The Fireman's Son

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “Any fatalities?”

  “Two. And one injured, non–life threatening. That’s actually why I’m calling...”

  He’d wondered. Every crash was newsworthy—a fatality more so. But it would wait until he got into work. He and Brandt were pretty good about respecting time off. Everyone had to have downtime. Time to regroup.

  “Faye was on call...”

  His heart sank. If she’d screwed up, been unable to get there, he’d have no choice but to take measures.

  “The fatalities were pretty clear and she went straight for the injured...”

  She’d made it to the scene.

  No reason for him to feel relief to know that one of his employees had made it to work.

  “The guy was clearly under the influence and scared out of his wits. We got him out of the car and on a stretcher, but he went for Faye when she was starting an IV in the back of the bus...”

  In his bathroom, with shaving cream on his face, Reese stopped cold. Stood there looking at the man in the mirror, not recognizing the fear in his eyes.

  “You’re telling me Faye was hurt?” And it hadn’t been the first words out of Brandt’s mouth?

  “No, boss, of course not. You’d have been called at the scene...”

  Of course he would have. It was protocol in the event of an employee injured on the job. He nodded to the guy in the mirror.

  “She handled it like the pro she is. But he swung at her a couple of times. Connected once just below her left eye, but she said not with much force. I just thought you’d want a sit-down, especially with her being new and all...”

  Any time a member of his team dealt with something tougher than usual, he called for one-on-one meetings. Firefighters were trained to be tough. He wasn’t going to send his people off to the shrink every time they had a hard day. But he did insist on his own personal assessment, just in case someone needed to seek help.

  “Is she still at the station?” he asked.

  Of all people to be with a violent victim, it had to be Faye? A woman who’d survived years of partner abuse and come out on the other side? Taking charge of her life. Moving on. Helping people. Raising a little guy all on her own? An at-risk little guy...

  “Yeah, she’s here,” Brandt said.

  He swallowed.

  “Have her set up a meeting with me for later today before she leaves.”

  It’s what he’d do with any of his crew.

  Just not something that normally consumed his thoughts until it happened.

  * * *

  PRETTY MUCH THE last thing Faye wanted to do on Thursday was have a private meeting with her boss.

  Hard to imagine that Reese would want to meet with her alone.

  Surely he wasn’t going to fire her for having an altercation with a victim? The man had been flailing—fighting off her attempts to save his life. She’d had no choice but to forcibly restrain him.

  But all the way back to the station that afternoon after seeing to Elliott, she played the scene over in her mind. Had she been too tired? She’d barely fallen back to sleep after Elliott’s nightmare when the call had come in.

  Adrenaline had kicked in as it always did when she was on the job. She’d followed protocol.

  Reese’s truck was in his parking spot as she pulled in. She took a last glance in the rearview mirror, checking to see that her makeup completely covered the bruise forming under her left eye. She’d had a couple of hours’ sleep before taking Elliott to the Stand that morning.

  Not sure what to wear for the inquisition, she’d gone in to change when she dropped off Elliott, opting for black pants and a white, somewhat dressy button-down top, made of silk and tight at the waist with a flare to the hip. She hoped it spoke of strength. And success. More than that, she liked how she looked in it. At the moment, how she felt mattered most.

  Because she was off shift as soon as she finished her meeting with Reese, she’d left her hair down and ran her hand through it now, throwing it back over her shoulder as she approached his door.

  She still had a job. If, in an hour, she didn’t, she’d deal with that then.

  Heart thumping, she raised her hand to knock. On Reese’s door.

  Her Reese’s door.

  Hand suspended, she stopped.

  How cruel could fate be to bring them to this moment?

  She reminded herself that she was vulnerable. That her psyche, in its effort to heal, would catapult her back and make her think something was real when it was just a figment of her imagination.

  Shaking her head, she knocked.

  CHAPTER NINE

  WHEN SHE FIRST walked into his office, Reese hardly recognized Faye. He couldn’t remember a single time he’d seen her in dress pants. She’d worn jeans. Shorts. And dresses. Right?

  Or was time being merciful and allowing him to forget something?

  “You wanted to see me?”

  Her hair was down. In the weeks she’d been back, he’d only ever seen it in a ponytail.

  There was a definite darkening under her left eye—in spite of her attempt to hide it with heavier makeup.

  Like she’d hidden years of her husband’s abuse?

  He’d been reading up on domestic violence over the past few days, prompted by his meeting with Kyle and Mandy Dawson. And, dammit, Faye.

  “Yes,” he said, standing and motioning to a chair in front of his desk. “Please have a seat.”

  They both sat.

  Keep it official. Do your job. Live your life. Let her live hers.

  “Listen, Reese, I don’t know what you heard, but I followed protocol all the way...”

  He hoped he didn’t show that she’d put him off his mark. The last thing he’d expected was for her to come in on the defensive.

  He’d been trying to figure out how to nurture her without actually doing so. To check up on her without appearing to care.

  “You think you’re here for a reprimand?” he asked, hearing the surprise in his voice in spite of his best attempt to suppress it.

  “Aren’t I?”

  He shook his head. Looked for words. Didn’t find any he liked.

  “Then why am I here?”

  “It’s customary,” he said, sitting back in his chair as she sat forward. “Any time a member of the team has a call that is more challenging than usual, that member has a sit-down with the chief.”

  He heard himself. Wondered if he’d ever sounded as pompous with any of the other members of his crew.

  “With me,” he corrected. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  “You did?” She didn’t smile. But her expression relaxed.

  And she looked...stunningly beautiful.

  No!

  She looked...rigidly...out of place.

  “Well.” She stood. “I’m fine. And if that’s all, I’d like to get a few errands done before it’s time to fix Elliott’s dinner.”

  What the hell? He was in charge here. He was the one who would call an end to the meeting.

  “That’s not all,” he said and looked at her chair. He was acting like an ass. And was not all that fond of himself at the moment.

  She sat.

  He felt better.

  And like even more of an ass.

  “The whole idea of the meeting is for me to chat with you. For me to get a sense of how you’re doing. Not for you to tell me you’re fine. If all I’d needed was to hear that, I could have called. Or sent an email. Or text.” He was trying to treat her like any other employee, but was pretty certain he failed. The damned history between them...

  He had her number programmed into his phone, because he had all of his employees’ numbers programmed in. They worked on schedule, but they were still emergenc
y personnel. If he needed someone on his staff to handle a particularly difficult job, he needed to be able to reach them immediately.

  “I get that you’d need to do that with other employees,” she said, “but you know me. I’m looking you in the eye and telling you I’m fine. You should know that it’s true.”

  She might have him there.

  But...

  “You look tired.”

  “I was called out in the middle of the night.”

  “The first day we met in this office was after a middle of the night call. You didn’t look tired then.”

  When she glanced down at her lap, he knew he was doing more than being an ass. He was actually doing his job. Noticing something about an employee that was slightly off.

  The realization was not only a relief, it instilled his normal confidence. Something that only one person had ever been able to strip away from him: the woman sitting in front of him.

  “So?” he asked, not being the least bit generous by giving her any space. He looked straight at her. Pinned her with his forthrightness.

  As he’d do with any other employee he thought was holding out on him.

  “So what?”

  “The darkening under your eyes. Like you’re not getting enough sleep...” he said. Except he’d meant to ask her about what had happened out on the road early that morning. He’d found that getting people to talk about the tough day usually relieved the immediate pressure of it, let his team member get it out and deal with it. Or it could show him where the issue might be.

  “I didn’t get much sleep last night. Before the call.”

  Was she dating someone already? Had he been in her bed when she’d been called into work?

  Immediately recognizing the inappropriate waywardness of his thought, he reined himself in. Severely.

  “Any particular reason?” More on track. He allowed himself that one.

  “Elliott had a nightmare.”

  Something about the way she said that, the way her hand clutched the wooden arm of the chair, the way her chin tightened, had his gut tightening up, too.

  “A nightmare?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What...did he climb into bed with you? Wake you up?” It was what kids did, right?

  She shook her head. Looked him in the eye. And seemed to come to some kind of decision.

  “I told you my son was at risk,” she said.

  He nodded.

  “Part of the reason we know that is because he sleepwalks.”

  Reese had sleepwalked as a kid, or so he’d been told. It had passed. “A lot of kids do,” he offered, congratulating himself for staying on the “just like with every other employee” track.

  “Elliott does it a lot. Sometime it’s not that alarming. He’ll get himself something to eat. Or go to the bathroom. The nightmares are induced by a feeling of insecurity. Sometimes to take care of that, all he needs is to meet a perceived physiological need...”

  Oh yeah. He was in over his head now.

  So much so, Reese wanted to end the interview. Recommend counseling. Before he screwed something up.

  He didn’t ever get too close. He’d learned.

  “Sometimes...but not last night?” He looked at the woman across from him and couldn’t bring himself to dismiss her.

  She shook her head.

  “Sometimes his only goal is to get out.”

  “Get out?”

  She nodded.

  He tried to imagine what that meant.

  “It’s his way of trying to escape what he can’t handle. A trauma he can’t deal with. A sense of inadequacy or insecurity.”

  He heard her words. And heard something else, too. “He’s trying to escape the fact that he heard his father hurting his mother and couldn’t do anything to stop your pain,” he guessed. He’d been doing some reading.

  “And escape the fact that I didn’t do anything to stop it, either.”

  Her words were a shock to him. Apparently he hadn’t done enough reading.

  “You?” he asked. “You were the victim.”

  Of course, but a kid might not be able to make that distinction...

  He had no idea how old her son had been when he’d first heard his father hurting his mother.

  Didn’t want to know, either.

  TMI was not his way. Especially not with her.

  He had a very clear view of his own limitations.

  She seemed to agree, as she didn’t respond.

  “So...last night...was it simple physiological function, or a need to get out?”

  He already knew the answer. Her entire demeanor was like a billboard, telling Reese, a man who’d known her well, more than a boss needed to know.

  She’d had a rough night before the call because her son had been in pain.

  They were both already under professional care for the issue.

  Even with a bad night, she’d done her job well. Impeccably well. And other than the bags under her eyes, she was perfectly contained and looking him in the eye. As her boss, that should be all that concerned him.

  “What does he do when he’s trying to ‘get out’?” He swore silently even as he asked the question.

  Chin up, she looked right at him, reminding him for a second of her son. “Last night he was trying to pull the curtains off the rod. After first attempting to break through the bars on the windows.”

  It was almost like she was trying to shock him.

  It was working.

  “You have to put bars on your windows?”

  “They came that way. If they hadn’t, I’d have had to live on the ground floor.”

  “He doesn’t ever try anything as simple as going out the front door?”

  “Before we moved in, I had a dead bolt installed that is keyed from the inside as well as the outside,” she said. And then added, “But oddly enough, no, he’s never tried to go out the front door.”

  “He’s a little kid,” Reese said. And then wondered if he’d sounded insulting. “He can’t be more than seventy pounds,” he added.

  “You wouldn’t know it when he’s sleepwalking. It took all my strength to keep hold of the curtain so he didn’t pull the rod down and hurt himself.”

  He had a feeling it hadn’t been the first time. She’d imparted the news so nonchalantly.

  He wanted to do something.

  To change her circumstances.

  To make a difference.

  He was her boss.

  It wasn’t his place.

  He didn’t want to take that place.

  Ever. Again.

  So...he stood. Nodded. Reminded himself that she was getting professional help. That she didn’t need him. Told her that if she ever needed anything, to give him a call. Said that even though the bruise looked small and low enough, he thought she should get the eye checked, just in case.

  He told her she’d done a great job the night before and that he was very pleased with her work at the station. He even went so far as to tell her he was glad that she’d come to work for them.

  And then he ushered her out.

  Just as he’d have done with any other employee.

  Though he didn’t normally feel half sick for the rest of the day with any other employee. Normally, he went on with his next task and didn’t look back.

  Reese looked back all evening long, feeling queasy.

  That night, as he lay in bed, he wanted to call her. Just to make sure she was getting a good night’s rest.

  The ludicrousness of the thought occurred to him almost immediately.

  He wondered about taking a nice long vacation.

  CHAPTER TEN

  OF COURSE FAYE had the dream again on Thursday
night. It was never exactly the same. That would be too easy—easier to get used to, easier to ignore.

  Instead, Reese would appear in different ways. At different times. In the dream on Thursday night, she’d been at the beach alone. She was happy, though. Anticipating something just around the corner, an event coming up or someone walking up the beach. She didn’t know. It was dark, the sand lit by moonlight, but there was no sense of danger. Fear didn’t exist. A gentle breeze blew and the colorful sundress she was wearing swirled against her calves. Almost like she was dancing with the waves.

  And out of the water came Reese. Dripping wet and completely naked. She stood there, watching him. Knowing.

  Just knowing.

  And then she’d woken up—crying again.

  And not knowing a damned thing.

  The dream wasn’t why she met with Sara on Friday morning. She was there for her weekly meeting about Elliott, sitting with Sara on the couch in the counselor’s small office.

  Sara and Lila had full say where Elliott was concerned during the hours he was at the Stand. She’d signed paperwork accordingly. They could act on his behalf, make decisions on his behalf regarding his physical and emotional care. When something big happened, like the fire her son had set in the trash can, she was informed right away.

  Everything else waited for these weekly sessions, which were usually on Friday mornings after she dropped Elliott off.

  She’d worn one of her favorite summer dresses for the meeting. Calf length, tie-dyed cotton. Maybe because of how she’d felt in her dream, being a young woman on the beach knowing no fear.

  Sara, in white linen capri pants and a black-and-white, short-sleeved blouse, brought her usual calm to the room.

  In her quiet tone, she told Faye about Elliott’s schoolwork. He’d done everything he’d been asked to do, read an extra book and was getting good grades.

  “His attitude with his teacher and with the rest of the staff here has been impeccable, if you don’t count the fact that he refuses to engage in any kind of casual or personal conversation,” Sara added. “He’s eating well, though he has his definite dislikes.”

  “He told me you had hot dogs one day this week.”

  “They had a picnic in the trees beyond the Garden of Renewal,” Sara said. “There were hamburgers, too, so he had plenty to eat...”