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Chapter Nine
Four amazing weeks passed. I don’t even remember reality, just Lizzie. Lizzie in my bed, Lizzie in her bed, Lizzie on the couch, Lizzie in my kitchen, Lizzie on her patio, Lizzie on my living room floor, Lizzie. I was on call during dinner at her place the Sunday after our date, the first time we really spent the night together, and a twisted part of me felt relieved at the excuse of work because I wasn’t ready to meet her friends, not then. But when another two weeks passed and it was Lizzie’s turn to host their dinner again, her text message asking if I’d pick up some wine on my way home left me feeling all sorts of messed up. I knew what wine with Lizzie at home on a Saturday night meant. I lived for that now. It was what came when we woke up that had me anxious.
Dinner.
Sean.
Avery.
Dinner with them, at Lizzie’s.
I was her boyfriend. Dinner. Sean. Dammit, Noah.
I paced the fire station, overthinking Lizzie’s text message instead of focusing on work. But how could I not think of it? Jesse and Ella were great; it wasn’t them I worried about.
Worried? I’d been in combat, I rescued people, I saved lives. I saved their lives. That was the worry, the angst…the unease. I combed my fingers through my hair, pressing along my scalp to pull some blood back from my balls once thoughts of Lizzie turned too dangerous for work.
“Rossi.” The chief stood in the doorway. “You have something to tell me?”
“What?” I looked at him, my gaze moving from him to the furry lump in his arms. I bit my lips to resist a smile, knowing he was referring to the sparkling blue collar around my geriatric roommate. “I like the color blue. It’s Muffin’s favorite.”
“It sparkles,” he grunted, lifting an eyebrow at me. Lizzie’s toenail polish sparkled too. And there I went, staring at my dog’s obnoxious collar while thinking of Lizzie’s toes, and her legs, and her belly button, and her tattoos, and all of that in my bed this morning when I left for work.
“Rossi,” his voice was tense, “what’s happening to my strongest man here?”
“No gender stereotypes, chief,” I admonished. “I like things that sparkle. I also like lace and wine, and I’ve found peppermint oil diffusers have really helped with my headaches.” All things Lizzie, all things I’d fallen for like an addicted fool. I rolled my eyes up to Muffin, watching his wide tongue lick his jowls while he panted in the chief’s arms, smiling at me.
“I’m not letting him wear this shit if I’m watching him when you’re called again,” the chief rumbled with laughter as he turned away. “If he’s staying with me, he’s wearing something else.”
Just like that, my expression fell to the floor with my balls and heart, sloshing around in a pile of guilt. I’d pushed it behind me, neglected reality, and wonderfully so because I could escape with Lizzie, in her and around her, and it felt perfect.
I heard Muffin’s claws pattering on the floor when the chief placed him down, and the bastard followed my boss instead of me. I watched the prisms reflecting from his collar bounce around the hallway as he left, thinking again of Lizzie and how nervous I was to meet them. She gave Muffin that collar a few nights after our night together two weeks ago, sort of like her I’m your new mama and I’m sorry my shoes smell like my cats gift to explain why Muffin was going to be spending a lot of time with her. And he did, every night for two weeks, with the exception of tonight when he came to the station with me for work.
My phone buzzed again, another message from Lizzie. She could’ve sent a crap emoji and my heart would’ve swelled because it was from her. I know, I was hopeless. It was a series of emojis consisting of a heart, a wine glass, a bikini, which I knew meant something else…if I grind my teeth any harder, I’ll need dentures…and two cats. That meant she was waiting for me at her house…and she wanted to torture me…or play. I gnawed on my lip while glancing around, listening to Ben laugh with some others near our bunks and Nina conducting an attendance call with the new recruits. I knew how to play Lizzie’s game; I just needed somewhere more private to do it.
I carried my phone into the locker room with me, placing it on a bench near my unit while I took off my shirt. My hip was still raw, healing from my latest tattoo of a calla lily, but it looked great and drove Lizzie mad in the best way possible. Shirtless and inked, I clenched my abs and held the camera above me to get an angle of my body that I knew would destroy her series of emojis ten-fold.
I pressed the send button just as the siren blared throughout the station, not even getting a second to check if I sent it to Lizzie and not my mom. The banter and conversation previously filling the fire station ceased, and we were swiftly into the garage awaiting instruction within three minutes. I think my shirt was inside out, my phone might have butt-dialed for pizza, and none of it mattered. I had a job to do, a life to care for, and I could do it better knowing I had a life waiting for me that night.
“Ben’s got the notes,” the chief hollered to me as I approached my team. “This one’s close, Rossi.” His palm smacked my shoulder, lingering with his fingers briefly pinching into my skin. It was like he tried to keep me there, to prevent me from going, and I knew part of him wanted me to stay as much as I did. Sometimes, I wish he didn’t care so much about me, to keep letting me know how traumatized I would be by seeing scenes similar to the night I lost Jade. Other times, I wondered if I thought that way because I wanted to forget.
I sat in back for this ride, nestled next to two recruits. The kid on my right sorted through a bin of supplies in preparation. It was my job to prepare them, like they were interns and not actual paramedics already. I didn’t mind supervising them, giving them tips and all that, but I was used to the field, and out there, there’s no room for babysitting.
“When we get there,” I glanced at both of them, “there’ll be blood, glass, terrified people…just treat it with facts. All you know is what you’ve studied, what you see before you. Move fast, but with efficiency, while reassuring the victims you’ve got them covered. That’s all they need to know.”
“What if they’re not going to make it, Rossi?”
“They don’t need to know that.” I pulled my hands along my face, sighing into my palms before speaking again. “Do you want to know you’re dying before you die? No. If hope is all you can give, give it.”
“One minute,” Nina called from the front. It was silent once more, other than our siren and the fire engine on our tail. And my pounding heart. Normally, I’d think of Muffin to keep me together in an accident like this, but I wasn’t this time.
The back doors tore open with Ben leaping inside for an equipment bag. The three of us shuffled out behind him, grabbing what supplies we thought best for triage. I surveyed the scene as my feet slammed against the wet pavement, my eyes stopping on the young woman cowering next to a lone car tire.
“Noah,” Nina approached with panic, “three cars up there, people are stuck, one guy over there, haven’t checked that one.” She nodded to a flipped black SUV. I ran from Nina, heading toward the flipped SUV and calling out for anyone to answer. The first voice I heard over the clamor of sirens and cries was the scream of the woman by the tire.
“What’s your name?” I first called out to her as I approached, keeping my gaze between her and the flipped car. She stood, which I hadn’t expected, and lunged toward me.
“Mary,” she stammered against my chest. “My husband! He’s in the car!” Her fingers clawed my back as she clenched onto me, spinning us back to the flipped car. A wave of nausea washed over me, swelling and rushing once more like a never-ending current.
