by Anthology
“I’d fantasize about you.” Every surprise that evening paled in comparison. Our mouths continued to discover, but my hands were on the true journey, caressing over the hills of her hips and building up to the swell of her tender breasts.
“What did you fantasize?” I teased as my hand took control and squeezed her ripe nipple, extending it to a sharp point against the silky material.
“You aren’t wearing a bra.” I swallowed hard as my mouth sucked at the tender skin of her neck. She didn’t respond in words, but the forward press of her body into my hand answered my call.
“I’d imagine you touching me.” Her breath against my ear sent a spark through me.
Holy fuck, I thought, as my other hand slipped lower on her, brushing over the delicate bone of her pubic area, searching for the tip of the high slit I noticed earlier in her dress. Finding my goal, I slipped under the material to discover she wasn’t wearing anything else.
Pulling back abruptly, my hand cupped her despite my surprise.
“You aren’t wearing any underwear?”
“I didn’t want lines,” she said, the coolness of her blue eyes melted into the softness of lake water.
“Were you expecting something to happen with your escort tonight?” I slipped a finger upward along her moist cavern, and sighed in unison with her. She sucked me forward, clenching around me.
“No,” she purred. “Until I saw it was you.”
My fingers worked quickly and she rocked, letting the fire build to an inferno before she crested then smoldered to aftershocks. She collapsed back against the cement wall and stared at me. Slipping out of her, I wasn’t finished. My mouth headed back for hers, tasting the addicting flavor of her. My fingers cinched her skirt slowly up her thighs while my excitement strained to be released. I needed another part of me inside her, allowing her to ignite over me.
Slowly, it came to me, that this wasn’t how I wanted to take her. I wasn’t opposed to wall sex, but having Adara Matherson for the first time wasn’t going to be in a stairwell. The tempo of our kisses lowered until I pulled back to rest my forehead against hers.
“What would it be like?” Her hushed voice was rough from heavy breaths.
“What would what be like?”
“If this isn’t a date, what would one with you be like?” Her voice was shy and my heart leapt.
“I wouldn’t cost five-thousand dollars,” I laughed until I noticed the hurt in her eyes under those pinching eyebrows. Kissing each one, I pulled back to look at her.
“Adara Matherson would you like to go on a real date with me?” My breath held as I awaited her rejection.
“Ash Flaughtery, I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter 8
Second Chances by Lisa Edward
Taking a deep breath, I counted to ten before climbing from my beat-up Honda and grabbing my duffle bag from the trunk. After three years of drifting through life like a lost soul, I couldn’t believe how good it felt to be on the right path, and this was most definitely the right path; I could feel it in my bones.
Having grown up with a dad who worked the ER as a doctor at Barnes Hospital, and a mom who nursed in the Burns unit, this was the only place I belonged. This was the best of both worlds in my opinion, because it combined the medical knowledge I’d grown up around and spent years honing, together with rubbing shoulders with St. Louis’ finest firefighters.
For as long as I could remember, my parents would come home from tiring double shifts and tell me stories of the bravery of the firefighters, the quick-thinking EMTs and the way they had saved people’s lives without a second thought for their own safety. I’d known then that this was where I wanted to serve. Not in the military or as a police officer, but as one of the courageous frontline medically trained firefighters, and Station 69 was just the place to start what I hoped would be a long career.
So why had it taken so long to get here, if this was what I’d always wanted? One simple answer: a girl. No, I’m not blaming her. We are in control of our own destiny, I firmly believe that, but losing the one person in your life you thought would be there forever can really fuck with your head. I was an idiot, probably still am and always will be, but I hope I’ve learned at least a little from my mistakes and won’t screw up again, should I ever be lucky enough to have another chance with that confusing beast called love.
“You just gonna stand there all day?” a gruff voice barked from over my left shoulder.
A shadow was cast as a man-mountain came to stand beside me. I was tall—six-foot three in bare feet—and played football all through school, so I was fairly built, but this guy was enormous and made me feel insignificant. But I squared my shoulders and stuck out my hand. “I’m Gus Reynolds. It’s my first day.”
The guy nodded, sizing me up. “I’m Ian, but everyone calls me The Hammer.” He took my hand, squeezing a little too tight, a smirk crossing his lips. I didn’t flinch, just stood my ground like I couldn’t feel the bones cracking. He seemed happy with that and released his grip. “Hmm, this way.”
After we walked through the door he kept going, but I stood for a moment to take it all in, from the huge shiny red trucks parked in their bays, to the rows of lockers that reminded me of a school corridor. The chief’s office was over to the side but I could see that he wasn’t there, so I shuffled my feet, contemplating what my next move should be.
“Hey, bud, you must be Gus. I’m Brennan, but you can call me B.” He stuck out his hand. This handshake was a little more welcoming than the previous one I’d just experienced. “Looks like you’ll be partnered with me today so I can show you the ropes.”
I immediately warmed to this guy. He had an open, friendly face with kind blue eyes and a head of thick hair to match my own.
My bag was dumped in a spare locker and I quickly pulled my uniform on. B showed me around the station—where the weights room was, the recreational area and the bunks. He had just started introducing me to the other guys when the alarm sounded and a voice blared over the loud speaker.
“Overturned vehicle with fuel spill. Requesting backup from all units on Highway 64/40. In need of emergency assistance.”
“We’re up, kid.” B slapped me on the back and pointed to one of the trucks. “Grab your gear and get on.”
There was no time to waste. The friendly banter of the other guys and relaxed atmosphere disintegrated as the men switched to business mode.
It took only a few minutes for everyone to suit up, then grab their gear from the bunker room and jump on the trucks. One engine had already left with its siren wailing, and ours wasn’t far behind.
“How far out is it?” I asked, checking the markers on the side of the road.
“’Bout twenty-five minutes.” B glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “Are you ready for this, kid?”
“Been ready my whole life.”
The scene was a fucking mess, like nothing I’d ever seen before, with a delivery truck on its side and half in a ditch, the back end blocked a lane of traffic. Trees lay splintered and fallen, cluttering the side of the road. The safety barrier broken and bent out of shape.
We pulled up behind the other engine and set up our hose. I was slower than the practiced hands of the other crew members, and I cursed myself for taking so damn long. The experienced firefighters were already on the job, foaming the fuel that poured from the tank while the police, who had arrived before us, questioned the driver.
One of the policemen ran to where we were positioning ourselves to assist in foaming the road. “Paramedics are on the way. Grab your medical kit.”
I ran back to the truck and pulled out the kit then ran over to where the driver and two policemen were standing. “Is he injured?” I asked as I reached the driver who looked dazed but otherwise unharmed.
“Not him,” the officer replied, and then pointed towards a cluster of fallen trees. “Over there.”
Holy fuck. On the opposite side of the road, hidden from view by d
ebris, was what I think was once a Mini Cooper but now looked ready for the scrap heap.
Running my hand through my thick, dirty blond hair, I wondered how anyone could have survived in that car.
A thump in my bicep made me look up. “This is what you signed up for,” B said with a wry grin.
I nodded and followed him over, bracing myself for the worst.
“What took you so long?” a no-nonsense voice asked. I could see from the uniform that it was a police officer whose head was poked through the broken window, as he tried to assess the injured driver.
“Newbie here.” B indicated to me. “What’ve we got?”
The officer stepped back from the wreckage. “Unconscious woman driver. We can’t get her out; there’s a tree branch that’s impaled her. We need the Jaws-of-Life and a miracle.”
“She’s alive,” I blurted, unable to believe it.
“Not for long if we don’t get her to hospital.”
How could anyone have survived that? The front of the vehicle was nonexistent; it had been pushed into the cabin of the car and at the same time, the tree she had hit that had eventually halted her out-of-control travels had speared its way inside.
We didn’t have the equipment. We’d thought it was a fire hazard and had come in a truck that was readily equipped to fight the impending fire from the fuel spill. “We need to wait for another crew with the tools,” B instructed. “I need to make a call.” He shifted his weight impatiently, waiting for someone on the other end of the phone to speak. He nodded, then looked up at me, his face grim. “Should be ten to fifteen minutes.”
“What do you need me to do in the meantime, B?” I felt totally useless. All my training hadn’t prepared me for this.
“Talk to her. Monitor her vital signs. Keep her alive.”
“Sure.” I drew a deep breath and tried to clear my head. “Do we know who she is? Any ID?”
The officer flipped open a black leather wallet. “She’s a local girl. Twenty-one-year-old Margaret McNally.”
“It’s Maggie.” I looked at B and swallowed down the bile that burned my throat. “She prefers Maggie, at least she used to . . . when we were together.” Maggie McNally had been the one that got away because I had let her. I’d dreamed of the day I would see her again, and now, as I looked at the wreckage, I would have given anything for that occasion not to have been me watching her fight for her life.
B nodded his understanding then slapped my back, his hand remaining on my shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “So go keep Maggie alive while I wait for the other crew and paramedics to arrive.”
The passenger door had already come off, whether by force or intervention, so it afforded us access to the vehicle. I folded my bulky frame and climbed into the crumpled car.
She looked just the same. Her freckled cheeks were pale; her auburn hair lay in loose, soft curls around her face. You could have mistaken her unconscious state for nothing more than sleep if not for the trickle of blood running from her nose and onto her top lip.
“Mag . . .” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat before tying again. “Maggie, can you hear me?”
No response. No movement.
“It’s Gus. Gus Reynolds.” I took her hand gently and squeezed it. “I’m here, Mags.”
My eyes blurred and I quickly cleared them with a pinch to the bridge of my nose. This wasn’t a happy reunion, this was my job, and I was here to try to save her life. Pulling the pen light from my pocket, I raised one eyelid to check her pupil. Only marginal response, but that was better than no response at all. Her pulse was slow and faint, but again, better than nothing at all. Her respiratory tract seemed to be working fine, but there was a hell of a lot of blood where the tree branch had gone in.
“I need gauze and towels,” I called to the police officer who was still standing nearby. “Stat!”
Repositioning myself to try to find some comfort in the crushed car, something caught my attention from the corner of my eye.
“Hey guys.” I sprung out of the car. “There’s a baby seat in the back. Where’s the baby?”
Three other crew members came sprinting over. The impact had pushed the front seats into the back. If there was a baby . . . I didn’t want to think about it. Instead, I tried to block off my emotions and in my head run through the manuals I’d memorized for this sort of situation.
We needed to pull the front passenger seat out. It was barely held in place after the impact and with the turn of a couple of bolts it should lift out without complaint. That would give us access to the back section of the cabin and any passenger who may be trapped.
The seat was out in five minutes. I’d never seen a group of guys work so well together; they were like a well-oiled machine. Next to come out was the baby seat, but there was no child.
I leaned back into the front. “Maggie, can you hear me?” I waited, but there was no response. “We need to know, was your baby in the car?”
The back window was still intact so if there had been another passenger, the baby would have to have still been confined to the cabin, but there was definitely no child in the car. I let go of the breath I’d been holding. Maybe she’d left the baby home with her husband? On instinct, I looked for her left hand, her ring finger. There was no wedding or engagement ring, so not husband—maybe boyfriend?
“Maggie, your baby’s safe.”
I checked her vitals again; there was no change. The towels I’d quickly packed around the entry wound had become seeped in blood within minutes. If help didn’t come soon, she would bleed out and I’d lose her all over again. Feeling totally helpless, all I could do was talk to her until the crew arrived to cut her free.
“I’ve thought a lot about what I would say if I ever saw you again.” I took her delicate hand in mine. It was as soft as I had remembered, but so cold. “The first thing is . . .” I took a deep, rattling breath. “I’m sorry, Maggie. I’m so sorry. I should never have let you go so easily. I knew at the time I should have fought for you, but I let my stupid pride get in the way. I figured if you wanted to leave and go off to college then you couldn’t really love me, so I let you walk.” I squeezed her fragile hand. “But I was so wrong because I let you believe that I didn’t love you either, and that wasn’t the case.”
B squatted down in the open doorway. “How is she, kid?”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I gave him a confident nod. “Good. I’m just monitoring. Her vitals haven’t changed. Still slow, weak pulse. There’s a lot of bleeding around the wound, but it seems to have stabilized. She hasn’t regained consciousness.”
His face softened. He studied my face for a moment. “And how are you?” His eyes took in the hand I was still holding, my thumb subconsciously stroking her knuckles.
“This is what I signed up for, right?”
With a slap on the shoulder he was gone, striding back towards the road to wait for the equipment that would save Maggie’s life.
We were alone again. I didn’t know if she could hear a word I was saying, but if this was the last time I would ever see her alive, then I needed to say everything I should have said three years ago.
“I’ve missed you, Maggie. Not a day goes by that I don’t see something or hear a song and think of you. I heard that 5 Seconds of Summer song that you used to love the other day. Do you still love that song, Maggie?” I couldn’t help smiling, my eyes misting over, as memories of Maggie dancing around the living room, singing at the top of her lunges filled my mind. “We had so many good times, didn’t we?” I lightly kissed her knuckles. “It was the best four years of my life. Everyone thought we’d be together forever—the perfect couple. But I screwed it all up. I was such a dick, and I’m so sorry I let you go without telling you how I felt and how important you were to me.”
Heavy footsteps approaching made me compose myself. I’d never live it down if on my first call-out I was caught with tears in my eyes over an accident victim.
The Jaws-of-Life cut the c
ar away, piece by small piece, until the paramedics could get into the area with ease. Now for the hard part—we needed to cut the branch from the tree so we could move her onto a stretcher and carry her up to the ambulance. My first instinct was to pull the branch out, to free Maggie from the carnage, but my medical training told me that to remove the branch now would mean certain death.
“You’re going to be fine, Maggie,” I told her as she was lifted onto the stretcher. There was no movement—no acknowledgement. “If you can her me, Maggie, I love you . . . Please keep fighting.”
The squeak of my rubber soles on the linoleum made me cringe with every step. The guys had told me that it was okay to feel a sense of responsibility for someone you had tended to, and to follow up in the hospital on his or her progress. But I wasn’t here out of a sense of responsibility, I was here because after everything that had happened between Maggie and I, I was still in love with her.
I knocked softly on her door, unsure whether she was resting or even in there. A sweet voice replied “come in,” and my heart melted. I hadn’t heard that voice in three years, but I would recognize it anywhere.
The room was full of flower arrangements and baskets of fruit. I looked down at the meagre bunch of daisies in my hand and wished I could quickly throw them in the trash before she saw them.
“Hi, Maggie, I . . .”
Standing by the side of the bed, previously obscured by a curtain, was a man who looked to be in his forties, holding a toddler.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I continued, eyeing the little boy who turned a toy firetruck over in his hands. “I just wanted to see how you were doing and give you these.” I held out the pathetic-looking flowers. “They used to be . . .”
“My favorites.” She beamed at me. “They still are.” Our eyes locked for what felt like days. The green of hers, though a little dull after the ordeal she’d just been through, were still a deep emerald and just as expressive as they’d been on the last day I had seen them. They had been filled with tears as she’d said goodbye, and I’d brushed her aside as if it meant nothing to me, but now, after everything she had been through, they were smiling.