Second Alarm (Firehouse Fourteen Book 5)

by Lisa B. Kamps

“Yeah, right. That’s why she came to see you.”

  “One time. Doesn’t mean anything.”

  “If you say so. That’s why—”

  “Fuck. Holy shit. Watch it. That fucking hurt.” Adam grabbed his right shoulder, his eyes closed against the hard throbbing caused by Jimmy pulling the sling free.

  “Sorry, accident.”

  “Yeah, I bet.”

  Jimmy ignored the accusation then slid the shower curtain to the side. “You sure you can handle this by yourself? You don’t want to wait?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” Adam climbed over the edge of the tub, each movement slow and careful so he wouldn’t jostle his arm or shoulder or ribs. Although the ribs didn’t hurt too much, as long as he was careful.

  He closed his eyes and stood under the hot spray of water, his body slowly relaxing as warmth seeped into him. God, this was almost like heaven.

  No, heaven would be if Beth was here with him.

  He stifled a groan when he noticed the first faint stirrings in his cock. Great, just what didn’t need. He pushed all thoughts of Beth from his mind and reached for the shower gel, squeezing some onto the top of his head, some more onto his chest.

  Lathering up using his left hand was awkward, clumsy. More than once he had started to use his right, only to be stopped by a quick stab of pain. It wasn’t the most thorough cleansing he’d ever done, but he still felt a hell of a lot better than he had earlier.

  Adam waited until the water changed from hot to lukewarm then reached behind him to turn it off. He wiped the water from his face then stuck his hand outside the shower curtain.

  “Jimmy, can you hand me a towel?”

  Silence.

  Adam sighed, waved his hand around, blindly searching for the towel rack. “Jimmy!”

  The towel was thrust into his hand without a word. Adam muttered his impatient thanks then wiped down as best he could before rubbing the towel over his head. He draped it over his shoulder then pushed back the shower curtain, ready to step out.

  And froze.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, wondering if maybe he fell in the shower. Wondering if he hit his head and was suffering from some kind of weird hallucination.

  He opened his eyes and stared.

  No, he wasn’t imagining things. Beth was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, looking as uncomfortable as he felt. Her gaze dropped, shot back to his face as a blush spread across her face.

  Adam scrambled for the towel, tried to untangle it and get it spread in front of him. It dropped into the tub, completely useless. He started to bend down to grab it, felt a sharp pain and quickly straightened.

  “Uh. I—Beth.”

  “Hi.”

  “Uh, yeah. Hi.” Adam climbed over the edge of the tub, grabbed another towel from the towel rack and awkwardly wrapped it around his waist. “What—what are you doing here?”

  Shit, did he have to sound so unwelcoming? So stunned? Yes, he was surprised—totally blown away. But it was a good surprise—he thought. Maybe. Unless he really had knocked himself unconscious and was only imagining her standing there.

  She rocked back on her heels, her gaze dancing around the small room before finally resting on him again. “Someone said you, uh, might need a haircut.”

  “A haircut?”

  “Yeah. To fix, you know, the singed ends.”

  Adam almost raised his hand to run it through his hair, caught himself—and the towel—at the last minute. “A haircut?”

  Beth fidgeted, uncertainty clear in her gaze. She looked away, staring down at her feet. “I can come back—”

  “No!” Adam took a step toward her, stopped, cleared his throat. “No. I mean, you’re here, right? Might as well.”

  “Good. Okay. Good. I’ll meet you in the dining room.”

  Adam nodded, his mind still reeling. “Is, uh, is Jimmy still here?”

  “No, he left already. Why? Do you need help?”

  Fuck. He wished he could say no. He really wanted to say no. But no way in hell could he manage the sling and the pants by himself, not using his left hand. Not without hurting himself.

  He swallowed back his pride and offered a small grin. “Yeah. Probably. I mean, at least with the sling.”

  Beth didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the sling from the counter and closed the distance between them. She unfolded it, studying it with a frown before tossing him a confused look. Adam told her how to place it, turned around so she could settle it over his head. Her fingers brushed the back of his neck, grazed the skin of his left shoulder. He heard her gasp, felt her fingers trace the bruise that ran along his back. Gentle, featherlight, as if she was afraid of hurting him.

  Adam closed his eyes and held his breath, told his body not to react, told himself her touch meant nothing. Even if it did, there was nothing he could do about it, not now.

  “It’s from the bottle. Where I landed on it. It doesn’t really hurt.”

  “It looks like it would.” Her fingers hesitated, so warm against his skin, then finally moved away. Her movements turned brisk, quick and efficient as she fastened the sling around him and secured it in place. “Anything else?”

  Shit. Could he manage the sweatpants with one hand? Maybe now that his arm was immobilized, it wouldn’t jostle so much. He’d still have to bend over, still have to struggle to get his legs through each opening.

  He had to do it himself. He couldn’t let Beth help him, not when his cock was—not surprisingly—already coming to life. Yeah, she’d seen it before. Held it, stroked it, sucked it. But this…this was different. Too intimate somehow. Too personal. It made him feel vulnerable, required a trust he wasn’t quite ready to give.

  A trust he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to give. Not just to Beth—to anyone.

  “No, I think I’m good.”

  He sensed her disappointment, heard the hesitation in her voice when she spoke. “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Thanks.”

  “I’ll be in the other room if you need anything.”

  He heard the door close behind her, released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. What the fuck was wrong with him?

  Everything. Nothing.

  He grabbed the sweatpants and lowered himself to the edge of the tub. Then he just stared at them, the dark blue lettering running down the left leg blurring against the gray fabric.

  What the fuck was wrong with him?

  The question—somehow an accusation—spun through his mind, over and over. Was he so fucked up he couldn’t accept help from a woman who obviously cared about him? Was he so afraid of admitting to any vulnerability that he’d rather risk hurting himself than asking for—accepting—help?

  If it had been Jimmy—or Dave or Jay or fuck, even Mikey—he would have never hesitated. But Beth? He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t let any weakness be exposed.

  Couldn’t let himself trust.

  Not in himself, not in the chance that Beth really might care for him. He didn’t want her to care for him, was afraid of what that might mean.

  Was afraid he’d do something wrong, that he’d twist and warp whatever she felt until it became something else, something dirty and sick and depraved. Until it blackened and shriveled and died.

  Just like him.

  Just like his soul.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Just like his soul.

  How long had Adam been sitting there, his mind fighting the truth of who he was? If he was smart, if he had any decency at all, he’d tell Beth to leave. It was for her own good. She deserved so much better than anything he could give her. He’d tried telling Mikey that, that day in the hospital. Tried telling her every single time she brought it up after that. But she wouldn’t believe him, had brushed off his concerns, had told him he was being too hard on himself.

  He should have told Mikey why. If she knew half of the things he’d done, she would have never called Beth. Would have never
meddled and tried to play matchmaker. He should have told her.

  But then Beth wouldn’t be here.

  And God help him, he didn’t want her to leave. It was selfish of him, but he wanted her here. Wanted to know she cared for him. Wanted, if only for an hour or two, to believe that she saw something inside him, something good. Something worth caring about.

  He was a fool. Such a fucking fool.

  A knock sounded on the door, soft and hesitant. “You okay in there? Need any help?”

  No. Tell her no. Tell her to go away, to leave. To go home and forget she ever met him.

  “Adam?” She knocked again, a little louder this time.

  He opened his mouth, willed the words to come out, told himself it was for the best. It would be the first selfless thing he had done in a long time. But only a harsh croak came out.

  “Adam?” She repeated his name, concern heavy in her voice. He saw the handle turn, saw the door ease open, yet he still couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t make himself tell her what she needed to hear—the truth, of who and what he was.

  Not even when she hurried toward him. Not when she kneeled down in front of him and covered his shaking hand with her own. When had he started shaking? Why?

  Concern filled her eyes, along with something else, something he didn’t want to see. Something he didn’t deserve.

  Tell her, dammit.

  But he couldn’t get the words out. Couldn’t even form them in his mind.

  What did she see when she looked at him like that? She should be able to see him for what he really was. She should be able to see the blackness of his empty soul reflected in his eyes. Why didn’t she see it?

  “You okay?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, just took the sweatpants from his hand and shook them out. Her hand, warm and gentle, closed around one ankle and guided his foot through the leg opening. She did the same with the other foot then tugged the pants up to his knees. Her fingers brushed against his inner thigh. She hesitated then released a small laugh, the sound quiet, almost breathless.

  “This is a little weird, dressing you. All the other times, it’s always been the opposite.”

  The sound that bubbled from Adam’s throat couldn’t be called a laugh. It was too harsh, too strangled. Filled with self-deprecation. “I’m an ass.”

  “Why? Because you need help? Don’t be stupid.”

  “No, that’s not why.”

  Beth pushed to her feet. He expected her to ask why but she didn’t. Instead, she leaned down and held her arm out in front of him. “Here, take my arm, I’ll help you up.”

  Adam looked up at her. “Why?”

  “So you don’t hurt yourself—”

  “No. Why are you here? Why? I don’t understand.”

  She was quiet for so long, her gaze steady on his as she watched him. A small smile, tinged with a hint of sadness, flashed across her face as she shrugged. “I don’t know why. I just know—”

  She hesitated, chewed on her lower lip for a second then shrugged again. “I just—I guess I feel like I need to be here. I know it doesn’t make sense. I can’t explain it. Now come on, take my arm and I’ll help you up.”

  Adam hesitated, wanting to ask her to explain anyway. To make him understand. But he was afraid to, afraid of pushing, afraid of any answer she might give him. So he reached for her arm, let her ease him to a standing position as he pushed up with his legs. Beth leaned down and grabbed the waistband of the sweatpants, quickly tugged them up over his thighs and hips then took the towel from him and slung it over her shoulder.

  “Everything’s set up in the dining room. This won’t take long, then you can eat. And then you should probably lay down. You shouldn’t overdo anything the first day home.”

  Adam followed her out to the dining room, let her help him into one of the chairs. She draped a plastic cape around his shoulders, settled another one on the floor, then reached in front of him for a comb and a pair of scissors.

  She ran her fingers through his hair, straightening the damp strands, using the comb here and there. He felt her pull a section straight, heard the faint clipping of the scissors as she trimmed the ends. “This really isn’t bad at all. You won’t even see a real difference once I’m done.”

  “You should leave.”

  She paused, the scissors going still. Adam heard her take a deep breath, imagined he could feel the warmth of it as she exhaled. “Wow. A few snips and already you’re lodging a complaint. Usually my customers are pretty happy when I’m done.”

  “Beth, it’s not—that’s not what I meant.” He started to turn his head but she held it still with the heel of one hand. She ran the comb through his hair, made a few snips with the scissors, combed another section.

  Snip, snip.

  “Then what do you mean?”

  “I—” He hesitated, not sure what to say.

  Tell her.

  He needed to tell her.

  “I—I’m fucked up, Beth. Really fucked up.”

  She paused again, her hand momentarily dropping to his left shoulder. And God, her touch felt so good, so comforting. He wanted to reach up and grab her hand, to hold onto it and never let go. He curled his fingers into a fist and forced his hand to stay in his lap.

  “Is it your shoulder? Is it worse—”

  “No. No, it’s not that. Nothing like that.” He pulled in a deep breath, winced at the pain and quickly released it, took a shorter one. “It’s—it’s me. I—the things I do. That I’ve done.”

  Beth moved her hand. She was going to leave now, he knew it. It was for the best, she deserved so much better.

  But she didn’t leave. She ran her fingers through his hair again, resumed cutting with the scissors.

  Snip. Snip.

  “What kind of things?”

  And fuck, he couldn’t tell her. He didn’t want to tell her. But she deserved to know. Needed to know.

  He closed his eyes, struggled to find the right words.

  And then he told her. Everything. How he’d walked in on his girlfriend. What he saw. What he did. How he felt after. How he’d discovered the chatroom. The hook-ups, the casual encounters. Every single detail, all of it. The words fell from his mouth as if something had burst inside him, until there was nothing left to tell.

  Until he felt…empty. Hollow.

  Beth never said a word the entire time, just kept standing behind him, running her fingers through his hair and cutting. She finally stopped, placed the scissors and comb back on the table, and carefully removed the cape. He wanted to turn around and look at her, needed to see the disgust and loathing on her face.

  Needed her to tell him what kind of sick and depraved monster he really was.

  But she didn’t say anything, just quietly gathered the plastic sheet from the floor and carefully folded it before carrying it into the kitchen. He watched her throw it into the trash can, turned away when she walked back into the dining room.

  He had lied to himself—he didn’t want to see her face. Couldn’t bear to see the disgust in her eyes when she looked at him. It didn’t matter. She’d leave now, just walk out and that would be that.

  Except she didn’t. She pulled out the chair to his left and took a seat, carefully folded her hands in front of her and rested them on the table, then let out a shaky breath.

  It was the only sound in the apartment for a long time. Almost too long.

  “So you think you’re twisted and warp because you’ve met women in a chatroom for sex?”

  “Yes. Didn’t you hear what I said? The things I’ve done? It wasn’t just the sex. It was—”

  “We met in the chatroom. Does that mean I’m twisted and warped?”

  Adam flinched as if he’d been hit in the chest. Is that what she thought he was saying? Did she really think he thought of her as twisted and warped?

  “No. God no. Not even close. That’s not what I meant, Beth. You’re not—”

  “Then why are you?”

  “Didn
’t you hear what I said? All the things I’ve done?”

  “What about the things we’ve done?”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about—”

  “Did you ever force anyone?”

  “What? No! I would never—”

  “So it was all consensual?”

  “Of course. That doesn’t mean—”

  “Were any of the women underage?”

  “Hell no! Absolutely not. I would never—”

  “Then why do you think you’re twisted and warped? Why are you so convinced of that?”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” He pushed away from the table, got to his feet and started pacing in an angry circle. “I walked in on my girlfriend fucking another guy and got a fucking hard on! I joined in. How is that not fucked up? I’ve had a threesome, got off watching two girls fuck each other. How is that not fucked up? It is. I am. Just…I’m just fucked up, period.”

  “I’ve, uh, I’ve never had a threesome but don’t most guys get excited about watching two girls?”

  “Beth—”

  “Don’t they? That’s what I’ve always heard. My, uh, my ex-boyfriend used to watch porn all the time. That was what turned him on. The girls, I mean. He, um, he would get angry because I wouldn’t—I never—”

  “Fuck.” Adam ran his hand over his face, his gut clenching at the pain and humiliation on Beth’s face. He moved closer to her, kneeled down next to her and reached for her hand. “Your ex was a fucking asshole then.”

  “But you did it—”

  “Yeah. Once. It wasn’t my thing.” And how the hell had the conversation taken this turn? Why couldn’t she see how twisted he was? Why was she still sitting there, her fingers clutching his, instead of running out the door?

  “Beth—”

  “He’s why I went to the chatroom, you know.”

  “What?”

  “He used to tell me that—that I wasn’t…you know. So I wanted to prove I was.”

  Anger seared his veins, burning and intense. His hand tightened around hers, tugged until she looked over at him. “Then he really is an asshole who doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Beth, you’re one of the most sensual, giving women I’ve ever met. And you deserve so much more.”