by Shyla Colt
“What happened?” John and Brian ask as John relieves me of Ralph. I stumble.
“The last room we checked had a flashover that blew out the windows and caused a backdraft. It blew us right into a wall.”
“Are you feeling okay?” Brian asks.
“I think I have a concussion. I’m dizzy.”
“Let’s get them out,” John says. I’m vaguely aware of the call into the others for us as we’re led outside. I’m guided to the ambulance waiting below. I start to remove my gear, and the shakes begin when my adrenaline crashes. A headache sets in. I wince. Closing my eyes against the pain, I’m thrown off balance. The voices fade as I loose conscious momentarily. I’m helped out of my mask and oxygen tank and placed on a gurney in the blink of an eye. I rest my head against the small pillow and breathe in the oxygen they have hooked up to my nostrils. I struggle to stay cognizant as I’m poked, prodded, and asked basic questions. The flashlight shone into my eyes is painfully bright. I squint against its power.
The wail of the siren is like a drill bit to my skull. My body protests every single bump in the road. It’s going to be a long night.
Hours later, I’m sitting up in bed half asleep when the door burst opens, and Noble walks into my room. I know she came a soon as she heard because she’s still in black flannel pajamas pants and sheepskin house slippers. Her face is a mask of fear and pain. She looks like she’s seen a ghost. In many ways, she has. She approaches the bed slowly.
“Hey. I’m okay.” She looks up at me, unseeing. Her trembling hands frame my face. She rests her forehead against mine.
“I have a mild concussion, exhaustion, and muscle strain. I’ll remain here for observations for a twenty-four hour period. Then I’m gone.”
Her shoulders shake. Her lack of speech frightens me. “Say something, baby.”
“You could have died,” she croaks.
I close my eyes. “But I didn’t even come close.”
“This time.”
My stomach aches. “Don’t do this, Noble,” I whisper.
“Do what?”
“Pull away now. We’ve made so much progress.”
“Do you know what it’s like to get a call in the middle of the night telling you your significant other has been hurt and is in the hospital? Who knows how long you would’ve been in here before I knew if it wasn’t for Banks.”
“Hey. We take care of our own.”
She shoves her fist into her mouth and shakes her head. I can see her deteriorating in front of my face. “I love you.”
My heart soars. “I love you, too.”
“But I don’t know if I can do this. Who knows how many more calls there will be and when it’ll be the one everyone dreads.”
“After everything, you’ve decided to remain a princess in an ivory tower cut off from the rest of the world?”
“I don’t know.” Her shrill voice makes me flinch. “I wanted to see that you were okay.”
“Before you dumped me?”
“You don’t understand.”
“We all lost Jo-Jo, Noble. Mind you, I didn’t say forget him but move forward with the rest of our lives. Because unlike him we’re still among the living. I’m not going to try to tell you what you should do. That’s never been my style. But I promise you, you’ll regret it if you leave like this.”
“I can’t.”
“No, you won’t. There’s a difference in the two.”
Her eyes fill with tears. I ignore her emotional display. “We are good together. What we have is rare and real, and I would never give it up so easily.”
“We’re two different people. We always have been.” She says dejectedly.
“You’re scared, and you’re running. You can’t keep that up forever.” I grip the bed rails and force myself to remain calm.
“No, I’m protecting myself.”
“You don’t even believe that. I can hear the panic in your voice. You’re letting it rule you again.”
“It’s all I know how to do.” Her voice cracks.
“I spent the past few months showing you how much you’re capable of, Noble. Remember that.”
She steps back from the bed as if I have the plague. “I-I have to go. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Still shell-shocked, she walks away in a daze. I want to call her back. Anger and pride won’t let me. I clench my jaw shut and ball my fists. How could she do this to us? I exhale and let my head fall back onto the pillow. I was foolish to try. I knew the risks. She told me herself. I hear her mother’s voice in my head. I’m sorry, Mama Schaffer. I couldn’t get through to her. Dejected, I let the concussion distort my perception. Right now, I don’t want to think.
***
“Are you sure you’re okay to be alone? Maybe you should call Noble over to stay a few days,” my mom says. Concern darkens her cornflower blue eyes.
“No,” I snap. My dad gives me a warning look.
My mother flinches. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m just … tired. I’ll be fine. You heard the doc yourself. I’m cleared for being home solo. It’s bad enough I have to take a week off work.”
“You gave us a scare, big brother, could you not rush right back into a fiery inferno again?” Bailey asks.
I kiss my little sister’s forehead. “I couldn’t if I wanted to now.” They sprung me from the hospital, and now we’re seated on the couch in my living room.
“Don’t harass him, honey. He knows what he needs, Right, son?” Dad asks.
“Right, Pop.” I give him a weak smile.
“Well, your sister and I are going to run to the grocery store. We’ll cook a few things here for you to live off while you recuperate.”
“Thank you.” I feign pleasantness I don’t feel until they leave the house.
“You want to tell me what’s going on with you, son? You aren’t your usual self. And don’t insult me by pointing out the obvious. This is outside of your adventure in a burning building and the concussion.” My father has always been able to see past a farce.
The words spill out like rice from a bag with a hole. “Noble and I have been seeing each other as more than friends, and it was going really well until this happened.”
He sighs. “It reminded her of her brother?”
“Yes, sir. She freaked out a little at the hospital and said she wasn’t sure if she could do this.”
“I think it’s understandable. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be upset or disappointed, but it’s easy to see her point of view, too. Have you talked to her since then?”
“No,” I grumble. “I’m not going to chase her, Dad.”
“That’s a good thing. It sounds like she needs time to sort her emotions out.” His gentle voice is soothing. It makes it impossible to cling to my anger.
I grunt. “I hate waiting in limbo, you know?”
“I do.”
“Pop, I really think she’s the one. I’ve never felt this way about a woman before.”
“Then you have to be prepared to forgive and move forward. That’s the secret to a long-lasting relationship. Someone is always going to make mistakes, speak out of turn, and hurt the other person at some point. It’s how you bounce back from those things that matter.”
“It’s not easy to do.”
“No, it certainly isn’t. Your mother and I still struggle with it at times. Tell me why you think she’s the one. I’ve seen the two of you together. I know you get along, and I don’t need to state the obvious and tell you she’s easy on the eyes.” He smiles.
“She’s smart, funny, and when she’s with me, I feel special. It sounds cheesy when I phrase it that way. She opens up in a way I know she doesn’t with anyone else. She had a rough childhood and trust doesn’t come easily to her.”
“But she trusts you?” he asks.
I nod sheepishly. “Yeah, and that’s pretty amazing.”
Dad smiles. “It is. You think this spat is a bump in the road?”
“I hope so.” I whisper
. It’s hard to admit I’m not sure what this means for us.
“Tell me what your plan is if she doesn’t come around on her own.”
“I’m going to go get her.”
He chuckles. “Oh, yeah. You got it bad.”
“She’s worth fighting for. I think I forgot that when I was busy being butthurt.”
“You have every right to feel that way. Once you two smooth things over you’ll have to do some serious talking about what you expect from one another, what’s acceptable and what’s not.” I nod my head, taking his advice to heart. My mother and father are happy for a couple who’ve been together for nearly forty years.
“You scared us, kiddo. When we got the call, our minds immediately went to the worst. I can sympathize with your Noble. It’s not easy to love a first responder. I want you to remember that when you work things out. It takes a special person to be a first responder, and an equally special person to love one. I adore Noble. She fits in well with the family, keeps you on your toes, and has her own thing going on. Just be sure you can mesh your lives and belief systems together. It’s important.”
“I hear you, Pop.”
“Good. Now how are you really?” He narrows his eyes.
“I’m fine. A concussion is nothing in this line of work. I was lucky.”
My father nods his head, looking satisfied. “Good. Try not to freak us out for a while if you can, okay?”
“I’ll do my best. Being laid up isn’t a barrel of monkeys for me either.” I grimace.
“You’ve always been the type who needs to constantly be doing something. Drove your mother and I crazy trying to keep your brain and hands occupied. The saying idle hands are the devil’s workshop was true for you.”
“I couldn’t have been that bad.”
“Uh huh. Why do you think there are five years between you and your sister? We had to forget before we’d try again.”
I laugh.
“Let’s see what’s on the television today. We’ve had enough of the serious stuff for a bit.”
As he always has, he’s lightened my load with words of wisdom and lifted my spirits. If I grow to be half the man my father is, I’ll be doing good.
Chapter Six
Noble
“You’re a pitiful sight. You haven’t moved a muscle to do more than go to work and come home.”
I slowly focus on my mother and shrug. I stab my spoon into my pint of cookies and cream and bring the sweet treat up to my mouth. I look down at the worn red flannel pants and faded high school T-shirt. Go Panthers.
“Newsflash. You don’t get to sit here mooning like you didn’t put yourself in this predicament.” My mother’s tongue has always been sharp. Right now, it’s flaying me alive.
“Whose side are you on?” I ask, upset that she’s not supporting me.
“The right one. There’s nothing that man wouldn’t do for you. He has a scare, and you run? I taught you better than that.”
“You taught me to be self-sufficient.”
“At the expense of others?” She arches a brow.
“For my own self-preservation? Yes. He’s fine.”
“Not if he’s anything like you,” she says sadly.
“I didn’t do this to be mean.” I protest.
“No, I know you didn’t. Help me understand.”
“I have to protect what’s left of my heart.”
“By ignoring your other half?”
“Mother …”
“No, Noble. I can’t sit here and watch you make the worst mistake of your life. I know your brother’s death rocked us. It took me longer to get back up than it should’ve. I left you out in a lurch. I was an awful example then, and with your father.”
“Mom. It's not your fault he was a douche nozzle.”
“No. But it was my choice to stay. Do you know why it took me so long to let go and start over fresh?”
I shook my head.
“Fear. It paralyzed me and kept in a place that didn’t make me happy. That’s why I always let him come back. It wasn’t good for me or my children, but I couldn’t shake him or leave and branch out on my own. Then I figured out a secret. I was worth it. My children deserved it. I was wrong. Our past shapes us into the people we are. It doesn’t define us. Not unless I allow it to. You’re still hurting from Jo-Jo’s death. It was unexpected and tragic. We always will be devastated to an extent. That doesn’t mean we can allow his death to cripple us. Baby girl, you’re blaming Zeke for things beyond his control. He’s not your brother. There’s no telling when or how his life story will end. You think you’re hurting now, leave things as they are and wait a couple more months until it’s too late to easily fix what’s been broken. He’s more than a romantic interest. He’s your best friend. Quitting him cold turkey isn’t going to be that easy.”
“I have to try.”
“Why? Explain to me what purpose it solves.”
“I …” My excuses feel flimsy. I’m miserable without Zeke. Life has returned to being dull and gray. Guilt gnaws at me daily. I left him at a time when he needed me most.
“Go to him. He’s stuck at home for a few more days before he’s cleared to go back to work.”
“You’ve been talking to him?”
“Yes.” She stares me down, willing me to respond to her comment.
Shamed, I look down at my ice cream. “What would I even say?”
“How about you start with I’m sorry?” The irritation and disappointment coming from her is a hard pill to swallow. “Tonight.”
“It’s late.”
“I baked him fresh banana bread. I planned to deliver it tomorrow, but this can be a peace offering. You want an icebreaker? I gave it to you.”
“Are you serious about wanting me to go tonight?”
“I’m done watching you backslide. When I was at my lowest, you got me up and moving about, because to do anything else wasn’t an option. I’m returning the favor. Put down the junk food, and take a leap of faith. See with your heart instead of your brain.”
Her words penetrate the wall I put up. “I really screwed up with this one, didn’t I?” I whisper. I think of the hurt in his eyes and the disbelief that painted his face in the hospital. I move from the couch.
“I’ll wrap up the bread, while you get ready,” my mom says.
I go the bathroom, wash my face, brush my teeth, and head to the living room before I can talk myself out of what I’m about to do. I grab my coat, turn on my car to warm up, and move to the kitchen.
“Here’s the bread.” Mom hands me a loaf wrapped in butcher paper. “Remember, he cares about you just as much as you do him.”
Holding the package to my chest, I grab my purse off the counter, and head out into the cold. The car ride is deathly silent. My head is a jumble of things I want to say and replaying that night in vivid detail.
I’m raw and uncertain when I pull up in front of his house. Will he be willing to listen to me? Can I blame him if he’s not? I place a hand on my rioting stomach. Putting the car in park, I kill the engine and climb out. Waiting never makes a problem easier to deal with. I climb from the car, clutching the loaf of bread like a lifeline as I hitch my purse onto my shoulder, walk the few feet to the front door, and knock.
The door swings open and he peers down at me, stunned. “Noble.”
“Can I come in?” I ask softly.
“Yeah.” He walks back, and I step inside.
I shove the bread into his chest. “Banana bread from my mom.”
“Is that the only reason you’re here?” His voice is chilly.
“No. I came to say I’m sorry.”
“What for?” he asks cautiously.
“For being a jerk. I let fear blind me. It was all I could see. I shut down. I’ve been a miserable wreck without you. Everything you said that night was true, but I wasn’t ready to admit it yet. Not to myself and certainly not to you.” I swallow. “Looking at one’s flaws in the mirror and admitting to being wrong is no
easy task. I learned to protect myself at a young age. It’s been a driving goal, that’s shaped nearly every decision I’ve made as an adult. I thought if I was independent, self-reliant, and never let anyone get too deep, my heart would be safe. Then you came along and shattered every preconceived notion I had. You weren’t a part of my plan. I don’t think I realized people like you existed.”
“People like me?” He tilts his head.
“Who could care for me, and want me to be the best version of myself. Even if that meant challenging me and ruffling some feathers.”
“And what brought about this sudden epiphany?” He crosses his arms over his chest. My throat swells.
“Time to think and honest conversations with people I care about. When I got the call that night, I immediately thought the worst. I relived my experience with Jo-Jo all over again. It brought the worst night of my life rushing back. I was a basket case by the time I showed up at the hospital. My response to the over-stimulation was to shut down, so I could maintain some semblance of control. I should have been there for you. I don’t have an excuse for dropping the ball like that.”
“Yes, you should of.” He nods his head.
“Can you forgive me for it?” I shove my hands in the pockets of my pajama pants and watch him from beneath my eyelashes. Meeting his cold gaze is painful.
“I already have. But that doesn’t mean I can just forget.” I drop my head. “Why are you here?”
“Because I love you, and as scared as I am right now, it’s worse being without you. I’ll do whatever it takes to iron this out and make things work. I only ask that you don’t give up on me.”
“Whatever it takes to make things work? How do I know you’re not going to run again if things get too hard?”
“I know you won’t stand for it.”
“What about my heart, Noble? How can I be sure I won’t be hurt again?”
“I-I don’t know.” My voice warbles. “I can’t promise you I won’t mess up again. I do know I will continue to try to better myself and work on my issues. I’ll apply for that job, take more risks, and get some counseling to clear out the clutter in my head. I owe it to myself to do that regardless of your response.”