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Hearing Carson's excited voice finally breaks me out of my panicked state of mind. He's okay. He's safe. He doesn't seem traumatized in the least.Thank God. Or, as my sister, Indie, would say,thank the universe.
I loosen my hold on him, allowing him to crawl out of my arms, though I hold his hand in mine.
Now that the initial shock and adrenaline have worn off, I’m completely drained. Awareness comes flooding back into my body, reminding me it's fifteen degrees out and I'm in a ripped skirt and thin blouse. My knees start throbbing from where I fell earlier, and my left wrist aches, probably from the fall as well.
I try to get myself together enough to listen to Carson talk about his new friend, but as I stand up, the world tilts sideways.
"Woah, there, I've got you."
The rich baritone voice rolls over me, blanketing me in warmth and safety. I'm vaguely aware of large, comforting hands on my shoulders, steadying me. When I look up, I'm met with intense, dark blue eyes that seem to stare right down into the very depths of who I am.
And then my knees buckle and I fall into the stranger's arms.
"I've got you," he says again, this time scooping me up into his arms. "Everything is going to be alright," he murmurs. I want to argue with him, to tell him nothing has been alright for a long time, but some crazy part of me believes him. I must have hit my head when I fell.
The firefighter sets me down so I'm perched on the back ledge of the ambulance. Carson's little hand finds mine and he squeezes, letting me know he's right here for me. My son is such a trooper. I should be stronger for him. I should have waited until he was in bed tonight to have a good old fashioned cry in the shower. It certainly wouldn't be the first time since I moved here with my sister three years ago.
"There we are," that same deep, reassuring voice says as he drapes a blanket around my shoulders. He rubs his hands up and down my arms, trying to warm me up.
I look up at him with watery eyes, still unable to find my voice. I don't know what I would say to him even if I could talk. The longer I look at him, the more his features come into focus. He's huge, that's for sure. Over six and a half feet tall, if I had to guess. With a sharp, angular nose, piercing blue eyes, a well-trimmed beard, and dark brown hair, the man looks like a freaking GQ model. Firefighter edition. If that even exists.
Of course, he's ridiculously built, as well. Broad shoulders, defined biceps, and thick forearms that flex as he continues to rub my arms over the blanket. I feel lightheaded all over again, but this time for an entirely different reason.
He has to be the sexiest man I've ever seen, and here I am a completely disheveled, snotty, crying mess. Not that it matters. I'm not looking for a man right now, or ever, for that matter.Noooo, thank you.
I tear my eyes away from him before I embarrass myself any further. Big mistake. Once I'm no longer under the sexy firefighter's spell, I realize what a huge scene I've just made. The other parents and daycare workers are staring at me, murmuring to each other. I'm sure the entire town of Christmas, Michigan will hear about my public humiliation by dinnertime. Wonderful.
I close my eyes, trying to shut everybody and everything else out. I'm mortified at my behavior. And then guilt hits me square in the chest. This isn't about me, it's about Carson. I should just be thankful he's safe, and I am, but I'm also humiliated.
My throat starts closing again, my breath coming out as choppy little whimpers. I can’t seem to stop embarrassing myself. I hate everything about this situation. I can’t control anything—not the people, not the fire, not even my own body. I’m floundering, and in public, no less.
"Breathe for me, sweetheart. Just focus on breathing." There's that voice again. It reaches through the fog of shame and racing thoughts, settling somewhere deep in my chest. I swear it's like he just injected liquid comfort into my veins.
I nod and open my eyes, staring right into those dark, ocean irises of his. The man rests his hands on my shoulders, massaging them gently as he encourages me to take another breath.
Slowly, my throat opens up again and I'm able to breathe a little deeper. My shaking stops and my heart rate somewhat returns to normal. He slides his hands from my shoulders, up my neck, until he's cupping my face. It's the most intimate contact I've had with anyone in years. Some part of me knows I should push him away. My son is right here and half the damn town is watching us, but my eyes flutter closed as I savor the feeling of his rough, calloused hands on my cheeks.
"That's it," he says reassuringly. "Everything's alright." It's the second time he's said that, and once again, I believe him. It must be the lack of oxygen to my brain over the last twenty minutes.
"Mommy!" Carson's bright voice breaks into the tender moment. The firefighter drops his hands from my face, and I instantly miss his warmth. Carson tugs on my arm, making me look down at him. I smile and take another deep breath when I see his chubby cheeks and sparkling eyes. "Drake. My friend."
I look between the stranger and my son, trying to find my voice to say something. Anything, really. I can't seem to think of a single thing other than his name.Drake. It sends a shiver up my spine, but not from the cold.
"Melissa," I blurt out, immediately cringing at my awkwardness. I'm usually much more presentable than this. I'm the responsible one, the one with a plan of attack, and a backup plan of attack. And then two more back up plans just in case. But this wouldn't be the first time life threw me a curveball.
"Melissa," he repeats, more to himself than to me. We share another moment, both of us seemingly lost in the information that we've learned about each other.
Get it together! It's just a name!
"I'll get you patched up in no time, ma'am," another voice cuts in. I turn my head toward the voice, for the first time noticing a paramedic with a first aid kit. I realize he's here to bandage up my knees. Great. How embarrassing. No one else here required medical attention, just me, the crazy neurotic mom with a broken heel, ripped skirt, and bruised ego.
"No," Drake says, his voice deep and commanding. The paramedic eyes him up, and I swear I hear Drake growl. The EMT hands him the first aid kit and backs away. "Let's do this somewhere with a little more privacy if that's okay."
I nod my head, thankful that he seems to know what I need. I'm about to hop down, but Drake jumps up into the ambulance before kneeling down and lifting me up into his arms as if I weigh nothing. He carefully sets me down on the stretcher inside the vehicle and then helps Carson up.
My son giggles in delight at being up here. Once again, I thank God (and the universe) that he seems completely fine. And once again, I kick myself for getting so worked up about it and making a fool of myself.
"Can you sit up here next to your mom? She needs you to be a big, brave boy for her while I clean up her cuts, okay, buddy?"
