Night Call

by Radclyffe

  “What?” Jett demanded.

  “Two helicopters…” Linda gripped the doorjamb as if to steady herself. “Two helicopters collided—”

  Jett grabbed Linda’s arm. “Ours?”

  “We’re not sure. Everything’s so garbled. It’s crazy. God, Jett…”

  “I’ll be right there. See if you can raise our aircraft.”

  Linda nodded wordlessly and hurried away.

  Jett tossed the towel aside and pulled on a shirt and pants over her still-wet skin. She kicked into her boots without bothering to put on socks. She was through her door and into the lounge in under twenty seconds. Linda, Juan, Mike, and two flight nurses were crowded around the radio. All Jett could hear were voices talking over one another, shouting names and call numbers of aircraft.

  “Who do we have out?” Jett called loudly.

  “Cindy and Jeremy,” Mike said, referring to two of the other pilots.

  “Have we heard from either of them?”

  “No, but there’s so much chatter, it’s hard for anyone to get through. And ground control has diverted a lot of aircraft to other hospitals because so many are full. We don’t know who’s going where.”

  Jett gripped the back of one of the metal chairs that ringed the round Formica-topped table in the middle of the room. She’d been in this limbo a dozen times before. Wondering if her fellow pilots, her friends, were coming home again. If anyone had asked her a month before, she would have said she was prepared to lose anything. She’d been wrong.

  Tristan was out there. Jett couldn’t even let the possibility that Tristan wasn’t coming home into her mind. When her thoughts veered in that direction, a loud noise filled her head, like a klaxon roaring, and her stomach threatened to empty what little she’d eaten in the last day. She held on to the chair as hard as she could because she knew her hands were shaking, and she didn’t want anyone else to see. Tristan couldn’t be hurt. Because if she was, Jett simply didn’t know what she would do.

  “Wait,” Linda shouted, pointing at the radio. “There. There. Those are Cindy’s call signs, aren’t they?”

  “Yes,” Mike said. “Thank God. She’s okay. She’s coming in!”

  Jett turned and ran for the stairs. She reached the roof just as the helicopter landed and she didn’t slow until she’d reached the aircraft. She grabbed the handle on the side door and yanked it back. A medic she didn’t recognize blocked her view and she was forced to step back as a stretcher was handed off bearing a dark-haired woman with a cervical collar immobilizing her head and severe burns to her face and both arms. For a second, Jett thought it was Tristan and her knees wobbled. She caught herself against the side of the aircraft and fought back another urge to vomit. A second medic jumped out, this one a nurse she knew. The rotors slowed and Cindy climbed down from the cockpit. They were still one aircraft short, and Tristan was still missing.

  An enormous chasm opened on the horizon of Jett’s heart, threatening to swallow her alive. She closed her eyes.

  *

  Tristan jumped out after Cindy. Once she’d secured the patient’s airway, she’d squeezed into the space next to the pilot to give the medics in the back of the aircraft room to work. Cindy was already at the stairs on the far side of the roof. They’d all seen the fireball erupt in the sky not far from them. But none of them knew who it was. All the way back, all Tristan could think of was Jett. Jett had said she had another run to make. She should be back already, right? Safe. The fifteen-minute flight had been the longest of Tristan’s life. She took two quick steps forward, then abruptly stopped and turned back.

  “Babe? Babe!” Tristan grabbed Jett by the shoulders and wrapped her tightly in her arms. “Jesus Christ. I was so scared. You’re all right, right? Jett?” She held Jett at arm’s length. Jett looked shell-shocked, her eyes completely blank. “You are all right, aren’t you?”

  Jett shuddered and her eyes snapped into focus. She grasped Tristan’s head and kissed her fiercely. Then she pushed away.

  “Yeah,” Jett croaked, her voice sounding rusty and unused. “I’m okay.”

  Tristan stared as Jett abruptly turned and strode off, her gait slightly unsteady. What the hell?

  “Jett,” Tristan shouted, running after her.

  Jett held up a hand, not looking back. “I need some space. You should probably get some sleep.” She pushed through the stairwell doors and disappeared in a clatter of boots on stone.

  Tristan hesitated for a second, then shouldered through the door. “Fuck this.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Tristan caught up to Jett just as she was opening her on-call room door. Tristan didn’t bother to say anything since she didn’t think she’d be getting an invite. She just pushed inside behind Jett, slammed the door behind her, and locked it.

  Jett spun around in the middle of the small, narrow room. “What are you doing?”

  “Never mind what I’m doing. What are you doing?” Tristan edged between Jett and the dresser to lock the second door that she presumed led to the lounge. “What the hell was that all about up on the roof?”

  “What?” Jett shoved her hands into the front pockets of her plain black pants and leaned against the wall next to her bed, as far away from Tristan as possible, which was only a few feet. Even though she didn’t want to have this conversation, not here, and not like this, she was so glad to see Tristan, she almost didn’t care. When she’d finally registered up on the flight deck that Tristan was there in front of her, unhurt, that Tris had come back, she’d just reacted. She’d kissed Tristan because she was so relieved and because she needed the physical contact to be absolutely certain Tris was safe. Then the enormity of just how much she had needed Tristan to come back had hit her with the force of a machine gun salvo. The memory of that crippling need had sent her running, and she still needed time to regain her balance. “Nothing. Forget it.”

  “Fuck forget it.” Tristan stalked over to Jett and gripped her shoulders. “First I find you totally out of it, then you kiss me like you want to swallow me whole, then you tell me you need space and walk away. What the hell, Jett.”

  Jett shrugged as much as she could with Tristan pinning her to the wall. Tristan was leaning against her, and with Tristan this close, with Tristan’s hands on her, Jett couldn’t keep from getting excited. She didn’t need that now. She feigned nonchalance. “Reflex. Sorry.”

  “Bullshit,” Tristan snapped. “You think I care that you kissed me? You think I didn’t want that?” She kissed Jett roughly, driving her tongue into her mouth, bruising her own lips against Jett’s teeth. “What were you thinking about? What were you doing up there?”

  Jett paled. “Nothing.”

  “You’re lying.” Tristan’s eyes softened. “Don’t do that, babe.”

  “We heard there was a helicopter crash,” Jett said quietly. “I wanted to check on the status of our choppers.”

  “Is everyone okay?” Tristan was determined to get all the answers she wanted, but she was worried about the others too.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know if Jeremy has checked in yet.”

  “We’ll find out in a minute. You didn’t answer me. Why did you kiss me?”

  “Look,” Jett said in a reasonable tone. “Everybody’s strung out. Tense. I was worried, I was glad to see you. So I kissed you, okay? Let’s not make it more than it is.”

  “Why not?” Tristan slid her hands from Jett’s shoulders down her chest until she cupped Jett’s breasts through the thin black T-shirt. She felt Jett’s nipples harden beneath her fingers. She watched Jett’s eyes as she played with the small tight tips, rolling and squeezing and flicking. Jett’s eyes lost focus, but they weren’t the blank void she’d seen on the landing pad, they were soft and liquid with desire. “Oh yeah. You like that, don’t you.”

  “You already knew that.” Jett gasped and clutched Tristan’s hips, her head falling back against the wall.

  “Why were you worried?” Tristan murmured, her mouth
against Jett’s ear. She spread her fingers over Jett’s breasts, nearly covering them with her hands, and squeezed. Jett’s hips bucked and Tristan’s vision narrowed until all she could see was Jett’s face. “Why?”

  “The choppers…the crash.” Jett groaned when Tristan caught her earlobe in her teeth. “I was afraid. Afraid you might be hurt.”

  “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m right here.” Tristan yanked Jett’s T-shirt from her pants and drove both hands underneath, skimming hot skin and finding soft breasts. She fondled her breasts, teased her nipples, and kissed her way down Jett’s neck. Then she replaced her fingers with her mouth, and bit down on a hard nipple.

  Jett arched her back, her head rolling convulsively from side to side. “Tristan.”

  “It’s all right, babe.” Tristan rested her cheek against Jett’s breast and reached down to open her pants. “I know what you need.”

  Jett jerked as if she’d been shot and grabbed Tristan’s wrist, twisting it into a defensive wrist lock. “No.”

  Tristan cried out more in surprise than pain, and Jett immediately loosened her grip.

  “I’m sorry,” Jett gasped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. But you have to stop. We have to stop.”

  “For now.”

  Jett shook her head. “No. We have to stop this thing between us.”

  Tristan braced her arms on either side of Jett’s body. She knew Jett wanted her. It was written in her eyes, on her face, in the way her body responded. She loved the way Jett responded to her. She loved the way Jett made her feel, what Jett unleashed in her. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more than Jett’s desire, she wanted her heart, and her wanting made her desperate and foolishly brave. “Why?” She kissed Jett. “Why do we have to stop?”

  Jett looked at Tristan and saw Gail. She blinked and forced the image away, but she couldn’t force away the pain.

  “Oh my God, what are you doing,” Gail moaned, shoving Jett back with both hands against her shoulders.

  Jett was so lost in the sweet taste of Gail’s skin and the softness of her body, she couldn’t decipher the words. Had Gail said no? Jesus, she must have said no, but Jett hadn’t heard. She hadn’t stopped. Jett stared in confusion, trying to make sense of what Gail was saying. She couldn’t think, she could barely breathe. Gail’s blouse was open. A button was missing and her breast was outside her bra, as if a hand had lifted it free. Had she done that? Gail’s nipple was dark purple in the muted light, rigid and erect, and Jett had a faint memory of kneading it against her palm. Or had that been another woman? Another night?

  “Gail, I…I…” Jett shook her head but she still couldn’t think. Gail had kissed her, hadn’t she? Or had she kissed Gail? I know what you need. Gail’s hands on her back, on her ass. I know what you need. Jett’s clitoris throbbed. Gail had gripped her crotch while they were kissing, hadn’t she? Or had she imagined that too? Was that just a memory from all the nights she’d made herself come thinking about Gail caressing her? I know what you need. Jett lifted her hand to touch Gail’s cheek.

  “Stop it.” Gail pulled her head away. “I don’t want you to touch me. I’m not a lesbian.”

  “You kissed me,” Jett said numbly. Hadn’t she?

  “No, Chief McNally. I did not.” Gail skirted out from between Jett and the shower wall, rearranging her clothing with trembling hands. “You’re mistaken. I think it best if we just forget this.”

  Jett grabbed her before she could walk away. “I can’t forget this. Gail, I love you.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Why? We can be careful.”

  “You don’t understand. I’m not a lesbian.” Gail wrenched her arm free.

  Jett followed her. “Is it something I did? I scared you, didn’t I? I’m sorry.” Jett reached for Gail’s arm again, then hesitated. “I just needed to touch you so much. I’ll be more careful. I’d never hurt you.”

  Gail spun around. “Listen to me. I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t want you that way at all. If anything like this ever occurs again, I’ll be forced to report you.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jett whispered, but Gail was gone.

  Nothing that had ever happened to her had been as bad as watching Gail walk out of her life—not her father’s beatings, not her brothers’ tauntings, not the loneliness and isolation of so many years alone. She’d learned not to care about anything except flying. But she’d let Gail into her heart, and now she’d driven Gail away. When Jett’s knees gave way and she fell to the slick wet floor, her eyes were dry. Only her soul cried.

  “It’s her, isn’t it?” Tristan demanded harshly. “It’s because she’s back.”

  “No,” Jett said quickly, because that wasn’t the reason. Gail’s unexpected appearance had brought all the uncertainty and pain Jett had so carefully buried right to the surface, like an abscess being lanced. She’d lost Gail because she’d wanted her too much, and she was terrified of wanting Tristan.

  “You’re lying again. God damn it, don’t lie to me.” Tristan clenched her fists until the tendons stood out on her hands and her joints ached. She wanted to punch a hole in the wall. She’d never punched anything, and always thought it was a stupid reaction, but right now, she wanted to destroy something. She wanted to make some other part of her body hurt besides her heart. “You still love her. I get it.”

  “I don’t…it’s not…”

  “Never mind.” Tristan took a step back and looked wildly around the room—at the perfectly square stack of clothing on the top shelf of the open closet, at the precisely ordered pile of books on the floor by the night table, at the narrow bed where Jett slept. She knew she’d be imagining herself in that bed, with Jett beneath her, with Jett between her legs, with Jett inside her, for months. Jesus Christ. She was losing her mind. She knew about wanting someone so badly it ate you up inside. She knew now, when it was the wrong woman, and too fucking late to do anything about it. “You still want to fuck her, and it’s eating at you, isn’t it?”

  “No. Yes. God, I don’t know,” Jett blurted. “I keep thinking about her. Gail. I keep remembering.”

  “Ah, babe,” Tristan whispered. She brushed her fingers through Jett’s hair. “She came looking for you. She must want you.” She laughed, although inside it felt like tears. “She’d be crazy not to.”

  “I don’t know why she’s here.” Jett dropped onto the narrow bed and put her head in her hands. While she’d been flying, ferrying the injured back and forth to the hospital, she’d been able to block out thoughts of Gail and why she had come. Now the past had come roaring back, and she was terrified. Terrified of feeling again what she had felt that night. Gail had been kind to her, Gail had been tender. Gail had touched her. But when she’d touched Gail back, she’d needed something, wanted something, done something to make Gail run from her. And now all she knew was that she wanted Tristan in ways she had never even begun to want Gail. She couldn’t do it again. “I don’t know anything.”

  Tristan knelt in front of her and rested one hand lightly on Jett’s thigh, the other on the back of her neck. “You have to find out, babe. Cause she’s still got hold of your heart.”

  Tristan kissed the top of Jett’s head, straightened, and went to the hall door. She unlocked it, stepped out, and closed the door quietly behind her.

  Jett listened for Tristan’s footsteps, but she couldn’t hear her. She was just gone.

  “You’re wrong,” Jett whispered to the empty room. “She doesn’t have my heart.”

  *

  Tristan took the stairwell down five flights on the run. She barreled through the door onto the OR floor, punched in her code to the surgical locker room, and stripped down. She pulled on clean scrubs, grabbed a mask and a cap, and walked directly into hell. The OR looked like a MASH unit. Stretchers littered the halls, the floor was covered with discarded tubing, plastic wrappers from IV bags, and half-used rolls of tape. She started down one side of the U-shaped complex, checking rooms until sh
e found one of the senior anesthesia staff.

  “I can relieve someone,” Tristan said.

  “Uh, I think Christopher in room eight…no, nine…is probably due for a dinner break. Six hours ago. You okay? Where did you come from?”

  “I went with the first responders. I’m fine.”

  “Go ahead, then. Tell Christopher to grab a couple hours’ sleep after he eats.”

  “Sure.” Tristan headed off. She needed to take her mind off Jett. She needed not to think about the brunette. Gail. A beautiful woman. A beautiful woman who had come halfway around the world for Jett. She stopped suddenly, the pain nearly blinding her.

  “It’ll pass,” she whispered to herself. She’d let her guard down, let things go too far. She’d made a mistake. She’d get over it. She’d work, and while she was working she wouldn’t be able to think of anything else. She was too conditioned to give all her attention to the patient to let her mind wander. And when she was done working, she’d make a few phone calls. She’d get over it.

  *

  Jett waited until some of the familiar numbness returned, blunting the pain, and then she went into the flight lounge. It didn’t matter how much she hurt, she still had crew members somewhere out in the field. And she didn’t leave her crew behind.

  “Any word from Jeremy?” Jett asked.

  “He just radioed,” Linda said, her eyes bright with tears. “They’re grounded in Atlantic City. Jeremy thinks something’s wrong with the hydraulics.”

  “All accounted for, then,” Jett said.

  Quinn Maguire came through the door. “All our people okay?”

  “Yes,” Linda said. “Everyone is fine.”

  Jett pivoted and started for her room. “Log me back in at oh-two hundred.”

  “Are you sure?” Linda called after her. “You had a really long shift today.”

  “I’m fine. I’ll be ready.” Jett closed her door and stretched out on top of her perfectly made bed, fully clothed, her arms straight down at her sides. She stared at the ceiling, dry-eyed, and waited for sleep.