by Kacey Shea
Oh, shit.
“Ma’am, please keep the mask over your face.” The medic with the sad mustache directs as the other EMT monitors my blood pressure. An occasional bump in the paved road jostles my body from where I’m strapped at the waist on the gurney. At least they’ve adjusted it so I can sit up for my ride to the hospital. Given me back a few ounces of my stolen pride. I’m fine. I’m lucky. I’ve been assured several times that my precautionary visit to the hospital is protocol for someone found unconscious in a burning home.
I hate firemen. More accurately I hate Chase. And for that cocksucker I stupidly put my life in danger. All for what? So I didn’t have my nipples shooting him down in my driveway! God help me, I look stupid as fuck now. I almost killed myself over the support of an underwire. What has my life come to?
I’m sad, pathetic, and now homeless.
There’s nothing more humiliating than waking up and gazing into the melted chocolate I love, only to remember he’s not mine when the corners of his lips pull into a frown. Disappointment was written across his beautiful scruffy face. He didn’t say a thing, just watched as Ash continued to monitor my pulse, ask how I felt, and offered me water until the ambulance arrived. All I could do was answer with a nod. I’m sure he assumed it was shock, but really my state of muddled reaction had everything to do with Chase’s disinterested glare. My eyes sting with the memory.
I used to be happy. I used to love firemen. Maybe I could transfer my appreciation to a new community helper. I glance up to find Mr. Pulse Reader checking out my rack. My eyes travel down his uniform and a frown pulls at my lips from beneath the oxygen mask.
Disappointing.
Even if I squint, the EMT uniform does nothing for me. Fuck. I don’t need a new obsession. I need to go home. If there’s even much of one left.
“My phone?” I croak from behind the clear plastic and the medic nods, pointing to a bag that must be filled with my personal effects.
“When we get checked in at the hospital I’ll hand it over. Almost there. Vitals are good and you probably won’t be there more than a few hours. Pretty standard with head injuries. You sure are lucky the truck arrived when it did.”
“Yeah.” Lady luck over here. If I played the lottery tonight, that would likely go up in flames, too.
I hate this day.
In this horrible hospital bed—under observation because they’re worried I might have a concussion—all I want is to go home. Except I don’t have a house to go home to. With my place severely torched and in need of serious repairs, I’ll need a place to crash for at least a month.
To top it off, the fire to my humble abode is under investigation even though they’re ruling out arson.
Jill’s my inside ally, graciously setting aside her dislike of Cam to text him for information and forward it my way. Apparently, Chase is telling everyone he suspects the fire was a failed suicide attempt—my cry for help. He must think I’m pathetic. Fuck him.
God, why didn’t I just stay out of the house and wait for help like a normal person.
Alicia’s my hands and feet. She’s posted at the scene and keeping an eye on my belongings until she’s allowed inside to collect them. She’s communicating with the police on my behalf. More likely flirting shamelessly, but no matter. At least with her there I won’t have to add burglary to the shit-for-life past two months of obstacles. I’m thankful for my girls and the fact they dropped everything as soon as I called.
“Callie! Dear!” I glance up from my phone screen and Kiki swoops into my hospital room, her giant suitcase purse on one arm and a bouquet of wildflowers in the other. She sets the arrangement on my bedside table with a satisfied nod and then envelops me in a crushing hug. Damn, I didn’t know the woman was this strong.
She pulls back and looks me up and down, nodding with approval at what she finds. “Your home.” Her lips pull into a tight line. “It’s not good, dear.”
“I know.” I exhale a deep sigh. “Alicia’s there now. She’s says she’ll text me pictures as soon as she’s allowed inside.”
“What happened?” She sits in the chair with a deep sigh.
“I don’t know. Normal morning. I was working at my kitchen table. I smelled smoke and got out.”
“Out? I thought you were inside?”
Great. If the news has reached Kiki I’m sure everyone and their mother knows. “I forgot something. Tripped and hit my head inside. Stupid, I know.”
“You gave me quite the scare, but all’s well that ends well.” She pats my hand.
“Except that I’m homeless.” I rest my head back on the cushion and shut my eyes. I’m trying not to freak out. The thought of my perfectly organized house in a state of disaster speeds my heart with every worry. I need to clean something. Stat.
“You’ll come stay with me.”
My lids open to find Kiki’s don’t-mess-with-me glare. Her unwavering protectiveness. Care for me. Kindness. It’s too much. Moisture gathers and leaks from the corner of my eyes.
“No tears. We women have to stick together.” She pats my hand again.
“Thank you,” I mouth, more or less inaudibly.
“Knock knock.” A deep voice sounds from behind the door and it swings open to reveal a now familiar face.
“What are you doing here, Ash?” I sit up straight and brush the remaining evidence of tears from my face.
“Checking on you.” He glances from me to nod at Kiki. “Good to see you again, ma’am. Cat staying out of the tree?”
“For now,” she says. “Though if my pussy needs you I’ll be sure and give a holler.”
Ash’s eyes widen, Kiki bursts into her cackling laughter, and I can’t help but surrender a little grin. He looks really worried for a second. The room quiets into an awkward silence and Ash just stands there, hands in pockets, meeting my stare.
“Well, thanks for your concern, but I’m fine,” I say in an attempt to dismiss his presence.
His lips pull into a wide smile while his eyes dance with the humor of an untold joke from beneath the brim of his ball cap.
“Are you fine? Really?”
Kiki stands from her chair. “I’ll go find some coffee.
“Wait!” I try to stop her, but for someone who needs help with her yard she sure can exit a room fast.
Ash pulls her vacated chair across the floor and flips it so we’re facing each other when he sits. “I’m worried about you, Callie.”
His words throw me off guard. Of all the things I’d guess him to say, that isn’t one of them. I straighten my shoulders and cross my arms over my chest. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know I don’t, but don’t you think it’s strange how we keep running into each other?”
“Well, I don’t want to run into you! I’m trying to stay clear of you!”
“Then maybe you should do a better job steering clear of fire? For someone who’s trying to avoid me, you have a funny way of showing it.” He laughs. “I’ve seen you more times my first week with this station then I’ve seen my dad all year!”
Shit! I scramble for my phone. My dad! I haven’t told him anything. Not that he would know or find out, but what if he did? I don’t want him to worry. I need to hear his voice. Fear creeps into my limbs as I pat the bed frantically and then untangle my cell from the hospital bedding. My fingers shake and I unlock the screen. “Warning low battery” pops up and I dismiss the fact it’s barely holding on at three percent. I swipe across the screen, find Dad in my favorites, and click on his name. I bring it to my ear to ring once before it goes silent. Shit!
Tears gather in my eyes and I try to blink them back as disappointment, failure, and sadness fill my heart. I just wanted to hear his voice.
“Callie?” Ash places his hand over my trembling one. I don’t look up at him. I don’t want to cry in front of him, but it’s been a really hard day, following up a really difficult week, months and shit—just a really hard time. Tears slide from my eyes, off my cheeks an
d nose, and form a pattern of wet drops across my lap.
He turns my hand over, palm up and places his own cell phone inside.
I glance up and meet his eyes, the hazel more green than amber. Steady and sure.
“You looked like you needed to make an important call.”
I nod. I don’t trust myself to speak without sounding a blubbery mess.
“I’ll just step outside. Take as long as you need.”
“Why are you being so nice?” I’m both shocked and touched by his actions, but also I want to know his angle. I’m not naïve.
“You seem like you could use a friend.” He shrugs as if it’s that simple. I search his gaze for a crack, an agenda, something, but all I find is Ash. He must think I’m a loser. Pathetic. That’s why he’s being this way.
“I have friends.” I aim to keep the hurt from my voice and mask it with anger.
He smiles, shakes his head, and chuckles softly. “I’m sure you do. But maybe you need a friend in me. Another person in your corner?”
No. Don’t fall for it, Callie. You know they’re all the same. Not another fireman. I can’t do it. “I don’t want to be friends so stop being so friendly. I don’t even want to look at you.”
His eyes widen and his mouth drops open. “Wow! That’s really harsh.” He has the audacity to look hurt by my words. Whatever. He doesn’t know me. What I’ve been through, I owe him nothing. Still, I’m not sure if it’s the head injury or what, but I feel a slight sense of remorse for biting his head off when he came all the way here to check on me.
“Yeah, well, sorry. I’ve been burned recently and I’m not looking to do it again anytime soon,” I mutter, and finger the hem of my shirt.
“That’s what I heard,” he says, and my head snaps up to meet his inquisitive gaze. Damn, he has nice eyes. I’m glad they’re hazel, nothing like chocolate.
“Yeah? What else have you heard about me?”
“A few of the guys think you’re a hose chaser.” His lips quirk.
“What?”
“A woman who’s obsessed with snagging firemen.”
“Oh. Well. That may have been, but you can inform them I’m totally over the profession and all who pursue it.” And I am. So over it.
“Oh.” He meets my stare again.
“What do you think about me?” I glance down at my hands and run my fingers along the edge of his cell.
“I think you’re more of a pyro.” He chuckles.
I laugh without humor and shake my head. “I think my days of playing with fire are behind me now.” Just thinking about how close I came to being burnt alive in my own damn room . . . God, all over a bra. I shudder. Stupid move, Callie.
“Well, for your safety, I hope that’s true. I’ll let you make that call. It was nice talking with you, Callie. I’ll just be in the hall if you need me.” Ash stands and walks toward the door. He’s been nice, sweet, not manipulative at all. Perhaps I misjudged him.
“I’m sorry,” I say. He turns, swings the door wide and props it open with his body. God, he’s built—his chest anyway—and his frame fills the entire doorway.
“What for?”
“I’m sorry for being rude. And for calling you an asshole. Thanks for checking on me. You didn’t have to do that. I know I’m not good company.”
He nods, his expression somber. “We all have bad days.” He exits and allows the door to click shut behind him.
I hate disorganized moves.
I’ve only moved a handful of times, but it’s always been planned, calculated, systematic. Everything should have a place, purpose, and need. But I know, as Alicia and Jill haul box after box of my belongings into Kiki’s house, that it’s all a mess. How could it not be? There’s a huge gaping charred hole in the southwest corner of my house!
I try to ignore the chaos and focus on the fact my friends are giving up their Thursday evening to help me relocate without question or argument. I would also like to assist. I’m fine, maybe a little shaken from the day’s events, but no one is letting me carry a thing even though I was cleared by the hospital and have zero symptoms of a concussion.
“Girls, just put everything in the back corner for now. Oh! Watch the canvases!” Kiki directs my friends and I’m overwhelmed by her hospitality. Kiki’s basement at one time served as her studio. She doesn’t paint anymore and I haven’t asked why, but it’s a nice space down here. A couch with a pullout bed, room to store my stuff, and my own bathroom. And she won’t take my money, so I won’t be in the poorhouse. Well, I won’t be as long as my insurance covers all the home repairs. I’ll be on the phone first thing tomorrow morning.
“Shit, Callie, you have a lot of stuff!” Jill curses and drops a box marked bedding on the floor. It rattles, the sound of metal meeting metal, and I cringe at the notion that there’s probably kitchen goods mixed with linens.
“Last one!” Alicia smiles and adds her box to the wall of others. “I say we did a kickass moving job for being on the fly!”
“Good friends you have, dear.” Kiki pats my arm. “Now, this old broad is turning in for the night. Good night, ladies.”
“Good night!” we call after her retreating steps. I creep closer to the wall of packing boxes.
Jill catches me in the act. “Don’t you dare!” she snaps.
“What?” I ask innocently enough.
“We know you want to fix this.” She motions to the wall of shameful disaster with a swoop.
“Did you just Vanna White that?” I scrunch my nose and cringe, and a shiver works its way down my spine just by envisioning everything that needs to be put back in place.
“It’s gonna keep you up, isn’t it?” Alicia says with understanding and maybe a little concern in her voice. She studies my face and then adds, “Come on, Jilly. Let’s empty and repack all of this.” She dances over and does the sweepy thing to the boxes.
“No, no, you’ve done enough! Both of you! It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” I won’t, but they don’t need to know. Besides, it’s late, already after ten, and they both have to work tomorrow.
“Get your fucking colored sticky notes.” Jill sighs and rolls her eyes. “We aren’t leaving until it’s done.”
“I’ll go brew a pot of coffee!” Alicia calls over her shoulder and jogs up the stairs.
“Which one of these contains the magic sticky notes?” Jill teases as she unstacks the boxes. We make a game plan, laying the cartons in rows to empty and repack under my organizational direction. It’s quick work with their help, and I’m able to pull out the clothing and personal items I’ll need in the coming weeks. Plus, it gives us a chance to talk and catch up.
“So, I’m done with my outpatient program,” Alicia offers when she returns. She hasn’t mentioned much of her rehab program until now. We offer our congratulations. I’m not sure if that’s the appropriate response but Alicia smiles so it works.
“What does that mean for you?” Jill asks.
“I’m done with my group sessions. I’ll continue my one-on-one counseling—my choice—because I’m still working through some stuff and it gives me clarity as to why I was getting lost in a bottle of merlot more often than not. All shit with my family.” She laughs and rolls her eyes. “I’m strongly encouraged to continue AA meetings. So, we’ll see how that goes.”
“I’m really proud of you.” Jill stands up and hugs her from behind before restacking one of the newly re-packed containers.
“Love you.” Alicia smiles at her and then meets my stare across the minefield of boxes we’ve set up. “I love you too, Callie. And I’m so sorry about that night. I’m so thankful you’ve given me another chance at our friendship, because if I’m being honest, I don’t think I could do that—if roles were reversed.”
I nod and smile, a genuine one, because I really have forgiven Alicia, and things are beginning to feel good again between us. Not strained or forced. “I love you, too.”
“So let’s talk about something else.” Alicia hands me a
stack of dishtowels, and then tosses a pair of socks at Jill. “What’s up with you and Cam the Man?”
“What?” Jill busies herself with a stack of junk mail.
“Jilly . . .” Alicia chides.
What? “Wait, I thought you and Cam were done. Today, you said you were only talking to him to get inside information—”
“I lied! Okay, there. I’m sorry. I don’t want to like him.”
“Why did you even break up in the first place?” I ask.
“Because he wanted to go public with our relationship. And, I don’t know, I got cold feet. It seemed like such a bold move for two people who were just fucking for fun. Plus, that whole thing with his brother and you—”
“Jill, you didn’t break up with him because of what happened at the bar? Because Cam had nothing to do with that.” I shake my head.
“No. Yes. Kind of. It’s not the only reason I broke things off.”
“I’m sensing a but here.” Alicia leans forward and rests her chin on her knees.
“We got in a big argument. That was the night you picked me up at Benny’s. And the failed control burn,” Jill explains.
“There was nothing controlled about that.” I roll my eyes and they laugh.
“What did you fight about?” Alicia asks.
Jill looks between me and Alicia a few times. Her lips pull in a tight line.
“Oh, for the love of God, just spit it out already!” Alicia tosses a pair of socks at Jill.
“Okay, fine. But Callie, I don’t want to upset you.”
“Just say it. Really, can today get any worse? Besides, I have you to keep me from going crazy.” I motion toward the almost completely re-organized and re-packed boxes.
“So, the fight. It was because after you and Chase split and I was sleeping over at Cam’s . . .” She rolls her eyes. “This is going to sound stupid, but you know how Chase and Cam are step brothers? And how Tiff is Cam’s sister but only related to Chase by marriage?”
“What the f—?” I almost drop the stack of books I’m sorting.