by Kathryn Shay
Stacey poured coffee and turned to lean against the counter. Sipping the tart brew, she remembered when Cora had discovered her husband was cheating and had been embarrassed as hell. Stacey had been a staunch supporter through all of it, even when she’d decided not to end the marriage. Was what had transpired with Nick more embarrassing than that?
“I threw myself at Nick Evans last night. Literally. I forced him to kiss me. Asked him to come home with me. He wasn’t interested.”
“Well, first off, you can’t force anybody to kiss you. Did he try to get away from you?”
Stacey frowned. “No, when I told him to kiss me once”—she rolled her eyes— “he said he couldn’t stop at one kiss.”
“I knew it. From how he looks at you. What went wrong?”
She told him about his excuses: he was too old, wasn’t good enough for her, she was freaking wholesome.
“Stace, why don’t you believe that? His reaction could have nothing to do with this unwarranted insecurity you have about yourself as a woman.”
“He did say he’d done some awful things in his life.”
“So take his word as truth. How did you leave it?”
“I told him not to contact me for a while except about the party. We’d do any business by email.”
“That was stupid. How are you going to convince him that you’re good together by staying away?”
“I’m not jumping back into that fire, Cora.”
“Honey, he’s the first man you’ve showed any interest in since Jess died. Doesn’t he deserve a second chance?”
“He doesn’t want a second chance.”
“The hell he doesn’t. He’s being noble.”
“Cora, no means no for men, too.”
She shrugged a delicate shoulder. “Okay, if you want to give up that easily. But I wouldn’t.”
“No, you probably wouldn’t. But it’s too much of a risk for me. I’ll find somebody else when I’m ready to try again.”
“That’s a real shame.”
“It’s safe. That’s what I want now.”
“ALL RIGHT, LISTEN up people.” Nick faced the Rescue Squad and Quint and Midi crews for today’s training out in the bay. Most people didn’t know firefighters trained in some area of firematics or medicine every day. “The department is buying new harnesses and they want our house to be their guinea pigs.” He held up a black harness with a series of loops for the legs and waist.
“Looks like a new sex toy to me.”
“Yeah, Gallagher, you use many of those?”
His legs stretched out in front of him at the scarred oak table, Riley snorted. “Eat your heart out, Ames.”
Ordinarily Nick got a kick out of their banter, participated sometimes. But not today. “All right, pull your minds out of the gutter. These babies are two hundred bucks a pop. We’re gonna be the test case.”
“Hell,” Cordaro said. “The Rescue Squad uses them the most. What if they fail?”
“The change is mostly in comfort and fit. We’re to see if they’re better than the old ones.”
Grumbling. What was with them today? “Lisa Beth, since you seem to be the only one taking this seriously, would you hand them out?”
She gave him a sympathetic look and started forward.
“Hey, can she fit them in our crotches?” This from McCabe, her paramedic partner. “I’d be all for it then.”
“Jesus Christ!” Nick snapped. “Can’t you take anything seriously? Don’t you know she could sue you for sexual harassment for that comment?”
At their snickers, Nick threw down the harness and propped his hands on his hips. “Do what you fucking want,” he said and stormed off.
The day didn’t get any better. The entire house was called to a fire at a condominium and Nick had gotten embers under his Nomex gloves, which had stung like hell. Then Cordaro had to go home because his wife was sick. Nick always let his guys go in case of emergency, but he’d made an ass of himself asking if somebody else couldn’t take care of her. At least he’d apologized and sent Cordaro on his way.
An hour before shift ended, he headed to the workout room, which smelled like dirty gym clothes. The two guys in there left as soon as he entered. Jesus, even his men were running from him. After opening a window, he approached the punching bag, put on gloves and began to hit it. Hard. He’d just worked up a real sweat when Tony Ramirez came in. Nick respected the guy and they’d become friends after Tony was reassigned to Nick’s group. He nodded and kept punching.
Ramirez came in closer. “I drew the short straw this time.” The comment only reminded Nick of Stacey—and the short straw which had started all this. He thought of what he’d done because he couldn’t control his attraction to her. Nick punched harder. “What do you mean, Ramirez?”
Reaching out, Tony stilled the bag. “Something’s eating you, Nick. I’ve never seen you like this. You been snapping at people for days, making stupid decisions and alienating everybody on all three squads. That is so not you.”
Nick stepped back from the bag. “Maybe it is. Maybe that’s the real me and I been fooling all of you?”
“How long you been in the department?”
“Fifteen years.”
“A long time to keep up a front.”
“Hey, it’s like flashover. Things build and build and then burst into flames all on their own.”
“Bullshit.”
Suddenly weary to the bone, Nick stepped back from the bag and blew out a heavy breath. “Okay, I got woman problems.”
Tony’s brows raised. “She isn’t interested?”
“No, she’s damn interested. Long story why I can’t be.”
Tony edged his hip on a nearby stool. “You’ve had this sadness about you, this sobriety, since I’ve known you. Is whatever causes that why you can’t see her?”
Nick nodded.
“Ever get any help for it?”
“In a convoluted way, I have.” He’d gone to the police chief in NYC. Will Rossettie, his dad’s friend.
“Maybe you should try again.”
“No. I just need to live with it.”
Tony stood. “Well, buddy, you’ve totally blown it this week. Think about what I said about counseling. Flashover is one of the most dangerous things in firefighting. Living with the fire building inside of you all the time, ready to erupt, has got to be tough.”
The PA crackled overhead. “Fire on Lincoln Avenue. Rescue Squad 7, go into service.”
Nick was glad they’d gotten a call. He didn’t want to talk about himself anymore. He wanted to forget what he’d done fifteen years ago.
“WELL, THAT’S DAMN silly.” Stacey and Faith were having dinner at Villa Lucano a week after her thing…she couldn’t even call it a relationship…with Nick ended. Stacey was past the embarrassment stage and on to the feeling-bad stage.
“Maybe so, Faith,” Stacey responded, rubbing a finger over the red-and-white-checked tablecloth and staring at the wine-bottle candle in the center. “But it’s what he said.”
She shook her head. “I meant your insecurities.”
“Easy for you to say. You don’t seem to have any feelings of doubt.” Funny, she’d only now noticed that Faith, with her waist-length blond hair and sparkling blue eyes, was wholesome and healthy looking, and Stacey found her feminine.
“I do. I did, anyway.” She cocked her head thoughtfully. “Did you know Rick told me pretty much the same thing before we got together—that I was too good and innocent for him? What’s with men?”
“Protector genes are hardwired in all of the good ones, I guess. You’re so happy now, I can’t believe you had such a rough start.”
“I thought I’d lost him. It was a horrible time in my life.”
“How’d you get together?”
“He came to his senses. A lot of things happened to him in the past. I forced him to tell me. We worked out a relationship after that.”
“Nick says he did terrible things.”
/> “There’s terrible and there’s terrible.”
“I know. I can’t imagine what it could be, but whatever’s got him so down on himself, he shouldn’t have to pay for it for the rest of his life.” She shook her head and picked up the menu. “Let’s stop talking about this. It’s ruining my appetite.”
They were halfway through cheesy fettuccine Alfredo and asparagus when someone came up to their table. Stacey practically choked on her food when she looked up at Nick. “I saw you when I came in.” His face was lined with fatigue and his pretty green eyes were bleak. I’m meeting Will Rossettie here.” He nodded to Faith. “I know he and Rick are close. How are you, Faith?”
“Really good.” Her eyes got a mischievous sparkle. “You?”
“I’ve been better.” He faced Stacey. “Hi, Stace.”
“Nick.”
“You look tired.”
Shit, what was he doing? She didn’t want his solicitousness. “I am tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’ll get over it, no worries.” She glanced pointedly at her food.
He actually shifted from one foot to another like some teenage boy. “Oh, your meal’s getting cold. I, um, didn’t want to ignore you.”
“Thanks for stopping by.”
After he left to go to his table, Faith shook her head. “He looked at you as if you’re tonight’s dessert.”
“Faith, did you fight for Rick?”
“Yes, for a while. But in the end he had to come to grips with the whole thing alone.” She glanced over at Nick, who was seated in a corner by himself. “Maybe he will, too.”
Stacey didn’t respond. She didn’t think Nick would change his mind and she’d be damned if she’d get her hopes up.
“HEY, SON, HOW are you?” Will Rossettie dropped down in the chair across from Nick.
“Hey, Will. Wow, retirement agrees with you.”
“Lost thirty pounds, am walkin’ every day.” He winked. “I’m even dating.” Nick knew his wife had died soon after he’d come here.
“What about you? Any women on the horizon?”
His gaze strayed to a table across the way. Stacey looked good tonight. She wore a pink two-piece outfit, and the color shouldn’t go with that hair, which she’d straightened so it came way past the middle of her back.
“Almost, but it didn’t work out.” The words came out hoarse and…yearning.
“Sorry to hear that.”
They each ordered a Scotch. When it came, Nick took a slug and the tart taste jolted him. Sipping his own, Will stared over at Nick the way he always did when he was going to lecture. “You know, nothing’s gonna be right until you get rid of the albatross that’s been around your neck for the last fifteen years.”
“Why is everybody telling me that?” His voice raised a notch.
“Because it’s true.” Will’s eyes blazed with anger. “You made a mistake. You’ve paid in guilt for years. You gotta let it go, Nick.”
“I can’t.”
“You know, I’m involved here. I remember the circumstances.”
“You were right in what you told me. I don’t blame you for any of this.”
“Yeah, but you can’t let yourself off the hook.”
His gaze strayed to Stacey; the lights from above bounced off of her hair. “I wish I could, Will, I really wish I could.”
“PASSENGER GETTING OFF the train at Culver Station fell onto the tracks. Rescue, Quint and Midi, House 7, go into service.”
They all bounded out of bed. Nick took a quick glance at the clock as he dragged on his uniform pants and shirt. Midnight. “Must be the last train from the city.”
Ramirez nodded. “I hate train-track calls. They’re always complicated.”
They reached the rig in three minutes, were on the road in four and arrived at Culver Station six minutes after the call had come in. A group of lingering passengers waited on the track, which was about five feet below the platform. Nick edged his way to the front. “Langston and Cordaro, get these people back, then talk to them about what happened. We can’t wait, though. She’s in trouble.”
A woman lay on the tracks, with an arm twisted at an odd angle. Her head was bleeding. “I’m going down to assess the situation.”
“McCabe and I should come too, Cap.” This from Lisa Beth.
Something niggled at Nick, some hunch that he should go alone. “No, let me determine a course of action.” Without waiting, he sat on the edge of the platform, turned around and shimmied down the five feet into the cave of the tracks. It was eerie down here, smelled obtrusively of gasoline and oil. The feeling of concern spiked. Squatting next to the victim, he checked her pulse. “She’s alive. Let’s—”
Riley Gallagher rushed to the edge of the tracks. “Nick, the other passengers said this isn’t the last train. Another comes a half hour from when this one arrived.”
“Then we better hurry. Hand me down a neck brace and a backboard. I’ll strap her on and you can lift her out.” He cocked his head. “How much time do we have before the train?”
“Fifteen minutes.” This from Ramirez. “Langston’s back there trying to get the engine conductor on the phone.”
Nick caught the neck brace first and strapped it on the woman. Then he saw it. Her right hand had gotten wedged in the tracks. He tried to slide it out. “I need a pry tool to get this part of the track up.”
“I’m coming down with it,” Ames said.
“No, Bilky. That’s an order. No more lives in danger. I can do this.”
Reluctantly, Ames handed him the ax; he hooked the end under the wood and yanked. Nothing. He tried again, aware of the minutes passing. Langston should have the train stopped by now. But Nick still felt a growing sense of unease.
Finally the board on the track popped up, hitting Nick in the head. “Jesus.”
“You okay, Cap?” This from Ames again.
“Yeah. Give me the backboard.”
He took it, dragged the woman onto it and strapped her in. Then he realized his problem. “One person can’t lift this thing. Fuck!”
Ames didn’t ask this time. He slid down onto the tracks, too. “You got the hardest head,” he said taking one end of the backboard as Nick took the other. The two of them angled it up and his guys pulled the woman to safety.
Both men placed their arms on the platform and were about to hoist themselves up when Nick heard the abrasive horn of the last train barreling down the tracks.
MAYBE THERE WAS a benefit to being young, happy and healthy, which Nick had been right about. Two weeks after the night at Badges, Stacey was feeling better. He was only a man. One she could forget with the passage of time. She’d gone out for a run when Cora had arrived for work, had picked up a latte and now came inside through the front door of the store. Huh, no one was at the desk. “Cora, where are you?”
“Back here. I’ll be out in a minute.”
It was unlike Cora to leave the desk unattended. Stacey circled behind the counter, then glanced around. She could see the top of someone’s head in one of the aisles and thought it even more odd that Cora had gone to the back with a patron in the store.
Sipping her latte, she turned to the computer. She called up her email and was excited to see two from potential customers she’d notified about new books. She clicked into the first one. “Hurray! He wants to buy.”
“So do I.” The deep baritone was familiar. And sexy. Her heart started to beat at a clip even before she looked up. There he stood in jeans, a navy pullover sweater and what passed for a smile on his face.
“Excuse me?”
“I want to buy these books.” Again, he shifted from one foot to another, seeming nervous. “I thought they might help me.”
Damn him. Hers was the only bookstore in town, but he could have gotten these purchases online. It was cruel for him to come here, when she was finally starting to feel better.
“Of course.” She turned the books to
face her. Lifting her hand to the cash register, she caught sight of the title of the first one. 100 Ways To Say You’re Sorry.
“Into self-help books these days?” she asked snarkily. “I’d say you need them. Who’d you piss off this time?”
“You.” He said the word simply.
She gave him a distrusting glance and wrung up the purchase. The next was titled Getting Rid of the Guilt for Good. Her gaze snapped to his and he shrugged.
“Look at the last one. It’s for you.”
The next book’s title was Understanding Men. Good Luck With That. Forcefully she battled back a smile. “Let me get this straight. You think you can walk in here and make everything okay by buying a few stupid books.”
“No. I’ve been thinking about you nonstop. I want a second chance.”
Lifting her chin, she stared him down. “I’m not sure I want to give you another chance to hurt me again.” Which, she was surprised to find, was true.
“I was afraid you’d say that. I’m buying these books to help myself so I don’t hurt people I care about. I’m thinking about getting some counseling. Is that enough?”
She watched him for a minute, mentally deciding to put her emotional poker chips all-in. “I’m afraid not.” She picked up the book Getting Rid of the Guilt. “You’ll have to tell me what you did that’s so unconscionable that it made you shy away from relationships. Then maybe I’ll give you a second chance.”
Right before her eyes, he closed down. His face blanked and his posture stiffened a lot like it had that night at Badges. “I can’t tell you, Stace. I don’t have to. We can—”
She held up her hand. “It’s a deal breaker. I’m not getting into a relationship with you and then have whatever the hell that’s eating you come to bite us in the ass.”
“You won’t want a relationship with me if I tell you.”
“God, Nick, you have to get over this patronizing attitude toward me. I’m a grown woman. I make my own decisions. I think what’s between us can go somewhere important, but all the cards have to be on the table.” She reached out and grabbed his hand. “Trust me, Nick.”