Always You: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (ABCs of Love Collection Books 5-8)

by Brenna Jacobs

  “I know it’s a huge sacrifice, and I appreciate it.”

  “It’s good to see that you’re well,” Shae said, carefully not mentioning either Hadley’s job or her relationship status.

  At the door of the Bed and Breakfast, Hadley gave her sister a squeeze. “Keep moving and shaking the world,” Hadley whispered to Shae.

  “I will. You too.”

  She didn’t need to respond to that. Her sister meant well.

  “I love you, Bug,” her dad said.

  “Thanks, Dad. I love you, too.”

  Her mom leaned in for a kiss on the cheek, and Hadley wrapped her arms around her mom’s thin shoulders. “I’m glad you came,” she said.

  Even if it wasn’t exactly true this minute, she could see how it would be true later. When the prickly feeling of judgment wore off. Like in three or four years.

  “I’ll see you in the morning for crème brulee French toast,” Hadley said. “It’s full of gluten and dairy and calories and fat, and I hear it’s absolutely worth it. Good night.”

  She did not turn and run back to the store as soon as they were inside the building. She didn’t run away at all. She walked through the dark streets with her eyes on the road and her head on her shoulders. Survival defined success, and she had survived. She stopped by her apartment and picked up Edison, because she could always use the company and he could certainly use the exercise.

  As they walked to the shop, Hadley told Edison all the good parts of the evening. She didn’t want to poison his mind against her family. Most of her comments were about pie.

  “They tried,” she told him. “And we reward trying, don’t we?”

  Edison turned and licked Hadley’s arm.

  “I should leave you out here,” she said as they arrived at the shop. “But I think I might be in there a while cleaning up, and you might do something unsubtle on the sidewalk.” She turned her key in the lock. “Come on, but please behave yourself.”

  She didn’t expect his behavior to be any different tonight than it was any other time, but again, rewards for trying.

  When they made their way to the back of the shop, Edison’s nose twitched, and he let out a single bark.

  “You want some turkey? I hear it was pretty good.” She held her hand out. “Sit,” she commanded. Edison slurped at her hand. “Sit,” she said again. He walked in a circle, knocking into three different shelf units. “Good try,” she said, and pulled a slice of turkey off the serving platter. She took a bite before handing it over to him, and he inhaled the rest.

  She kept tossing him slices of turkey while she repackaged all the food and placed it back in the bags she’d carried it over in. Loading it all into the car only took one trip, and she opened the front door for Edison. He always got to ride shotgun.

  “Oh, my phone,” she said, calling Edison to get back out of the car. “Sorry to confuse you, buddy, but I’m not leaving you alone in the car. That’s a story that cannot end well.” She let the two of them back into the shop, walking as quickly as Edison’s bulk allowed through the maze of shelves and rooms. In the game room, she told Edison to sit, which he ignored, and grabbed her phone off the shelf where she’d left it before serving dinner.

  Glancing at the screen, she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise.

  There were a dozen text messages and seven missed calls.

  Her stomach dropped when she saw that they were all from Fletcher, Savanna, and Rose.

  Something terrible had happened; she knew it.

  She tried calling Savanna’s cell first, but it went straight to voicemail. She quickly keyed in a text saying that she only just got her phone back.

  Not wanting to miss a return call, she decided to text Fletcher instead of calling him.

  Where are you? Savanna’s not answering. Are you with her?

  He answered right away.

  Mercy Hospital.

  What happened?

  Trouble on a call.

  You had a fire today???

  She probably didn’t need to ask him that. It was clear that he had. But she was experiencing all of this for the first time right this minute. Her processing happened slowly. There was something she ought to ask Fletcher.

  Oh, right.

  Are you okay?

  I’m fine. Nick’s hurt.

  On my way.

  Chapter 17

  Fletcher took another lap around the waiting room before sitting down with Rose again. He’d tried to get her to go home for the last hour, but she was adamant that he needed someone to stay with him.

  Savanna was inside, in a room with a sign that directed her not to use her cell phone, one bed, and lots of machines. And Nick.

  As the hours had passed, nurses realized Fletcher needed updates, so they came and reported what they were permitted to report. The words floated like dark clouds in his mind. Smoke inhalation. Severe concussion. Inconclusive.

  Fletcher walked laps and waited, keeping his phone in his hand for whenever Hadley decided to notice that Savanna needed her. That wasn’t fair, and he knew it. But what was keeping her? It was so unlike her to not be there that he started to worry that something had happened to her.

  He got up and walked halfway around the lobby before he felt his phone vibrate with an incoming text.

  Where are you? Savanna’s not answering. Are you with her?

  His relief overcame his annoyance that she’d waited so long to respond. Now he had to choose one of her questions to answer.

  Mercy Hospital.

  As soon as he hit Send, he knew he should have softened it.

  What happened?

  Now he had a chance to explain, but it would take too long. Just get here, he thought.

  Trouble on a call.

  You had a fire today???

  What was he supposed to say to that?

  Are you okay?

  Was he? He certainly felt better now, knowing that she cared.

  I’m fine. Nick’s hurt.

  On my way.

  He knew that as soon as she got in the car, she’d have her phone put away, so he pocketed his and went to tell Rose it was time to go home.

  She watched him come, a question on her face.

  “She answered?” Rose asked.

  Fletcher nodded. “She’s on her way. You need to get to bed.”

  Rose gave him a look. “It’s eight-thirty.”

  Fletcher slumped into the uncomfortable chair beside her. “Is that true?” Head in his hands, he exhaled a long, shaky breath.

  “Maybe you should get to bed,” Rose said, her hand on his back.

  Fletcher said nothing, but he shook his head. He knew Rose understood. He wouldn’t be leaving until he knew Nick was fine. Preferably fine enough to be home. Or back at work.

  Rose patted him. “How about you go wash your face,” she said. “Help wake you up.”

  Fletcher nodded and hauled his tired body out of the plastic chair. He made his way to the lobby restroom where he splashed warm water over his face, then cold. Feeling the stubble on his jaw underscored how long a day it had been. The hand dryer was one of those stick-your-hands-inside numbers, so it was no help at all for his face. He pulled his T-shirt up and wiped off the water and realized he hadn’t yet showered after the call.

  The mirror showed deep shadows under his eyes. Great. He smelled like destruction and looked like exhaustion. Not to mention that he’d like to drop into a bed for about twelve hours. How was he going to be useful to Nick?

  He re-wet his hands and scrubbed some water through his hair, stretched his arms, and fixed his shirt. Okay. Ready to get back out there and make everything okay.

  Because that was his job.

  That’s who I am, Fletcher thought to himself.

  As he walked back into the lobby, he heard commotion at the intake desk. That was not at all unusual for an emergency room; Hadley’s voice at the center of it was unexpected.

  She stood by the front desk, Edison walking circles ar
ound her, tangling her legs in his leash.

  “No, I understand that I can’t bring him inside, but I also definitely can’t leave him in the car.”

  The triage nurse was unfazed at how completely adorable Hadley looked standing there being tied up by her enormous dog.

  “Have him sit and wait outside the door. He looks like he’ll stay warm enough.” The woman was inflexible.

  Hadley laughed, a note of hysteria creeping into the sound. “Warm is not the issue. Stay is the issue.”

  Rose approached Hadley from one side as Fletcher approached from the other. Reaching around Edison, Rose wrapped Hadley in a hug then took the leash handle and set to untangling Hadley’s legs.

  Fletcher offered the triage nurse what he was sure was his most winning smile. “Hi,” he said, hoping the Greensburg Fire logo on his jacket was obvious enough for this woman to see that the two of them were on the same team. “Is there a problem here?”

  The nurse, far from won over, pointed at Edison and then at the door.

  Rose extracted Hadley from the leash and got a slurpy kiss from Edison for her efforts. “Come on,” Rose said. “Let’s get you out of here.” She turned to Hadley. “We could both use a good leg-stretching. We’ll walk ourselves warm out there, because I’m pretty sure I can’t get him into my car.”

  “He’ll go anywhere you invite him, but you really don’t want him in your car. It may never recover. But Rose, you shouldn’t…” Hadley tried to protest, but Rose shook her head, smiled, and followed Edison out the sliding doors.

  “Tell me,” Hadley said, turning to Fletcher.

  Sure that she needed to hear the good news first, Fletcher said, “Savanna’s in with Nick. She hasn’t left his side.”

  Hadley gave a small grin. “I never saw that coming. What else?”

  Fletcher looked at the door where the nurses occasionally came through to talk to waiting families in the lobby. Nobody came, so he told her what he’d heard over the last couple of hours.

  “A beam came unhooked and he took a heavy hit to the back of his head. Knocked him over. The hit jarred some things, including his head and neck. There was a problem with the filter in his helmet, and he took in a lot of smoke.”

  “What’s the last thing they told you?” She looked smaller than usual. Fletcher realized it was because she was acting afraid, and Hadley Booth never acted afraid.

  “Concussion and smoke inhalation.”

  She nodded. “Okay.” She took a glance around. “And you haven’t been inside at all?”

  He shook his head. “One visitor at a time. It’s policy for the first twelve hours or something.” He pointed to the chairs. “Want to sit?”

  Hadley nodded and they moved to a quiet section of chairs.

  He needed to tell her a few more specifics, but he was worried that she’d get hysterical. He’d been so certain up until three days ago that Nick was in love with Hadley, he now realized he had no idea how Hadley might feel about Nick. If she was interested in him, this would all hurt her much more than if they were simply friends.

  Watching her face carefully for the moment that he gave her more than she could handle, Fletcher began.

  “He isn’t awake yet,” he said in a soft voice, as though the tone in which he delivered the news would somehow make it less horrifying.

  Her eyebrows came down in concern, but she didn’t stop him.

  “Since I’m a first responder, they’re telling me things they wouldn’t tell anyone else who isn’t family, but they’re not saying much about when they think he’ll wake. Or what might have changed.”

  Her eyes searched his face. “I don’t understand. What kind of thing might have changed?” she asked.

  He looked at the floor. “Head wounds are tricky,” he said. “They won’t know until he’s awake, but mobility, memory, function, all of those things are in question.”

  Hadley made a gasping noise in her throat. “Are you telling me,” she said in a frantic whisper, “that Nick may or may not wake up, and if he does, he could be a paralyzed amnesiac?”

  “Wow. That escalated quickly,” he said. “I was trying hard not to say any of those things. But I guess to some degree or another, those are some of the possibilities.”

  He put his hand on her shoulder. “I don’t want to scare you, Hadley. But I also don’t want you to be shocked by whatever happens. I’m really sorry.”

  She nodded as he talked, but when he finished, her eyebrows came together. “You’re sorry about what?”

  Fletcher wasn’t sure how to answer that. He didn’t really know why he’d said it, but as soon as he began to speak, the words tumbled out. “Sorry that I have to give you bad news. That any of this even happened. That I couldn’t protect him.”

  Now Hadley reached for Fletcher’s hands. She didn’t say anything, but left his words hanging in the air between them for a few minutes. Two or three times, she looked like she would say something, but she shook her head and kept quiet, studying Fletcher’s face. He had a hard time maintaining eye contact.

  Finally, he couldn’t hold her gaze any longer. “What?” he asked, looking past her shoulder.

  She squeezed his hands but said nothing, no longer looking at his face. She kept hold of his hands but stared at the floor.

  What was she thinking? Had he hurt her? Had he ruined something? Was she so worried about Nick that she couldn’t speak about it?

  After what felt like forever, he said, “Hadley? Can you talk to me?”

  When she looked up to meet his eyes, hers were full of tears.

  He slid his arm around her shoulder. “He’ll be okay,” he offered, even though he didn’t know it was true.

  She shook her head. “You don’t get it,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Fletch, it’s not your fault.” She took a deep breath. “It’s sad and scary to me that you think you somehow should have been able to anticipate this accident so you could have prevented it. That’s not your job.”

  He leaned away from her and crossed his arms over his chest, and as soon as he did, he realized that he was projecting all the wrong body language. He looked defensive, but he needed to be confident, sincere. He wanted her to really hear him. He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, held his fists together. “The problem is, that’s where you’re wrong. It’s exactly my job.”

  Seeing her confusion, he wished he was more eloquent, that he could use his words in a way that would make better sense to her. “I trained for years to know how buildings would react to fire damage. I trained for years to know how fire would react to pressure and wind and temperature. I am supposed to be able to anticipate accidents and prevent them. That is literally my job. And I didn’t do it.”

  She blinked and a tear slid down each cheek. He reached over and wiped them away.

  She looked up at him with an expression that might have held any number of emotions. He thought he saw more positive than negative. “That’s a lot of pressure,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he replied. “Great privilege, great responsibility, all that superhero stuff.”

  “But you love it, right?” Hadley sounded desperate to hear him say yes, so of course, he complied.

  “I do love it. It’s what I was meant to do.”

  “No matter what, no matter what other people say?”

  Fletcher had never pretended to be the most sensitive guy in the world, but he could feel the shift in their conversation. He could tell they weren’t only talking about his job anymore.

  He moved sideways in his chair so he faced Hadley more directly. “Passionate people live with the possibility that their actions will always disappoint or offend someone, but passionate people have to do what they were born to do.”

  “And you were born to save people.” Hadley’s voice choked on her words.

  “And you were born to bring them joy.”

  She blinked away more tears.

  He leaned closer. “Hadley, I’m sorry I
gave you a bad time about your store. I love it, you know. I think it’s about the most Hadley place in the world. And you’re amazing and creative and brave to put it all together. I made it sound like I think it’s weak. It’s not. You’re strong and your shop is strong. You’ve done something amazing.”

  Tears spilled from her eyes now, but her face was lit up with a smile. “How is it possible that you get me so well?” she asked.

  “I’ve always understood you,” he whispered.

  She wiped her face and shook her head. Looking at the floor, she said, “Not always.”

  Fletcher could tell she had more to add, but several moments passed before she spoke again. When she did, her voice was quiet.

  “You couldn’t have known how much it would break my heart when you left, or you wouldn’t have done it. I’m not sure I ever truly recovered.”

  Winded, Fletcher waited to hear her take it back.

  She didn’t.

  “Hang on a minute,” Fletcher said, raising her head so she had to look at him. “You’re the one who left.” He kept his voice low, but she had to hear the pain there.

  “No. You broke up with me. You said goodbye. You decided we were over.”

  All of these words came at Fletcher like shrapnel from a blast. Each accusation burned a new hole in his skin, leaving him feeling scathed and vulnerable.

  “Is that really what you think?”

  Hadley stood, stepping away from him.

  When she spoke, her voice was brittle. “It’s not a matter of opinion, Fletcher. You came to my place. You told me that we were through. You never called me again.” The tears in her eyes were overpowered by the anger in her expression. “It’s not exactly a debatable topic.”

  “But—” he began. How was it even possible that she could see things this way?

  She stopped him. “Let’s be grownups about this. It’s been seven years. You’ve moved on. I’ve made a life for myself. We are what we are, and we can’t be what we chose not to be.” She turned away and walked toward the intake desk.

  “Hadley, wait,” he said.

  She shook her head and kept walking.

  He jumped out of his seat and strode after her. Before she made it to the triage nurses, he took hold of her arm.