We're home probably ten minutes before I hear someone roll up outside. I'm in the recliner, leg out and head back, and still trying to cool down from the heat of the day combined with the sweat of exertion. The AC is cranked and blowing, but between getting out of the car and then out of the wheelchair into the recliner, I feel like I've finished a marathon. Twice.
How is it possible to get so weak so fast? I hate to admit it, but my muscles are shaking and sore just from the little bit of exercise I've had.
This? This is not okay. And puts me even farther behind when it comes to returning to duty. How weak will I be after months in a cast? Will I get my range of movement back in my shoulder and neck? Reaching for Lindsey's hand earlier had cost me, and my shoulder and back are throbbing as a result.
A knock sounds at the door. Dani and Lindsey exit Dani's bedroom hand in hand to go answer it. Once we'd gotten inside and me in the chair, Dani had dragged Lindsey off to play.
I crank an eyelid to see who it is and attempt to muster some enthusiasm for my visitors.
Gabe steps inside, greeting Dani and Lindsey with a smile. He moves past them into the room when I hear Sully make a flirty remark about needing to break his leg so Lindsey can take care of him.
I give Sully my best glare, but he ignores me and continues to flirt with Lindsey. She's beautiful, no doubt about it. But I also think Sully's on such a comedic roll because firefighters get nervous when faced with the reality of their job. And me?
I'm that nonmobile reality, burns, broken bones and all.
But at least I'm not in the hospital anymore.
I'll swallow every freaking pill without protest to combat infection if it means staying out of that place. Or worse, having to go to a live-in rehab. A few weeks confined to a hospital bed was more than enough.
"McCallum!" Sully says when he finally takes his eyes off my—off Lindsey.
"Hey, Sully. What's your ugly mug doing here? Shouldn't you be at the Pelican by now?" None of us could understand why Sully had suddenly developed a fondness for the greasy food at the Pelican, a combination dive bar and restaurant, but it wasn't long before we realized his fascination had more to do with the woman working the bar part-time in the late evenings—Violet Calloway.
"I'm not a stalker," he counters, sliding Lindsey a flirty glance. "It's close to my house and has good food."
"Yeah, that's why."
"Boys," Gabe says in his best chief's voice. "Now's not the time to be bickering. Kace, how are you doing? I'm sorry we got here too late to help you inside. The guys had a beach call. A four-year-old boy in a riptide."
"Did he make it?" I ask softly.
Gabe and Sully share another look, and I know there's more to the story. The bad kind of more.
"The kid's good," Sully says pointedly, sliding a glance at Dani.
"Hey, Dani," I say, "go to your room and grab your dinosaur pillow for me, would you? For my leg?"
"Okay, Daddy."
Dani takes off, and once she's out of range, Sully adds, "The dad died trying to save the boy. The lifeguards brought them in as we rolled up, but CPR couldn't bring him back."
It happens far too often on a beach every single year, but it never gets any easier. A happy family vacation turns into a nightmare, and the family is never the same. Left facing the same trip back home, reeling from grief and minus their loved ones. "Where were they from?"
"Here, actually," Gabe says. "The mom said they were playing right next to the shore because they saw the rip sign and thought they'd be fine. Then the kid ran to retrieve a toy and went down when a wave came in. He got sucked out, and Dad went after him. Happened fast."
"Always does," I mutter. My thoughts instantly turn to Dani and Mads. I've raised Dani as a beach native with all the warnings brought to my attention by my job, but she's a kid, and I wonder if the warnings will ever be enough. Ever sink in enough to keep her safe.
Now I have another worry. Madi is new to the area, and her arrival and all the drama that's come from settling in has left me reeling and neglectful. I've been lax in talking to her about safety stuff. That changes today. After the guys leave. After a nap. And after the family talk this evening.
"Lindsey, how's our patient? Is he giving you any trouble?" Gabe asks.
Gabe seems to sense my darkening mood and changes the subject. Not that it helps. I glance at the clock on the kitchen wall and wonder when Madi's shift ends at the bookstore.
"Not yet," she says, smiling. "But I'm sure that'll change with time."
I do a double take at the smile because that mischievous sparkle is back, at least momentarily. But it does far more to distract me from the frustrating desire to gather up my girls and go into dad mode as far as protecting them when I can't even shift in the chair without pain. Right now, I can't sit without pain. I feel like a grumbly bear with sore paws, and it makes me angry. Angrier.
"Well, you let me know if he gives you any trouble," Sully says. "I'll be over in a flash to set him straight and lend you a hand."
