Always been You

by Mia Scott

  "Jake, I'm sorry! If I had known, I would never—"

  Big shook his head and glared at his little sister, his hand dropping carelessly to his side. "You're such a fucking train wreck! Just go home, Sarah. I can't deal with you or your fucking problems right now."

  Grabbing his keys off the counter, he stalked towards the door, tugging his coat on before slamming out of the apartment. He hoped it wasn't too late to fix things with Alisha.

  He wondered, as he ran down the stairs, why he hadn't just called her last night. Fuuuuuuuck!

  She stalked down the street, the ire bubbling dangerously up through her body. Gone were the hot, angry tears that stung her eyes while standing in his doorway. Gone was the urge to throw up. The only thing she really wanted to do right now was hit something—maybe starting with the skank he'd screwed last night all because of some pathetic misunderstanding.

  She'd like to hit him—of course. (that went without saying)

  But the person she wanted to hit most at the moment? Was herself. She wished for Doc Brown and DeLorean in order to go back in time and slap some sense into herself and let her past self know that no good would come from sleeping with that asshole.

  Maybe she could just stop and ram her head into the side of a building repeatedly for being so goddamn stupid! She knew—she knew what kind of guy he was going into this. Hell, he'd told her himself. And Maggie warned her (repeatedly). She didn't even want anything more than sex at the start of this; but fucking feelings developed anyway.

  Sonofabitch!

  Tears prickled behind her eyes as she neared the theater. She blinked furiously, refusing to cry over that no-good lothario. Taking a few deep breaths, she (miraculously) kept the tears at bay.

  Her cell phone rang (again). She glanced at it…ignored it (again). "Get a fucking clue and stop calling!" she swore to the device, earning stares from passersby. Fuck them.

  Life was still good (great even) and she needed to remember that. She had an amazing career that she loved and could focus all of her extra time back into. Jake Biggerman could fuck right off if he thought for one second that this could distract her from realizing the dreams she'd had since childhood. He'd been fun for a while, but it was over now.

  Time to refocus.

  Broadway. Tony. Stardom.

  Swallowing the lump in her throat (and taking approximately fifteen more deep breaths) she steeled her spine and entered the theater ready to face the day full of hard work and entertaining an adoring audience.

  "Goddammit!" he bit out when he got her voicemail again. "Alisha, please call me. What you saw this morning is not what you think it was. That was my stupid sister thinking she was funny. I want to see you, alright? Just—just call me, okay? Please."

  Big shoved his phone into the pocket of his coat and walked up the steps of the subway station closest to Alisha's apartment. He was going to get her to talk to him. And even if she didn't answer the door, he thought as his hand closed around his keys, he had his own way in now.

  Jesus, this was a mess.

  Fuck.

  His long strides ate up the distance to her building rather quickly. And with each step he took he scolded himself for being such a fucking prick to her the night before. Not that how he felt at the time had been unwarranted, because he was legitimately pissed off (and yes, she'd hurt his feelings, okay), but he should've stuck around long enough for them to talk it out.

  Coulda, shoulda, woulda.

  He trudged up the steps to her apartment and knocked softly on the door. When there was no answer after a few moments, he debated on whether or not to knock again or use the key she'd given him. Knowing she most likely wouldn't answer, he plucked the keys from his pocket and let himself inside.

  Nothing hit him in the face once he was through the door, so he figured she either wasn't home or she was hiding. "Alisha?" he called, his voice echoing through the modest space. The apartment was exceptionally quiet, which was the exact opposite of everything in Alisha Larrington's life. Frowning, he walked into her bedroom.

  No sign of her anywhere. Dammit.

  He was about to walk out the way he came in, but something on her mirror (oh, the mirror) caught his eye. It was a picture of the two of them from the Colts game that she'd taped up. He had his arm slung carelessly around her shoulders and a crooked grin on his face. She was pressed up against his side, her hand on his chest and beaming for the camera. He'd forgotten about taking that picture right before halftime.

  Fuck. He needed to fix this.

  It dawned on him that it was Thursday and she had rehearsals; he decided to head to the theater and make her talk to him. Snatching the picture from her mirror, he peeled the tape off the back before tucking it safely into the pocket of his coat.

  His phone blared to life when he was turning the last lock on her door; he scrambled for it hoping it was Alisha. A scowl broke out over his face when he saw that the captain was calling. He was on call and had to take it.

  Being on call licked ass.

  "S' Biggerman," he answered gruffly. He listened as the captain barked into his ear (a major blaze at a warehouse) and ordered him to get his ass to the station pronto. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he knew he didn't have a choice. "Give me twenty," he bit out before clicking off.

  "Fuck me sideways," he grumbled, lumbering down the stairs.

  Alisha was midway through rehearsing All That Jazz when her voice cracked unexpectedly.

  Random flashes of her time with Big flooded her mind—their fight from the night before; him telling dirty jokes until she couldn't breathe; watching him perform Thunder Road; their first real kiss as snow fell around them.

  She tried to shake it off, to maintain her composure and her professionalism (two things she prided herself on). More flashes. Singing with Fire Extinguishers; the Colts game; after the Colts game; seeing him exit that bathroom stall the night of Maggie's birthday; that woman answering his door while wearing his t-shirt.

  Her face flushed hot and her throat tightened with tears.

  Then the floodgates opened.

  For the first time ever in her life she let her personal problems affect her performance. She stopped on stage and doubled over, choking on sobs.

  How did everything get so messed up so fast?

  Big stormed into the station and jerked open his locker, pulling out his gear.

  "Big, hey!" James called, walking into the room.

  He shrugged out of his jacket and spared his friend a quick glance. His response was a non-committal grunt.

  "Did you and Alisha work things out?" The murderous look he received in turn told him the answer. "Oh—um, well, what—what the hell happened?"

  "My goddamn sister happened," he spewed venomously, pulling on his protective gear. Knowing James wouldn't let it go until he had the whole story, he gave him a quick synopsis of the details.

  "Dude, just explain that to Alisha. I'm sure she'll understand."

  Big rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the tip, Einstein," he said acidly. : She won't answer her goddamn phone."

  "Biggerman! Keller! Let's get a fucking move on!" the Captain bellowed.

  Slamming his locker closed, he headed for the rig with James and the other guys close behind. Not even fighting a big blaze was going to improve his mood today.

  Three hours later, Big was hot and tired and really motherfucking pissed at absolutely anything and everything—the sound of fire, the smell of the fire, his sister, Alisha for not answering her phone, James for his constant everything will be okay and the sun shines out of his ass attitude, his captain, this old ass musty warehouse for catching fire, faulty wiring, Chang's jokes, Matt's excessive silence, Jack Daniels for his fucking headache (himself, but that went without saying).

  He turned the nozzle on the hose and blasted a wall of flames, the tension in his jaw coiled so tight he thought the bones would snap if he bit down any harder. The only tiny silver lining to this shittastic day was that this fucking fire was ju
st about contained. Once their unit arrived and started working in tandem with the other firemen, things progressed quickly. Big guessed that another hour or two and they could go the fuck home.

  "More slack, Rutherford," he barked, pulling on the hose. He turned the corner and heard a loud, thundering rumble overhead. Stopping, he looked up just in time to watch the ceiling cave in before his world went black.

  Alisha walked back stage with a smile on her face. The show had gone off without a hitch and if she had to critique her own performance, she'd have to say that it was one of her best. (seriously) The earlier bout of extremely unprofessional behavior could now be swept under the rug.

  She was Alisha Larrington.

  And she was a star.

  "Great show, Lisha," Alice grinned, hugging her quickly.

  "You, too, Ali," Alisha replied. "Thanks for everything earlier," she told her earnestly. (Just because she was ready to move on didn't mean she was ungrateful for her co-stars' kindness)

  "Oh, honey, absolutely. You let me know if I need to kick some ass for you. I'll do it!"

  Alisha chuckled. She had no doubt that the little spitfire meant it. "I will. Have a great night."

  "You, too."

  She grabbed her bag and pulled out her phone. She expected to have missed calls (he'd called her all morning, but had stopped trying after the voicemail he left that she hadn't bothered to listen to), but there were five from Maggie and ten from James. Her phone vibrated in her hand and she saw James's name pop up on the ID.

  So, what? Big was having James do his dirty work for him now? Rolling her eyes, she hit accept and decided to give him a piece of her mind. "James, whatever it is that your best friend has to say, I don't want to hear it. The woman in his apartment this morning made it abundantly clear that whatever we had is officially over."

  "Alisha, listen—"

  "No, you listen, James, and perhaps you should put this on speaker, so he can hear this, too. I'm sure he's with you. I want nothing more to do with Jake Biggerman. I was a complete fool to ever start anything with him in the first place and—"

  "Goddammit, Alisha!" James barked. "Shut the fuck up and listen to me for a minute."

  Alisha's mouth snapped shut and she heard the panic in James's voice. She'd never heard him speak that way before. (to anyone ever)

  "There was an accident at work today."

  Her throat went dry. "An accident? What kind of accident?" An accident like Big tripped over a hose and chipped a tooth? An accident like he got hit by a bus crossing the street? An accident like his dick caught fire from fucking that other girl last night? He didn't have his protective gear on and has smoke inhalation?

  There was a long, pregnant pause. "Dammit, James, what kind of accident?"

  "How fast can you get to Lenox Hill Hospital?"

  His avoidance of any kind of answer made her heart stop. "On my way," she blurted, ending the call.

  She grabbed her bag and her coat and flew out the door.

  Chapter 19

  Ice cold panic coursed through her veins as she managed to move one foot in front of the other down the hospital corridor, her heels clacking along the tile. Her mind whirred a million miles a minute over the possibilities that awaited her. Whatever the outcome, she knew it wasn't good (couldn't possibly be) otherwise James would have told her over the phone that he was okay.

  Did he get…?

  Was he going to…?

  Oh God.

  She wouldn't think that way (she couldn't). No matter what transpired between them in the last 24 hours, he was a part of her life and right now he was hurt and needed her support.

  The rest really didn't matter.

  Alisha rushed around the corner and instantly spotted James and Maggie in the waiting area. She swallowed the gigantic lump in her throat and braced herself for whatever it was she was about to hear.

  "James! Maggie!" she called, her voice sounding foreign as it passed her lips. "What happened? How is he?"

  Both heads snapped up and peered back curiously at her. "What are you wearing?" James asked, his brows knitting together.

  Alisha looked down and saw fishnet stockings, realizing that in her haste to leave the theater, she'd forgotten to change out of her Velma Kelly costume. Jesus. "It doesn't matter. Tell me, James—what happened to Jake?"

  James scrubbed one hand over his face while Maggie grabbed supportively at his other one. "We got called in to help out with an old warehouse blaze. Big was ahead of us and the ceiling collapsed."

  Alisha gasped and sank down into the chair across from James.

  "A beam landed on his chest and—I'm so sorry, Alisha. He's my—I should've had his back," he told her, looking down at the worn carpet Beneath his boots.

  She slumped over and buried her face in her hands. "Where is he now?" she whispered.

  "Surgery," James muttered. "The impact from the beam punctured a lung and broke some of his ribs. The ER doc suspected internal bleeding and they took him to surgery."

  "Was he burned at all?" she asked, her stomach flipping over at the thought.

  James just shook his head, slowly lifting his eyes until they landed on hers. "He asked for you—before he lost consciousness—he wanted me to—"

  "I finally found the cafeteria," Sarah huffed, interrupting and striding into the waiting room with three cups of coffee in her hands.

  Alisha's head snapped up towards the unmistakable voice she'd heard that morning (God, that felt like a lifetime ago) before everything went to shit. If Jake had been asking for her, then what the hell was she doing here?

  "Alisha?" she asked, tilting her head to the side and studying her.

  "Yes," Alisha clipped, all set to launch into a heated tirade before the hussy cut her off.

  "Oh my God! I'm so glad you're here. I've wanted to apologize to you all day." She handed Maggie and James the coffee and dropped down in the seat next to Alisha. "I'm Sarah Biggerman—Jake's sister."

  "Jake's—" Alisha trailed off, letting her words wash over her. It was then that she finally noticed the resemblance. (the eyes were a dead giveaway) His sister. Then that meant…he hadn't…thank God. "You're his sister?" she asked, needing confirmation.

  Sarah's lips quirked in true Biggerman fashion. "I am."

  Alisha leaned back in the chair, her head resting against the padding. "His sister," she repeated dryly to the ceiling tiles. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. (or to hug or hit) Snapping upright again, she turned heated eyes on the gorgeous brunette. "But you made me think—"

  Sarah held up her hand. "I know—hence the need to apologize. I had no idea that my brother had finally grown the fuck up and gotten himself a girlfriend. So…sorry about that. He was really pissed at me."

  As relief surged through her, she wondered how she hadn't noticed the similarities between them earlier. "It's all right, Sarah. Thank you for telling me the truth."

  "You want some coffee? I'll go get you some," Sarah offered.

  "No thank you," Alisha shook her head.

  Looking back to James, she felt her heart break. The worried expression he wore was the saddest thing she'd ever seen. That look only served to increase her own worry over Jake. "James?" She waited until he met her eyes. "I—what were you trying to tell me earlier?"

  A ghost of a smile flashed over his lips. "He wanted me to tell you about this brat," he said, gesturing to Sarah.

  "Shut it, Keller," she rasped, flipping him off.

  Alisha couldn't handle the banter at the moment, so she pushed to her feet and walked over to the window. Pressing her forehead to the cool glass, she watched the lights of the city below and said a quiet prayer for Jake. It wasn't something she did often, but if there was ever a time for prayer, now was it.

  "Hey," Maggie said softly behind her.

  "Hey," Alisha murmured, blinking away the moisture that gathered on her lashes. She turned and let her friend envelop her into a tight hug.

  "Doing okay?" Maggie asked
softly.

  Alisha's shoulders shrugged noncommittally. "I'm just worried about him."

  "I know." She knew it could have just as easily been James that had gotten hurt and that thought she shoved way, way back into the recesses of her mind. "Can I get you anything?"

  Alisha pulled back and shook her head. "Well, on second thought," she said, glancing down at her attire.

  "I've already called Russell," Maggie said, stroking a hand over her friend's short wig. "He's on his way with some clothes for you, Velma."

  Alisha snorted out a laugh as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. "I just ran out of there; as soon as James told me he'd been hurt I just—I had to be here. No matter what happened, or didn't happen," she said, casting a furtive glance over at Sarah.

  Maggie nodded sympathetically and brushed her friend's tears away. "I know, sweetie."

  "He's going to be okay," Alisha said adamantly, jutting out her chin. "He's too much of a stubborn ass to not be."

  A smile tugged at the corners of Maggie's mouth. "That's the right attitude." She noticed a doctor approach James and she grasped Alisha's hand for support and pulled her in that direction. "Come on, let's go find out how he's doing."

  Blood roared in her ears so loudly she nearly missed the words full recovery passing through the doctor's lips. "What?" she asked, blinking owlishly.

  The doctor gave her a reassuring smile. "I said that the surgery went well, and your friend is young and strong; and while it'll be a slow one, he'll make a full recovery."

  Breath whooshed out of her lungs and the weight that had been pressing down on her shoulders vanished. "Thank you, doctor," she smiled gratefully.

  "Can we see him?" James asked.

  "He's still pretty out of it, but you can go in one at a time. Keep it short—he needs his rest."

  "Of course," Alisha nodded. "You should go in first," she said, turning to Sarah.

  Sarah shook her head and folded her arms around her body. "No, you go. He doesn't want to see me right now and to be totally honest, now that I know that pain in the ass is going to be all right, I'm back to being mad at him."