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Joe grins. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
I let him help himself to a cookie, then I walk into the kitchen and set the plate down on the counter. Just then, I hear one of the firetrucks pull into the station. Knowing that my husband is probably on the truck, I head over to the apparatus bay to greet him.
As I watch the men get out of the fire truck, I can tell they just came back from a stressful call. There’s a certain look on their faces, and they’re carrying the heady smell of smoke on their turnout gear. My heartbeat quickens with anxiety as I wait for Thorne to get out of the truck.
The driver’s side door of the fire truck opens, and my husband’s oversized frame climbs down. He wears the same somber expression as the rest of his crew.
“Thorne,” I say, rushing up to him.
When he sees me, warmth comes into his eyes. “Hey, sweetheart.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
He rubs a soot-smudged hand across his chin. “No. There was someone we didn’t reach in time.”
“Oh, honey,” I say, devastated. I squeeze his arm. “I’m so sorry.”
“I need to clean up,” he says, looking away from me.
I nod and watch with an aching heart as he walks out of the apparatus bay. I know Thorne is probably blaming himself right now for not being able to save that person from the fire, and all I want to do is comfort him, but I also know that the best thing right now is to give him some space.
Feeling like I’m in the way, I move aside. I can hear the rest of the crew talking about the fire, and how out of control it was. And even though it’s all over, the more I hear about it, the more anxious it makes me feel. Intellectually, I know that Thorne constantly puts his life at risk to save others, but I’ve never felt so close to it as I do right now.
I slip out of the apparatus bay and walk down the hallway to the men’s sleeping quarters. Thorne’s door is ajar and I can tell he’s not in there—he’s probably still in the shower—so I let myself in. I turn on the lamp beside his bed and lay down on my side, my hand automatically coming to rest on my pregnant belly.
Thorne comes in a few minutes later. I can smell the fresh, clean scent of his body wash as he enters the room. He closes the door behind him, then slowly comes over to the bed and lies down next to me.
“If only we’d gotten there a few minutes sooner,” he mutters.
“I’m sorry, Thorne,” I say softly.
He lets out a long breath. “I’ll be okay. I’m just angry about it.”
I curl up against him and rub a hand slowly over his chest.
“How’s the baby?” he eventually asks.
“Fine,” I say. I pause, wondering if I should tell him about earlier. I don’t want to worry him, but I don’t want to hide anything from him, either. “I had some more contractions today.”
He looks at me with protective concern. “We need to get you in to see another doctor.”
“I like Dr. Gina,” I say.
“I don’t dislike her. But I don’t like that you’re having these painful contractions.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, Thorne.”
“Well, I’d feel better if we had two doctors telling us that instead of one.”
I continue to rub my hand over Thorne’s muscular chest. “Slight change of subject, but what do you think about the name Val, if it’s a girl?”
“Short for Valerie?” Thorne asks.
I smile up at him. “Or Valentina.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “I like it.”
“You don’t think she’ll be teased for having a name like that, do you?” I ask.
