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“Yes.” I lean down, pressing my face into his neck, as I moan my release. He bites my shoulder as he begins shuddering.
As I come down from the high, I hope I never have to know what it’s like to not have this again.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
Cameron
“Look at you,keeping that desk chair warm.” I’m in a great mood since I spent the night with Nat in my arms. Did I fuck up because I convinced her brother we’re not together? Maybe, but I am who I am.
He wrinkles his nose, snarling. “Fuck you, Cam. You know I’d love to be out there with you.”
Seems like he’s not in such a great mood. Although he’s been struggling and I’ve pulled back slightly. I don’t want to lie to him about Natalie, and at the same time seeing him deal with a situation we all worry about is like getting slapped over the head with a frying pan.
“I know. When do you go to the doctor again?” I usually make it a habit to keep my guys’ schedules memorized, but my reminding him to be careful and telling him how much time he had to go was getting on his nerves. Now, I purposely don’t say anything about it.
“Two weeks. Hopefully, I’ll have some answers about what’s going on. Why I’m having trouble with my arm.” The minute he says the words, he clamps his mouth shut. Judging by his body language, he hadn’t meant to let that slip.
“You’re having trouble with your arm?” This isn’t something he’s mentioned to me before and I’m more worried than I want to let on.
“I haven’t wanted to tell anyone, but I’m having some issues. Like gripping pencils and stuff.”
He holds up his hand to show me. The grip is odd, not nearly as tight as it should be. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anyone hold a writing utensil in that way. “Are you going to talk to the doctor about it?”
“I have to, don’t I?” He shrugs. “I’ve told you about it and now there’s a paper trail. If I don’t go get it looked at, you’re going to write me up and then I’ll have to deal with all of that mess,” he huffs.
“All anybody wants is for you to be good, man.”
He huffs again. “I know, and, while I appreciate it, I’m sick of all the fuckin’ well wishes and bless your hearts. All I want is for people to see the person I was before all this happened. I had some older man try and give me his handicap spot at the bank yesterday. Do you know how that felt?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I can’t even begin to imagine. Why don’t we go back and have a talk?”
He gets up, shoving his chair so hard it falls over. Looks like this is something he’s needed for a while. Once we’re out behind the station, he gets quiet. “Finish what you were going to say in there.”
“Old man said I needed the spot more than he did because I’m some kind of hero.” He spits the words out like they have a bad taste.
“You are; you helped someone who needed it. You got them out alive, while getting hurt yourself. That makes you a hero, Gauge.”
“It makes me fuckin’ stupid. I should’ve predicted what was going to happen.” He swallows roughly, thrusting his fingers through his hair. “At least if I’d have died out there, I wouldn’t have to deal with this pain every damn day of my life.”
“I’m sorry this happened to you, but we can’t change our circumstances, Gauge.”
“Now you sound like my therapist. We can’t change what happened, but you can change the way you react to it. How am I supposed to react? Nobody knows what the fuck this feels like until it happens to them. Seeing as how I’m the only one who’s ever gotten injured in the line of duty here, I think I have the market corned so, respectfully, fuck you.”
“I’m not going to try and pretend like I know what you’re going through because I don’t, but there are people who need you, man. Me, your sister, your parents. They all need you.”
“And that really helps late at night when I lay in bed by myself, praying the pain medication works.”
His voice is hoarse, so full of defeat and despair. All I want is to fix it. To let him be the firefighter and best friend he was before all this happened. “If I could take all this away from you, I would.”
“But you can’t.” He sighs heavily. “I’m stuck with this. For better or worse.”
“It’s getting better, though.” I try to remind him.
“Is it? Because now I’m having trouble holding shit. There’s no way they’re going to let me ride a truck and you know it.”
Unfortunately, I do know it’s true. They’ll keep him here, behind this desk, until he’s a shell of the person he used to be. He’s already becoming a shell of the person he was and I fucking hate it. “You know I’ll keep you here for as long as I can.”
He has a wealth of experience, and is one of the most positive people on the team; typically. If he can get out of his own way, I think he’ll be an asset, no matter what he’s able to do in the future.
