Trauma Alert

by Radclyffe

  “Stop.” Wynter swatted at her shoulder. “Go away. I’ll put my feet up. In fact, both of you can leave.”

  Ali pulled out a kitchen chair, sat down, and lifted Wynter’s legs onto her lap. Pearce backed toward the door, clearly reluctant to leave. “I’ll see that she behaves, Pearce.”

  Wynter waited a beat until Pearce’s footsteps retreated down the hall. “You avoided me all night. In fact, you avoided everyone all night. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

  “I was busy with party stuff. This crew can really go through the beer.”

  “Your bullshit so doesn’t work with me,” Wynter said. “I suppose you think that somehow pregnancy affects my eyesight too? That I might miss that the drool-inspiring stud you arrived with was suddenly absent from the picture the whole night?”

  “I really don’t want to talk about her,” Ali said, keeping her head down. She didn’t want Wynter to see what she knew she couldn’t hide. She couldn’t get control of the pain that slivered through her with every breath, that rode the surface of her mind like a thousand hot needles stabbing through her thoughts until all she could see or hear or think about was Beau. The hurt in Beau’s eyes, the sadness in her voice, the beautiful vulnerability of her body that she had given with such trust. Tears floated on her lashes and she angrily dashed them away.

  “Okay,” Wynter said softly, gently. “I guess I thought when the two of you showed up together that you’d smoothed over the bumps.”

  “The bumps are more like mountains, I think.”

  “Maybe you just need a little distance.” Wynter reached for Ali’s hand. “She’s intense. You’re intense. I can only imagine what it’s like between you.”

  “It’s chaos, that’s what it is,” Ali said bitterly. She touched her chest as if the block of anguish lodged behind her sternum were real. If only she could slice open the flesh, saw through the bone, and excise the pain as easily as she could an invading bullet. “She confuses me. She scares the hell out of me. I look at her and I can’t tell if what I’m feeling is pain or happiness.”

  “That does sound scary.” Wynter stroked the top of Ali’s hand. “You’ve always impressed me with how calm and steady you are, no matter what’s happening.”

  “I learned how much love could hurt when I lost Sammy,” Ali said. “There’s no way to shield against it. I don’t ever want to feel that way again, and with Beau…I can’t seem to stop feeling.”

  “Only you know what you need, Ali. No one else’s truth matters.” Wynter rubbed her thumb on Ali’s knuckles. “But I love you, so I have to say this one thing. I’ve kidded around a lot about you seeing Beau because she’s so hot. I mean, she is gorgeous.”

  Ali laughed, but the laughter hurt.

  “When she looks at you, she doesn’t hold anything back. What’s in her eyes—you must have seen it too.”

  “When I first saw her, I thought she was all show. But her show is just a front to hide how unbelievably tender she is.” Ali’s hand trembled and Wynter tightened her grasp. “She almost died when she was a teenager. Hodgkin’s.”

  Wynter caught her breath. “Oh, God. Ali.”

  Ali pulled her hand free and scrubbed at her eyes impatiently. They stung and burned as if she were in a room filled with smoke. “She takes chances now, chances that she thinks she can handle. Maybe she can. I know I couldn’t.”

  Blowing out a breath, Ali rose and gently rested Wynter’s feet on the chair. “We’re wrong for each other for so many reasons. It’s better this way.”

  *

  Beau heard the lock slide closed on the restroom door as she finished buttoning her fly. When she opened the gray metal door of the stall, the first thing she registered was Solea standing a few feet away. The second was that Bernie’s always crowded bathroom was empty save for them.

  “Hey,” Beau said, turning sideways to slide past Solea in the narrow space between the stalls and the wall to get to the tiny sink in one corner. “Are you two ready to go?”

  “Not just yet.” Solea’s voice was low and sultry and very close to Beau’s ear.

  Beau felt the heat of another body through her shirt at the same instant as she registered the press of firm full breasts against her back. She straightened, water dripping from her hands, and looked down at the fingers fumbling at her fly. Carefully, she circled Solea’s wrist and pulled her hand away. “Let’s collect Lynn and I’ll drive you both home.”

  Solea’s arms came around her waist and the thrust of hips against Beau’s ass pushed her into the edge of the vanity. At any other time, the sudden pressure against her crotch would have been welcome. Ordinarily, she liked the alluring anonymity of a woman fondling her from behind. When she couldn’t see their faces the impersonal nature of what they were doing didn’t matter. Didn’t matter if she didn’t know them or care for them or care to see them ever again. They were just two bodies connecting, pleasuring, and then drifting apart. Tonight was different. She knew Solea, and that made what was happening between them personal. Even if she hadn’t known her, she wouldn’t have wanted the quick, easy, meaningless pleasure. An orgasm couldn’t begin to heal the raw and bleeding surface of her soul.

  “This isn’t going to happen,” Beau said, even as Solea’s hand drifted up torso and her fingers toyed with Beau’s nipple through her cotton shirt. Her body responded—her nipple tightened, her clitoris thudded with a rush of blood—but she felt no desire, no need to come, only sadness that couldn’t be assuaged. Not here. Not now. Not with this woman.

  She pivoted, slipped out of Solea’s grasp, and racked back the lock on the door.

  “I’ll find Lynn. We’ll wait for you right out front.”

  Solea cocked a hip. “You know it would be good.”

  Beau grinned apologetically. “Bad timing. Sorry.”

  “Next time you’re mine.”

  Beau let the door close behind her. She hadn’t had anything to drink. The only reason she’d come to Bernie’s after leaving Ali had been because she didn’t want to go home and be alone with her thoughts. She wouldn’t be able to hide her devastation from Jilly, and she simply didn’t want to talk about what couldn’t be changed. Maybe Ali needed time. Maybe time would never be enough. Some wounds ran too deep, and although healed, the scars left behind were too fragile to bear more pain.

  Maybe what she was asking—that Ali take a chance on her, on love, on the future—was too much. There’d been a time not that long ago when the future meant nothing to her. And now she wanted all the seconds of all the hours, all the days of all the years of her life, to belong to Ali.

  She couldn’t settle for less, and she wasn’t sure what she would do with that endless time if she had to.

  *

  Pearce wanted to walk Ali to the subway station, but Ali finally convinced her that it wasn’t necessary. A two-block walk along a well-lit street was safe enough, even at one in the morning. Pearce probably would have insisted if Wynter hadn’t looked so drawn and tired. Shamelessly, Ali had used Wynter’s condition as a bargaining chip to convince Pearce she didn’t need an escort. And then she had passed by the subway station and trekked for an hour through the dark, cold, and quiet streets until she reached home. Numb and exhausted, she went straight upstairs, stripped, and got into bed.

  Shivering, she curled around herself, waiting for her body warmth to create a cocoon of comfort. Although she gradually grew warmer, the comfort never came. She was still alone in the dark. Beau’s scent, her taste, infused her senses, and all she could feel was her.

  Turning onto her back, she stared at the ceiling, willing the churning in the pit of her stomach to go away. Willing the heavy sadness that sat on her chest, making it hard for her to breathe, to disappear. She hadn’t asked for this need. Hadn’t wanted this desire. Hadn’t wanted to feel so much.

  At five, after a sleepless night, she took a long shower, dressed, and went upstairs to Ralph’s. A sliver of light was visible under his door and she tapped softly. A few m
inutes later the door swung open and Ralph stood there in a blue woolen robe and worn brown slippers. The bottoms of his pajama pants were frayed and the pattern—bicycles or maybe footballs—was faded to a watery blue. Victor peered up at her through rheumy eyes, snuffling sleepily.

  “I was going out for a walk,” Ali said. “I thought Victor might be ready.” Ralph eyed her solemnly for a few seconds, then simply turned, retrieved Victor’s leash, and handed it to her.

  “Thank you,” Ali said, wondering why her throat felt so tight and her eyes so scratchy.

  “Are you all right?” Ralph asked.

  “I don’t think so.” Ali clipped the lead to Victor’s collar.

  “That’s good, then,” Ralph said.

  Ali stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

  “Usually when you hurt, you pretend you don’t.” Ralph patted her cheek gently. “If there’s no one in the world who can hurt you, then you would truly be alone. I’m glad you’re not.”

  Ali turned quickly away, horrified as tears spilled over the dam of her lower lids. Tired. She was just tired. Surely the terrible wrenching ache in her chest would not last long. For if it did, how would she ever bear it?

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Hey, Cross,” Bobby called from the doorway at the rear of the station house. A single bulb in a wire cage above the door barely illuminated his face. “Time to hit the road or we’ll be late for the class.”

  Beau dribbled hard away from the basket, pivoted, set, and launched the basketball. It hit the netless rim, swirled around it like a leaf in a vortex, and finally dropped through. She caught it on the bounce, swerved and cut an intricate swath through a swarm of imagined defenders, and sank a three-pointer from the far corner. “I’m not going.”

  Bobby let the plain dark brown metal door close behind him and strode across the cracked blacktop. He snagged the next ball Beau sank before she could get it. He tucked it under his arm. “What are you talking about?”

  “You heard me. Give me the ball.”

  “You want to tell me what’s going on?” Bobby slid the ball behind his back when Beau grabbed for it. “You’ve been pulling doubles almost every day for two weeks. And I know you traded your days off for extra shifts. I haven’t seen you in the dorm, so you’re running on no sleep. Now you’re going to ditch the TER-OPS session and risk getting cut. What the fuck, Beau?”

  “Give me the ball,” Beau said menacingly.

  “No.”

  Beau popped him in the chest with both hands. “Give me my fucking ball, Bobby.”

  “Go fuck yourself.” Bobby arced the ball over the chain-link fence into an adjacent weed-filled lot.

  “You asshole.” Beau stared into the dark after her basketball. A black cloud of fury shotgunned through her and she barely resisted taking a swing at Bobby. She tried to shoulder past him to the door and he blocked her way. She didn’t try to avoid him, but rammed his shoulder with hers. As strong as she was, he was bigger and stronger and he met her shove with one of his own and she rocked back on her heels.

  “You want to fight?” Beau clenched her fists. “Fine, we’ll fight.”

  “I don’t want to fight you, you moron.” Bobby set his hands on his hips. “It’s Ali, isn’t it? Gotta be. Only a woman could warp your mind like this.”

  The fight went out of her as quickly as the rage had surged, leaving her weak and drained. She’d been like this since she’d walked out of Wynter’s party—teetering on the knife edge of fury and despair. If she kept busy, kept moving, she could escape the emptiness that was tearing her to pieces. If she slept, she dreamed of Ali—startlingly clear dreams of touching her, lying beside her, being held by her. When she woke, the loneliness and the loss rode her hard for hours, the pain so intense she could barely function.

  “I fell for her,” Beau said hollowly. “She’s not interested.”

  “So you’re not going tonight because it’s her session?”

  “I just don’t want to see her.” She’d managed to avoid Ali for the last week and a half. She’d been lucky, and most of her calls had been straightforward ER cases. The few times they had to bring a patient to the trauma unit, she’d hung back to restock the rig and fill out paperwork while Bobby escorted the patient inside. He hadn’t noticed the pattern. She wanted to see Ali so much the ache was a constant hunger, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to pretend she didn’t care. Didn’t miss her. Didn’t long for her.

  “You can’t cut all of her sessions,” Bobby said. “You’ll get kicked out of the new unit. Jesus, Beau. Use your head.”

  “I just don’t feel like it. Go without me.” Beau’s voice broke and she turned away, even though he couldn’t see her face in the shadows. “Just go. Gimme a break.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “You can’t let this beat you, Beau. If you love her, you can’t just walk away.”

  “It’s her call, Bobby.” Beau shoved her hands into the pockets of her cargo pants and stared at the sky, blinking back her unshed tears. The stars blurred and the darkness drew close around her, swallowing her. “And she doesn’t want me.”

  “At least go home. You don’t need to pull another double. That’s when you start making mistakes.” His voice got rough. “If you don’t care about yourself, think of Jilly. She adores you.”

  “Don’t you talk to me about my sister,” Beau said. “You don’t know anything about it.”

  “I do know,” Bobby snapped. “I know what she did for you, and I know what you think she did for you. Sometimes you’re so dumb, I believe you really do have a dick.”

  Beau spun around, her nose a hair’s breadth away from his and her temper even closer to exploding. “She’s the better of us, always has been. And she almost died for me. I didn’t deserve it then, I don’t deserve it now.”

  “You know what?” Bobby poked her in the shoulder with an index finger as hard as steel. “I think you’re right. You don’t deserve any of it. Someone as unselfish, as beautiful, as loving as Jilly shouldn’t waste one precious second of her time on you, you whiny little wimp.”

  Beau jerked back. “You want to repeat that?”

  “I don’t think I can. It was a really good speech.” The harsh white light caught the side of Bobby’s face and she saw his mouth lift into a half-assed grin.

  “Man, you’re right. I’m pathetic,” Beau groaned. “It just hurts, you know?”

  Bobby looped his arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

  Beau shrugged, glad for the anger that had dulled the pain for a few moments. “So, you sound like you’ve got a thing for my sister.”

  “Is that going to be a problem?” Bobby’s arm tightened on her.

  “No. She could probably do worse, and you could never do better.”

  Bobby laughed. “Thanks, partner. Go home, okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Get going before you’re late. Take notes for me.”

  Bobby waved and jogged to the door. Once he was gone, Beau climbed the chain-link fence and dropped down into the dark lot on the other side. She searched by the flickering light of the moon until she found her basketball, climbed back, and started dribbling. The hollow thud of the ball striking pavement echoed the lonely beat of her heart.

  *

  At the conclusion of her lecture on containment of suspected biologic contaminants, Ali removed a folder from her briefcase and passed out the field test evaluations to the paramedics.

  “Everyone passed,” Ali said, “which is no surprise considering you’re all certified paramedics. Just the same, handling mass casualties in what amounts to a battle zone is not the same thing as treating multiple motor vehicle accident victims or even fire casualties. Remember, you become potential targets in a terrorist attack. The first responders are often lures for further assault.”

  Five serious faces nodded back. The sixth, the one she’d been looking for for days, was still absent. She hadn’t seen Beau since the night of the party almost two weeks before
. Never one to wait for someone else to make a decision or take action, she found herself strangely paralyzed. Uncertain. She checked her phone for a message from Beau dozens of times every day. Each time she waited for incoming patients, she searched for Beau among the paramedics. The phone call never came. Beau never appeared. Beau had disappeared from the landscape of Ali’s existence as swiftly as she had appeared, but the space she left behind remained a yawning cavern that resonated with loneliness and despair.

  Ali wanted to call her, to hear her low amused chuckle, the flirtatious note that never failed to creep into her voice when they spoke. But she couldn’t. What could she say? I never meant to hurt you. I can’t bear the thought that I did. I hurt constantly without you. If I hurt this much now, how could I possibly risk letting you closer? I would never survive losing you. I can’t. I can’t be that vulnerable. I can’t, and oh God, I’m so sorry.

  “There’s no room for error in the field,” Ali concluded, anxious now to get away. “Read the evaluations. Stay sharp out there. I’ll see you for my next lecture in three weeks.”

  The men filed past and she couldn’t help but stop the last one before he left the room. Bobby looked at her with a question in his eyes.

  “Where’s Beau?” Ali asked.

  Bobby appeared to find something on the blank wall to the right of Ali’s shoulder fascinating. “She just came off a double shift. She’s been working a lot lately. I think she went home.”

  Ali frowned. “Is she all right?”

  “I guess you probably should ask her that.”

  “Of course,” Ali said with a sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, fuck this,” he muttered. “Jesus—what is it with you two? She’s fucked up over you. Okay?”

  Ali caught her breath. “What do you mean? God, she’s such a hothead. You have to keep an eye on her, make sure she—”

  “You know what?” Bobby said. “No, I don’t. She’s my partner and I’d do anything for her, but this isn’t for me to fix. This time, you’re the only—”