by Jaci Burton
“And maybe he’s ready to move on. Maybe he’s seeing someone else.”
Her grandfather shook his head. “Why does your mind go there first thing? You know Rafe is nothing like Tod.”
She didn’t know that. Okay, she did. But she couldn’t help but have those thoughts. Or maybe he was losing interest in her.
“You should go over there and talk to him.”
“I don’t know. If he wanted to talk to me, he’d call or text or come over. He obviously doesn’t want to see me.”
“It could be that something’s wrong and you need to go find out what it is.”
And get her heart broken? No, thanks. She turned back to the sink she’d been scrubbing before her mind had started to wander.
“Carmen.”
“What?”
“Go talk to him. You’ll drive yourself crazy until you get answers.”
She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Maybe.”
“Now.”
“Fine.” She rinsed the sink and dried her hands. “But only so we don’t have to keep talking about it.”
Grandpa was looking down at his cards. “Whatever you think is best.”
Oh, right. As if he hadn’t manipulated the entire conversation.
She went into her room, freshened up a bit, then headed out the front door, feeling ridiculous because her pulse was racing.
What was the worst thing that could happen? He’d slam the door in her face? She didn’t think Rafe would do that, but then again, who knew with men? They were entirely unpredictable, and often untrustworthy.
She sucked in a deep breath, released it, then rang the doorbell.
And waited.
No answer. Maybe he wasn’t home. His truck was there, but it was the only vehicle parked in the driveway. Maybe he’d gone somewhere with one of his brothers.
Finally, though, the door opened and Rafe stood there. He looked unkempt and awful, like he hadn’t slept in days.
“Oh. Hey, Carmen.”
“Rafe. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
She waited for him to invite her in. He didn’t, which only irritated her more. But she was also concerned about the state of his appearance, so the caring side of her was having a deep war with the part of her that was very pissed off at him.
“Mind if I come in?” she finally asked.
“Sure.” He stepped aside and held the door for her.
She walked past him, waiting for him to shut the door. He raked his fingers through his hair. “I was playing a video game.”
As if that explained him completely ignoring her for days.
She followed him into the kitchen.
“Want something to drink?” he asked.
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
“Okay.”
He stood there, leaning against the kitchen island, as if he was waiting for her to do something or state her business.
So. Irritating.
“Rafe. You haven’t spoken a sentence to me in three days. You haven’t called or texted me. What’s going on?”
He looked down at his bare feet. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
He smelled like he hadn’t showered. His hair was a wild mess, he had beard stubble all over his face and his shorts and T-shirt were wrinkled as if he’d slept in them. In short, he was a hot mess. And that just wasn’t like Rafe at all.
Worst of all, there were dark circles shadowed under his eyes. Something was definitely wrong.
She stepped up to him and laid her hand on his forearm. “You’re not fine. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I already told you. It’s nothing.” He pulled his arm away and went to the fridge to grab a beer.
“Rafe. It’s not even noon.”
“So?”
She took the beer from his hand and placed it on the counter. She retrieved a glass from the cabinet, filled it with ice and water and handed it to him. “ So . . . talk to me.”
She saw the misery on his face. He took several deep swallows of the water, then laid the glass down. “It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got the time.” She grasped his hand, grabbed the glass of water and led him into the living room. She pulled him down on the sofa so he was seated next to her.
Then she waited, wanting to give him the time to open up to her.
For a couple of minutes he didn’t say anything, just stared down at their hands clasped together.
“There was a fire the other day at an apartment building. I covered lead along with some of my other team members. We got into the main apartment where the fire had broken out, extinguished the flames. Found one person in the master bedroom, dead.”
She squeezed his hand. She’d seen fire victims in the ER before. It was devastating. She couldn’t imagine what he’d seen there.
“It was a young woman. We didn’t get there in time to save her.”
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Rafe.”
He looked up at her, his eyes filled with tears. “We’ve had fatalities on calls before. I don’t know why this one bothers me so much.”
She rubbed his arm. “Chances are she was already gone before you even arrived on the scene. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I’ve been debriefed and talked to the counselor and the chaplain. That’s what they both told me. Doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I still see her in my head when I try to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, she’s right there. I can’t make it go away.”
“And you probably won’t be able to. Not right away. Not for a while. But eventually, it’ll pass.”
He frowned at her. “So what am I supposed to do?”
“Live with it. It’s part of your job. Sometimes we lose people. And sometimes it’s horrible.”
He looked defeated. “It fucking sucks.”
“Yes. It does. That part of it does definitely suck. But how many lives have you saved, Rafe? How many people have you pulled out of the wreckage of a vehicle? How many people have you saved from a burning building?”
“No clue.” He shrugged, as if that didn’t matter.
It did matter. It was everything. She needed to make him see that.
“When your mind wants to go to that dark place, think about the lives you’ve saved instead of focusing on the one you lost.”
“She was twenty-one, working the night shift at a restaurant while she juggled college classes. She was just starting out, Carmen. And now her life is over.”
Carmen’s heart ached for the loss. And for Rafe’s pain. “It hurts. I know it hurts. But you can’t dwell on this. If you do, it’ll destroy you. Look at what you’ve done the past few days. You’re way in your head, babe, and you’ve got to climb out.”
He sighed, then tilted his head to stare at her. “I guess you’re right.”
“I know I’m right. You forget where I work. I see death every day. Burn victims, missing limbs, paralyzed victims, suicide attempts, domestic violence, gunshots, drug overdoses. You name it, it comes through my ER.”
He rubbed his thumb over hers. “How do you deal with all of it?”
“At first I didn’t. My first year in the ER, I came home and cried nearly every day. And then, thanks to a very kind supervisor on my floor who taught me well, I learned to steel myself, to not get emotionally involved. I was no good to my patients if I fell apart. I was no good to their families if they saw me crying over what happened to the people they loved. My job is to see to their care. My job ends when I walk out the door at the end of my shift. I’ll never last as an ER nurse if I take it home with me every day. It’ll end my career. I had to learn that fast.”
She rubbed his arm. “You have to learn to leave it at the station at the end of your shift, too, Rafe. Or it’ll take you, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left of you. And then the job you love will end up becoming the job you hate.”
He finally straightened and shifted to face her. “But how do you not feel?�
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“I didn’t say I don’t feel anything. I have empathy for all my patients. I just don’t have an emotional attachment to any of them. My job is to help them, to provide care for them to the best of my abilities. But I don’t get involved with them, with their lives or with their emotions. My patients need me to be damn good at my job, and that’s what I give them. They don’t need someone to love them. They need someone to help make them well.
“Your victims don’t need you to fall apart. They need you to put out the fire, pull the ones who are alive from a smoky building, rescue them from the wreckage of a vehicle, or the countless other things you do every day. That woman who died the other day? She has family to mourn her. It was an awful tragedy. But . . . you saved other lives that day by putting out that fire. Other families will be able to move back into that building and go on with their lives because of what you did. That’s the part you have to focus on. The other part? You have to let it go.”
He nodded. “You’re right. Thanks for talking me through it.”
“You’re welcome. But I still think you need to continue the counseling, because it’s not going to go away in a day.”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. I guess so, since this one seems to be lingering.”
She nodded. “It will. Until you get to the place where you can accept it and move forward.”
“I guess sometimes this will happen.”
“It happens to all of us who care for people. It happens to me sometimes and I have people that I go talk to. Our jobs aren’t easy.”
He blew out a breath. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”
She swept her hand over his jaw. “I’m glad I could help.”
“Yeah, more than you know. I guess I need to take a shower. And eat.”
“You go shower. I’ll fix you some food.”
“You sure?”
She nodded.
“Thanks. I won’t be long.”
“Take your time. You might need to do some extra scrubbing. You kind of smell.”
He smiled, and good God, it was nice to see that smile on his face again.
He stood and sighed, then disappeared upstairs.
Carmen went to the fridge, pulled out some eggs, a ham steak and fruit. She threw the ham steak into the skillet to start frying. While that was cooking, she sliced some strawberries and added blueberries and blackberries to a bowl. Then she cracked the eggs and whisked them in a bowl, set it aside and sliced some green peppers and onions. When the ham was done cooking, she chopped it up, mixed it with the eggs and vegetables and tossed them all in the skillet together to whip up an omelet. She added cheese at the end, folded it over and slid it onto a plate, then put the fruit salad into a cup.
She heard the door open, and Rafe came downstairs looking a lot more like—Rafe. He wore a clean pair of navy shorts and a powder blue tank.
He came up next to her. “You made an omelet?”
“I did.” She handed him the plate. “You smell a lot better. And you shaved.”
“Yeah.” He took the plate from her, then looked around. “You’re not eating?”
“I had a big breakfast with my grandfather this morning. I’ll eat some of this fruit.”
She sat with him at the kitchen table, happy to see him devouring the omelet and the fruit while she casually scooped up some of the fruit salad.
“This is really good,” he said in between mouthfuls.
“Glad you like it.” She’d also poured him a large glass of mango juice, which he greedily emptied, making her wonder when he’d last eaten a decent meal. Now she was happy she’d made the omelet oversize.
When he finished, he took his plate to the sink and cleaned up all the dishes, something that made Carmen think he might be on the mend, especially since he nudged her out of the way when she tried to help. He told her to go sit and relax.
Once he was done with cleanup, he grabbed another glass of juice and came to sit beside her.
“So, what have you been up to?” he asked.
“Mostly being pissed off at you.”
He cocked a brow. “Yeah? Why?”
“You were in pain and you blew me off.”
He shrugged. “I internalize when I’m upset.”
She shook her head. “That’s not going to work for me, Rafe. The last guy who held secrets from me was my ex, and it was because he was fucking someone else.”
Rafe gave her a look. “Carmen. I’m not with anyone else.”
“And how was I supposed to know that? I called you to invite you to dinner at my house, and you said you were busy. I texted you and you ignored me. Put yourself in my place. If the shoe was on the other foot, what would you think?”
He started to answer, then stopped. “Okay, you have a point. But how many times do I have to tell you that I’m not your ex? I’m never going to act like him, or treat you like he did. So stop comparing me to him. That’s not fair.”
Now it was her turn to blurt out a reply, and then hold back for an instant as his words sunk in. “You’re right. I’ve been holding you to this low standard left by my asshole ex for way too long. And for that, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
He nodded. “Thanks.”
“But you can’t shut me out when you’re feeling shitty. We won’t have a relationship if we don’t communicate with each other.” She swept her hand along the side of his face. “It can’t only be the good times we share, Rafe. We have to be willing to share the bad ones, too, you know?”
He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Yes, I do know. I should have let you in. I’d have felt a hell of a lot better a hell of a lot sooner if I’d just come to you and told you what happened. I’m sorry, Carmen. It won’t happen again.”
She felt the sincerity in his words and in his apology. Words hovered on her tongue. Important, monumental words that scared the hell out of her. She wasn’t ready to say them. Not yet. Not until she was certain she was going to hear them back.
“Thank you. Are you feeling better?” she asked.
“Much.”
“Good. So how about that invitation to have dinner with my grandfather and me? It’s still open. And Felice is coming over tonight.”
“Oh yeah?” He leaned back against the sofa. “And how’s that going?”
“Surprisingly well, actually. She came over the night I invited you. She’s very sweet.”
“I’d love to come over for dinner. Thanks for inviting me—again. And for forgiving me.” He pulled her onto his lap, his fingers splaying over her hips. “Now. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
She laid her palms on his chest, realizing how much she’d missed the feel of his strength and heat, and never failing to be surprised at how fast he could fire up her desires.
“Where’s the rest of the fam?”
“Becks is at work. Jackson is having his truck detailed. Kal is doing a training session.”
Knowing that they were alone sparked her up. She realized it had been days, and she needed him inside her.
“Then yes, Rafe. Sex. Right now. Right here. I need you.” She suddenly found herself flipped over onto her back on the sofa. Rafe kneeled between her legs, his hands on her knees, spreading them apart.
“I need to get a condom.”
She was throbbing, aching for him. “Then go. And hurry up.”
After he left, she shimmied out of her shorts and underwear. She was about to take off her tank top, but he had already gotten back.
“That was fast,” she said.
He dropped his shorts and boxer briefs, his cock erect and painfully beautiful. “I missed you the past few days.”
“Same.” She pulled off her tank and bra, tossing them to the floor.
Rafe slipped on the condom and lowered her to the sofa.
She wrapped her legs around his hips. “I don’t need foreplay. I’m ready for you now.”
“That’s good, because I’m rock-hard and aching for y
ou,” he said. He slid inside her with one thrust, making her gasp from the searing intensity of the way her body responded to him.
He bent his head to kiss her, and she whimpered, not able to get close enough to him as he moved within her. She dug her heels into his back as he drove deeper, harder, seemingly needing this as much as she did. The leather sofa soon grew slick with their sweat as they slid together in wild abandon, lost in each other and in the sensations. The way he touched her, moving his hands over her breasts, down the side of her rib cage, then gripping her hip as he rolled against her.
His tongue flicked against her earlobe.
“Me encanta estar dentro de ti.”
I love being inside you.
His whispered words sparked an orgasm so intense she nearly cried from the pure joy of it. But instead, she cried out his name and surged against him, shaking as her climax rolled on and on.
He thrust hard and came, his entire body vibrating with his orgasm, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled her tight against him, his face buried in her neck.
She panted, catching her breath, for the first time since she seemingly lost her mind with lust, suddenly aware that they were only a short distance from the front door. And she was totally naked and utterly stuck to the leather sofa.
“We need to get unstuck,” she said.
He lifted his head and looked down at her, smiling. “I don’t know. I kind of like being stuck to you.”
She splayed her palms on his chest. “I mean my ass is stuck to the sofa.”
“Okay.” He disengaged, then stood, helping her up.
She grabbed her clothes and dashed into the downstairs bathroom to clean up. She really needed a shower, but that wasn’t going to be possible right now. She grabbed a washcloth and went into the living room to wipe down the sofa. When she was done, Rafe was leaning against the doorway.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Wiping down the sweat from the sofa.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Want something to drink?”
“A tall glass of ice water would be amazing.”
“Sure.” He pushed off the wall, and she followed him into the kitchen, tossing the washcloth into the laundry room on her way.
He handed her a glass of ice water. They sat at the kitchen island together. She took several sips of the water. “Thank you,” she said.