“Pretty much. It’s not worth the risk.”
“Does that mean you wouldn’t date a cop, a marine”—Jordan bites his lip in thought—“a lion tamer?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it, but I guess not.”
He looks at me in disappointment. “You’re really narrowing your chances, there, Emma. Why would you let someone’s occupation get in the way of true love?”
“There are plenty of guys out there with safe jobs,” I say. “You, for instance. Being a teacher is safe.”
He snorts. “Unless you count what happened to you and Becca.”
“Okay, fine. You’ve got me there, but that was a one-in-a-million thing.”
“How come I’ve never seen you get all dreamy-eyed over a teacher?” Lisa asks. “For that matter, how come you don’t date teachers? Or anyone?”
“Would you quit it with the dreamy eyes? And I date.”
Six pairs of eyes look at me like I’m full of shit.
“What?” I ask.
“You don’t date,” Kelly says. “You fuck.”
My chin hits the table for the second time tonight. “Do you have to be so crude?”
“Well, what would you call it when you have random men over and then kick them out before they can so much as cuddle?”
“I’d call it being responsible by not giving my daughter the wrong idea.”
“That is so ass-backwards, I don’t even know where to start dissecting it,” Jordan says.
“Huh?”
“Sleeping with random men is not responsible.”
“That’s not what I meant. I don’t want Evelyn seeing me with a man and thinking I’m going to have some happily-ever-after relationship.”
“Well, why the hell not?” he asks.
“Because despite how much two people love each other, not every relationship ends up that way.”
“I think you’re using what happened to your dad as an excuse not to have a mature adult relationship,” he says.
Becca hits him in the arm.
“What?” he says. “You know we’re all thinking it.”
“Do you mind if we talk about something else?” I ask.
“You mean something other than the hot, hunky fireman?” Michelle says. “What was his name, anyway?”
“Brett Cash,” Becca says. “Lieutenant Brett Cash.”
Michelle snickers. “God, Emma. Even his name is sexy.”
I know it is. “Whatever. Come on, guys, let’s order a few pitchers of margaritas and plan an epic wedding.”
Chapter Fifteen
Brett
“You’re the first person I wanted to call,” Brianna excitedly screams into the phone. “Can you believe it? I might be the next backup singer for White Poison. Oh my God, Brett. I’m going to meet Adam Stuart and go on tour with him. Well, if I make it that far. I mean they told me there’s like a hundred girls up for the gig. But still, there’s a chance, right? Do you really think I can do it? Eeeek!”
I laugh. “Of course you can do it, Bria. What a sensational opportunity for you.”
“This could be epic. Can you imagine the kind of exposure I’d get, being on stage with White Poison? It’s the break I’ve been waiting for.”
“I’m so proud of you,” I say.
“Don’t be proud yet. I might not make it.”
“It doesn’t matter if you make it or not, I’m still proud of you.”
There is a long pause. “Do you think Mom would be proud of me?”
“Hell yes I do. You’re going after your dreams, Bria. Not many people have the courage to do that.”
“But I’ve done so many things that would have disappointed her.”
“All bumps in the road, little sister. What doesn’t break us makes us stronger and all that.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I know so.”
I look out the window. Emma is walking around the corner. It’s not as if I’ve been waiting for her or anything. Except that I totally have. Just like an adolescent in heat. “Bria, I have to go.”
“Wait, is she there? I almost forgot she was coming. Are you so excited? Are you going to ask her out?”
“Slow down. I don’t know yet. Once she makes it inside the school, she might not want me around anymore. I have zero idea where this is going, if anywhere at all.”
“She’d be crazy not to want to date you. You’re the whole package. And if she says she doesn’t want to, introduce her to Leo. That kid is a chick magnet.”
Emma comes inside. I watch her from the common area. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay. I’m going to want details. Good luck.”
I laugh. “I’m not the one auditioning to join a famous band.”
“Eeeek!” she screams again. “Bye.”
“Oh, hell yeah,” Justin says when Emma appears with a tray of goodies. He hops off the couch and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “What’s for breakfast?”
She peels back the corner of the tin foil. “Individual coffee cakes. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I made cherry, cream cheese, and apple.”
“We all want to marry you,” he says. “I hope you know that. Even the ones with wives.”
She blushes and looks in my direction.
“Good morning.” I take the tray from her. “You don’t have to keep doing this, but it sure is appreciated.”
“I like doing it, especially in the summer when I have more time on my hands.”
I put the tray on the table and pick up a cherry coffee cake, eating it in two bites. “Dang, Emma. These are heavenly.”
Dispatch comes over the loudspeaker, and my heart sinks. Damn, there’s only ten minutes left on shift.
“I’m really sorry,” I say, turning and running to the rig. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be. If you don’t want to wait, I’ll understand.”
She shrugs. “I’ll wait a while.”
“You can stay here if you want, hang out in the common room.”
She follows me into the garage. “Nah. It’s really nice outside. I think I’ll go wait on—”
“Our bench,” we say at the same time and then smile.
“See you soon, Emma.”
“Okay, Lieutenant.”
Fuuuuck me. The way she says it almost gets me hard, even when I’m racing out the door to a fire.
I watch her as she walks out of the garage after the trucks pull out. I can’t tear my eyes away from her. And apparently, she can’t tear her eyes away from me either.
Twenty minutes later, the call having been a false alarm, we’re pulling back into the garage. I hop down and wave to Emma, holding up the fingers on my right hand, indicating I’ll be five minutes.
She flashes me the okay sign.
“What’s up with you and the brunette who always sits on the bench?” Kent Hayes, from the next shift, asks.
“I’m still trying to figure that out.”
He smirks. “If you can’t figure it out, I’m sure I can.”
“Don’t even think about it, Hayes.”
He raises a brow. “Territorial, are we?”
“Just. Don’t.”
I go to the locker room to change clothes, and realize that for the past week, I haven’t stopped thinking about her. Even when I was working on the car the other day with Jay, all I wanted to do was tell her how great it was. Jay really got into it and was excited about fixing it up with me. His mom called me later that night and told me she already saw some changes in him. He even asked her to buy him a model car kit—something he hadn’t done since before his father died.
I felt such a sense of accomplishment, and all I wanted to do was tell Emma.
Five minutes later, I’m crossing the street. Emma stays seated on the bench, so I join her.
She’s quiet and contemplative. “What are y
ou thinking?”
“Isn’t that what women say after sex?” she says with a giggle. Then she turns a deep shade of red. “I mean, not that I wanted, or we were … oh, God, you know what I meant, right?”
I laugh. “I know a joke when I hear one. I only asked because you looked deep in thought, and I wondered if you were having second thoughts about this whole thing.”
She looks confused.
“You know, about going into the school.”
“Oh, right.” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, making me wonder just what thing she was thinking of. “I feel like such a wimp. Everyone else has been back to the school, even Becca. Everyone but me.”
“You’re not a wimp.”
“I have nightmares about it,” she says sadly.
“I’ve had a few myself. But that’s nothing new. In this job, it goes with the territory.”
I don’t tell her that one of those nightmares was about her. About Kenny Lutwig shooting her because I was stupid and riled him up. I watched her die at my feet, unable to save her because the blood was used up. I woke up sweating so badly, I had to change the sheets.
“I haven’t had nightmares like this since my dad died,” she says.
“I had a lot after my mom died, too.”
“Did you dream about her dying in the south tower?” she asks.
“Actually, no. I dreamed of her coming into my room the morning she left. Then I dreamt of her getting hit by a car or drowning. It was always something different. My dad never shied away from letting me watch the 9/11 footage, so I knew exactly how she died, but I never saw that in my dreams.”
“We watched it on TV, too,” she says. “But after the first tower collapsed, my mom made someone take me out of the room. I never saw another minute of coverage. To this day I turn off the TV if they start talking about it. Unlike you, I always had the same dream. He tells me everything happens for a reason and then walks into the south tower right before it collapses.”
“Wow, that’s prophetic.”
“Yeah, well, I’m still waiting to find out the reason.”
I take this opportunity to tell Emma about Jay and the old Mustang. “I thought I’d fix it up and give it to Leo one day, but now I have the feeling that maybe the reason I’ve had the car all along is for Jay.”
She looks at me pointedly. “Talk about prophetic.”
“I don’t know. It’s just been on my mind a lot lately.”
“You want to give the car you’d been saving for your own son to a stranger?”
“He’s not such a stranger anymore. I feel a sort of bond with him. And somehow I sense he needs that old car more than Leo ever could.”
She studies me for a second. “You’re really something else, Lieutenant.”
“I’m just trying to help a kid who went through what we did. It’s no big deal.”
“You’re wrong, Brett. It’s a very big deal.”
I stand and offer her my hand. “What do you say, Emma Lockhart. Want to go kill this bitch?”
She laughs briefly, but then her face turns serious as she looks in the direction of the school. She puts her hand in mine and I pull her to her feet. She looks at our hands. Does she feel the same spark I do?
“Yes,” she says. “I do.”
For a second I wonder if she’s answering my spoken question or my silent one.
Our hands part as we stroll to the school. I tell her about Jay, but I’m not sure she’s listening. A bead of sweat trickles down her temple, despite the morning’s coolness. When the school comes into view, she slows considerably. Her breathing accelerates, but she crosses the street. When we get to the same spot as the other day, between the school and the grocery, she stops.
I don’t say anything, I simply stand by her side and wait.
“I just need a minute,” she says.
“I know.”
She turns. “You do, don’t you?”
I nod, and we share a moment of clarity about the unfortunate bond we share. “You’ve got this, Emma.”
“You really think so?”
“I do.”
She shuffles her feet slowly until she’s standing in front of the school. She looks at the steps, and I know she’s thinking about the moment she was taken hostage.
I’m positive she’s about to turn and leave, so I trot up the steps and try the door. It’s locked, so I press the call button. I keep my eye on Emma to see if she’s going to bolt. She doesn’t. She just watches me.
A minute later someone comes to the door. The woman takes in my FDNY shirt and then notices Emma on the sidewalk. Her expression becomes compassionate. She obviously knows who Emma is and unlocks the door.
“Thanks,” I say. “Can you give us a minute?”
The woman backs away. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be in the office if you need anything.”
I stand in the doorway, holding one of the heavy glass doors open as I wait patiently to see what Emma will do. “It’s only a few more steps. I’ll wait here all day if that’s what it takes.”
“I’m being ridiculous,” she finally says.
“You’re being human.”
Her feet inch forward, and she climbs the first step.
“Look at me,” I tell her. “You’re just going to work, same thing you’ve done for years. Think of all the students you’ve taught here. You are shaping the lives of those who will run the country one day. I can’t think of a more important job than the one you do.”
“I can,” she says, looking at my T-shirt.
“Eyes on me,” I say.
She locks eyes with me and ascends the last few steps. I nod encouragingly and my smile grows bigger as the gap between us closes. She makes it all the way to the doorway.
I step aside. “All you have to do is walk through.”
She holds my stare as she steps across the threshold. She’s done it. She’s conquered her fear. I’m about to throw a fist pump when Emma starts to panic.
Her eyes glaze over and she starts shaking. I consider rushing her outside the door, but that will only make it twice as hard for her to come back next time.
Think, Brett.
I impulsively pull her into my arms. I cup her face. I kiss her.
At first, she resists, and I think this was a horrible idea, but then she kisses me back. She kisses me hard and grabs onto my sides, locking me to her. She kisses me like a drowning woman who has come up for air. It’s desperate. Deliberate. Passionate.
It’s the first kiss I’ve shared with a woman other than Amanda in almost a decade. And I could be wrong, but I’ll bet it’s the best damn first kiss anyone has ever had.
I’m not sure how long we stand here and kiss, but eventually she pulls away. “Why did you do that?”
“I thought you needed a new memory of this place to replace the old one.”
She wipes her bottom lip, and I see the hint of a smile.
She turns to the administration office. “I need to do it all. Get it over with.”
I gesture to the inner doorway. “Lead the way.”
She carefully walks through the door, taking us behind the glass wall that separates the office from the reception area. She gazes at the corner where the gunman kept most of the hostages. She keeps moving until she’s in front of the storage room door. Her hand shakes.
“Do I need to kiss you again?” I joke.
She looks at me, her eyes focusing on my lips as if she’s about to take me up on my offer. “I’m … I’m fine.” She looks at the door again. “Do you think you could …?”
I step up to the storage room door and open it.
She slowly follows my path and pokes her head in cautiously, as if she thinks something will jump out and attack her. “Don’t let the door close.”
“No way,” I tell her. I’m not too happy being back here either.
She glances around the storage room from the doorway, looking at the tables and boxes. “Everything is back in its place. There’s
not even a trace of blood on the floor. Isn’t that strange? I mean, I figured they’d clean it up, but it’s like nothing ever happened.”
I smile. “You did it, Emma.”
“I’d like to go to my classroom, if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure thing. Let’s go.”
She backs out of the room and watches the door as it closes, shaking her head like she can’t believe what once happened behind it.
She leads me through a door to a back hall, where we pass dozens of classrooms. “Here’s mine,” she says, pointing to one.
“It doesn’t even look like a classroom,” I say.
“That’s because they move almost everything out for the summer. It’s much nicer during the school year. Here, let me show you.”
She pulls out her phone and scrolls through some pictures, then stops and hands it to me. “Here’s what it normally looks like.”
She is with her students, standing in front of a white board that has her name written in large block letters: MISS LOCKHART. Around the edges of the white board are colorful drawings, presumably made by her students. I notice how happy she looks. Happier than I’ve ever seen her.
“You love teaching, don’t you?” I ask.
A smile brightens her face as she looks at the picture over my shoulder. “I do. I’ve been so worried that I’d never be able to do it again. But now …”—she looks around her classroom—“I feel like nothing could ever keep me from it. Not even Kenny Lutwig.”
A huge sigh escapes her, and I can see the tension draining from her body. “Thank you, Brett. I don’t know that I could have done this without you.”
“You’d have done it. Because anyone who loves teaching as much as you would do anything to keep doing it.”
She studies me thoughtfully. “Is that how firefighters feel about their jobs?”
She’s not talking about me. She’s asking about her dad. “Every single one I’ve ever known.”
Someone walks into the room. “Sorry,” the man says when he sees us. “I didn’t know anyone was here. I’m supposed to set up for the CPR class.”
“We were just leaving,” Emma says.
As we walk down the hallway, she looks longingly back at her classroom. That makes me smile. She’s going to be just fine.
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