It killed me. I knew how he felt and what he was going through. I’d gone through it, too. But he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, let me or anyone else in.
Nick was on his own.
“What are you telling them?” I whisper, looking around for spectators. Noting we’re alone, I jab him once in the chest with my index finger. “Our business is just that, Nicholas. I don’t want everyone in this damn house giving me shit because of our history.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Christina? You think I want them knowing I was married to a crazy paramedic? Get over yourself.” I’d like to say his words don’t hurt, but they do. Through everything, I never stopped caring for him, and it would appear I’m the last concern on his mind.
“I just wanted to make sure. I had a hell of a time at 75 after and I’m not trying to go through that again.”
“Listen. I’m not telling anyone anything. If you want to, I don’t care, but I’m here to do a job, nothing more, nothing less.” And it’s confirmed. Nick’s the same guy I walked out on two years ago. I wish he would have been able to get close to these guys without the memory of Yaris plaguing him every time he turned around, but it’s not looking that way.
“As long as we’re clear.” Pulling the hair tie from my wrist, I pull my hair back and secure it in a messy bun. “Do you know where I can find my partner?” The chief gave me his name, but I’ve yet to see him, not that I’ve been here long.
“Try the bunks. Mason’s usually napping if we’re not on a run.” If I get paired with a lazy EMT, I might freak out.
“Thanks,” I mutter, turning on my heel and walking back inside. Going upstairs to the bunks, I immediately find Gary Mason, my new partner, by the snoring coming from the back cot. Rolling my eyes, I head back downstairs. Now’s as good a time as any to introduce myself to the firefighters in the house.
The moment I enter the kitchen it feels like all eyes are on me, and not in a good way. I recognize a lot of the guys, having seen them at benefits and department functions, but for the life of me I can’t remember any of their names. Thinking back to when I joined 75, I search for memories of how I finally broke the ice, and then it comes to me.
“I’m going to Shenanigans tomorrow if anyone wants to come. First round’s on me,” I shout, then casually take a seat at the end of the table, refusing to make eye contact just in case they reject my invitation.
A tall, dark-skinned man appears in my line of sight, sits in the chair across from me and takes a bite of his sandwich. “Tony Jones,” he grunts between bites in true caveman style.
“Christina Mitchell,” I respond, already feeling better that I’m not a social pariah in the house.
“You been on ambo long?”
“A few years. I love it.” I really do enjoy my job. It’s rewarding in every aspect of the word. Glancing up at Tony, he’s watching me with inquisitive eyes. “What?” I ask, praying to God I don’t have food on my face or in my teeth.
“It’s been a while since we had a woman in the house. Wondering if you’re going to start bitching about how dirty it is here, or how it smells.”
“Nope. It’s a firehouse. It’s supposed to smell like this.” Tony must have no idea how disgusting 75 was, because if he did, he’d realize that 22 is pristine compared to that house.
“Huh. I think I like you, Mitchell,” he says, grinning as he pops the last bite of sandwich in his mouth.
“I like you, too, Jones.” I return his smile, but it’s cut short when Nick traipses back into the room, eyeing me like he just caught me in bed with his brother.
It’s going to be a long shift …
CHAPTER TWO
TINA
It’s well into the night when I get my first call at the new house. Thankful for the escape from Nick and his glaring eyes, the alarm only sounds for the ambulance. Out of habit, I make my way to the driver’s seat of the ambo, only to be met with the scowling face of my new partner who I’ve yet to meet.
“Rookies ride passenger,” he barks, blocking my path.
“That’s fantastic. Gary is it? Well, I’ll have you know, I’m no rookie. Been on the job for six years. But I’ll let it slide. This was your house first and this is your rig, but I won’t let it go again,” I firmly state. One thing I’ve learned over the years … if you don’t call them out right away, they’ll walk all over you.
Nodding his head with a shocked expression, he climbs into the driver’s seat and fires up the ambulance. Chuckling to myself as I walk around the front, I open the passenger door and put my seatbelt on.
“May I?” I ask, pointing to the radio.
“It’s all yours.” The bay door opens, our lights turn on and as soon as we’re ready to pull onto the street, the siren blares.
“Medic 30 responding,” I calmly say into the radio as Gary takes the turns effortlessly.
“Medic 30 received. 24592 West Seven Mile. One gunshot victim on scene.”
“Just another night in the city,” I sigh, shaking my head. As much as I hate the disaster Detroit’s turned into, I can’t help but love this city with everything I have in me. Also, where else in the state would I be able to go and see as much action … help save as many lives?
Gary hits the sirens again as we cross through intersections, having a few close calls. It never fails, either. I know, in Drivers Ed, we were all taught to move to the right and come to a stop until the emergency vehicle passes, but you’d be surprised how many people completely ignore that rule. Maybe if they knew they could be costing someone their life, they’d get out of the way, but then again, probably not. I guarantee, though, if it was their loved one in need of my help, they’d have their asses pulled over, letting us pass safely.
Arriving on scene, I page into Central, letting them know we’re here and are taking over on the scene. The ambulance is barely in park before I’m flying out the door, walking to the back and grabbing the gurney. Gary’s right behind me, making sure we have all the supplies we’ll need to stabilize our patient, whoever he or she may be. As soon as I hit the sidewalk, an elderly woman rushes over to us, ushering us to where her grandson’s lying on the side of the house.
“Can you tell me what happened?” I ask, grabbing the backboard from the gurney and a C-collar from Gary’s bag.
“Kyle was outside, grabbing the cans to take them out front and one of those jerks came from around the block shooting out his car window,” she cries. “Help him, please. He’s only nineteen. He’s a good boy.” She crouches down beside me, elbowing my side in the process, as I slip the brace around Kyle’s neck
“I never doubted he was a good kid, ma’am. Do you think you could step inside and grab me some water?” I ask, standing up to grab some gauze, glancing at Gary giving me a confused look. I return his expression with one that says, “It’s good. Watch.”
“Sure. Sure.” The woman rushes inside and I kneel on the ground next to her grandson.
“Hey, Kyle. I’m Christina. How ya doing?” I ask, pulling open his jacket to get a better look at the wound. It doesn’t look too bad and the kid’ll probably be just fine when the hospital gets the bullet out.
“I mean, I got shot. How do you think I’m feeling?” he responds sarcastically. Excellent. He’s talking, he’s aware of what’s going on and he’s got a hell of an attitude. One less question to ask.
“Just think of the stories you’ll be able to tell the chicks when they see the scar,” Gary jumps in, catching me off guard. I didn’t think he’d be able to play off me like my last partner did, based on our earlier conversation and all, but I’m pleasantly surprised.
Taping a few gauze strips over his wound, Gary and I get Kyle on the backboard, then on the gurney and begin pushing him toward the rig when his grandmother comes back outside.
“Here’s your water, girl,” she calls, running as quickly as she can with a glass of water, ice cubes and all.
“I’m not going to need it, after all. Kyle’s looking good, but w
e’re going to take him to Receiving if you’d like to follow us. Thanks so much for your help.” I gently rest my hand on her shoulder, feeling the tension release from her body hearing my words. Nodding her head, she heads to her car.
I jump in the back with Kyle while Gary shuts the rear doors and returns to his rightful place in the driver’s seat, pulling out into traffic, aimed toward Detroit Receiving Hospital.
After a few minutes, I have the oxygen machine running, leads on Kyle’s chest, vitals written down on his file and some medication for pain flowing through his veins. Resting my head against the cool metal behind me, I briefly close my eyes when Gary’s voice interrupts my peace.
“Why’d you ask that woman for water? A little inconsiderate, wouldn’t you say?” The condescending tone of his question irritates me, but I’d expect no less. Unlike doctors and nurses, they don’t spend a whole lot of time on bedside manner during paramedic and EMT school. Not many of us actually have people skills, but I’m a rare breed if you will. Having been on the opposite end of the spectrum, I know how good it feels to have someone on your side, even when you’re not the patient.
“Well, if you were paying attention, she was hovering. I wasn’t able to get to the patient and he needed my full attention. So, if by asking his grandmother for some water removed her from the situation long enough for me to focus and examine our patient to the best of my ability, I’ll take inconsiderate over incompetent any day of the week. Feel free to use it in the future if you’d like.”
“Oh.” That’s his response. Just, “Oh.” He could have apologized, but I doubt he would have meant it anyway.
Pushing aside my frustration with my new partner—and God is it already a bi-polar relationship—I radio into the hospital, alerting them to our arrival in a few minutes. They confirm they have their staff on standby to accept Kyle from our care.
The moment we pull into the ambulance bay, the doctors take over and I walk inside with them, giving them all the information we have on the patient, including his vitals and what appears to be his injury. After ten minutes or so, I’ve given them everything they’ll need and have them sign off on our delivery.
Making my way back to the rig, I pause and smile. Regardless if there’s blood on my uniform and my partner can’t decide if he likes me or not, I helped someone tonight. I kept a terrified grandmother calm and made sure our patient arrived to the hospital well cared for and alive. I did my job and it feels excellent.
“You coming?” Gary yells out his window. Again with the interrupting my personal moments. We’re going to have to talk about that, just not right now. I’m too busy riding the high to deal with him.
The ride back to the house is quiet, with the exception of minor chatter on the radio. And as soon as the ambulance is through the bay doors, I don’t hesitate opening my door before Gary shifts into park. With a little pep in my step, I walk through the mess hall and straight to the locker room.
Grabbing an extra uniform from my locker, I take a towel from the rack. Passing through the bunks, the guys appear to be sleeping and that’s pretty amazing because I’m due for a long hot shower. Not many houses have separate bathroom facilities for men and women, and this is one of them. However, there’s a private bathroom with a single shower stall just on the other side of the bunks.
Turning on the water, I pull my hair in a tight bun and strip out of my soiled uniform. Stepping into the stall, I let the hot water run down my aching muscles and quickly wash my body. As much as I’d like to enjoy my alone time and steam up the windows, I know all too well another call could ring through any minute.
Wrapping the towel around myself, I step out of the stall and run straight into Nick. Fucking Nick.
“Can I help you?” I ask, holding the towel tightly at my breasts, praying none of me below the belt is exposed.
“How was your first call?”
“Um, it was good. Why are you in here?” And damn my body. Not for one second have I ever stopped loving Nick and apparently my lady parts haven’t, either.
“Just wanted to check on you.” He raises his arms above his head to stretch and a sliver of his defined stomach peeks out from under his shirt. My eyes automatically zero in on his exposed flesh and when I realize what I’m doing, I redirect my line of sight, but I wish I didn’t. His lips curve up in his sexy little grin and I have to brace my knees so they don’t buckle.
“Thanks,” I mutter, all too breathy. “If you’d excuse me so I can get changed,” I correct the octave in my voice to one more appropriate of one co-worker walking in on another.
Perching himself on the edge of the counter, his smirk widens until I can see the one chipped tooth right in front. “Go right ahead, I don’t mind.” Nick crosses his arms over his chest and brings his hand up to cover his mouth, hiding the panty-melting smile, which I’m thankful for and it allows me a little time to recover and not drop my towel right here.
“Out, Nick,” I harshly whisper as to not wake up the other guys and point to the door. “Now,” I drill the point home. In true Nick fashion, he doesn’t budge, but starts softly laughing.
“This is sexual harassment, you know. I could report you.” Squaring my shoulders, I move to puff out my chest and quickly remember my towel isn’t the largest and that small surge of pride could cause a nip slip.
He judges me for a moment, most likely realizing I’m serious, and slides back to the floor. As his hand grabs the handle, he turns back to me and places his free hand on my hip over the towel. “Usually, sexual harassment is an unwanted sexual advance by a co-worker. I’m just a fireman, no rocket scientist here, but I think it’d be fair to say that any sexual advance I make toward you would be wanted.” His fingers creep inside the flap of the towel and graze the soft skin on my stomach. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure this isn’t sexual harassment. I know your tells, Tina, don’t you forget it.” With that last statement, he opens the door just enough for him to slip through and closes it behind him.
As it latches, I sit on the closed toilet lid and bring my head to my knees. Sucking in deep breaths of air, I desperately try to calm my racing heart. I hate that he’s so damn sexy. With all that sleep-mussed dark hair, lust-filled brown eyes, two day—maybe more—of scruff and even that fucking chipped tooth, on the outside he’s still the man I fell in love with, but the man on the inside … I don’t know him. And he sure as hell doesn’t know me.
Christ, I can’t deal with this. Coming here, first shift and he doesn’t even acknowledge my existence, now I’m all he can see. Is this some new kind of hazing I’m not aware of? Does he miss me? Is he thinking with his dick? This is all too much to deal with in the middle of the night. Hell, it’s too much to deal with at any time.
Standing, I quickly run my toothbrush over my teeth and barely have the last button on my uniform done before the alarm sounds again. With one last glance in the mirror, I remind myself to not let him get in my way. I left him for a reason and that reason hasn’t changed. He’s not changed.
He’ll keep me on the outside, but just close enough that I feel like my Nick’s still in there, but we’ll both know that guy’s long gone.
“Go save a life, Christina. Do your job,” I whisper to my reflection and fly out of the bathroom. At least I can lose myself in my work if I can’t lose myself in Nick.
CHAPTER THREE
TINA
My first shift at 22 proved to be pretty busy. On top of the two calls we already had, add on three more—a woman who thought she was having a heart attack, but it was really a panic attack, a car wreck on the highway and a homeless guy who wanted to get warm for the night.
I’m not complaining, though. This is the exact reason why I love Detroit like no other place around. I’m able to validate my reason for choosing this job with every shift.
Collecting my dirty uniform from earlier in the night and stuffing it in my bag, I’m out front at the exact moment Lacy arrives.
“Back in one piece, just how I li
ke you,” she jokes, moving her purse off the passenger seat for me to get in. I already wish I would have stuck with the bus idea, but calling Lacy was too easy. Damn me for being lazy and hating public transportation.
“Not for a lack of trying.” Smiling at my best friend, I notice she hasn’t dropped Dakota, her four-year-old daughter and the coolest chick I know, off at pre-school yet.
“And good morning to you, Ms. Dakota. Are you excited for school today?” I ask, ruffling her hair and blowing a kiss to the backseat.
“Yep. Ms. Lily said we get to wear jammies today.” Doing a double take, it would appear that sweet little Dakota is still in her Frozen jammies under her coat, Elsa’ed out for the world to see.
“You look absolutely stunning,” I respond in my best British accent. I’m about to ask what the hell the teacher is thinking letting the kids wear PJs to school, but then I remember seeing something on the calendar last time I babysat. “Are you excited to watch Polar Express?”
“Ehhh, I’m excited for snack. We get to have candy canes. I like candy canes, Auntie Tina. They’re my favorite.” Stifling my laugh, I wink at my gorgeous niece and lay my head back on the headrest. Thankfully, I’m going to be able to sleep today with Lacy at work and Dakota at school. After the night I had, I’m going to need it.
I make the quick trip with Lacy to drop off Dakota and then she drops me off at the shop before heading to work. I can’t even begin to express how excited I am to have my own car back. Not that I mind the extra time with my two favorite ladies, but it’s one of those security things that reminds me even though everything else got screwed up in my life, I didn’t lose everything. To most, it’s just a car, but for me it’s proof I figured out how to live on my own.
The first time I moved out of my parents’ house was when I moved in with Nick. Then after our divorce, I crashed on Lacy’s couch until we got a bigger place. Now that she’s getting married, I’m going to have to find a new home. She offered to find something else with Carl and Dakota, but Dakota’s settled. I know she hasn’t started kindergarten yet, but I want her to be able to go with all her friends from pre-school. Having been a kid that moved around a lot, it’s a big deal, even if you don’t get it when you’re little. She’ll thank me when she can say she’s been friends with someone since kindergarten.
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