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“Axel—”
“Her late husband died in a fire, Han. Ms. Mazzi is a fucking basket case with worry, but they wanna be together, so they’re finding a compromise in the middle.”
“Compromise is good,” I rush out. “Like I said, they find each other, and they do what needs to be done to be together.”
“That radio isn’t gonna fix their relationship! It’s only gonna prolong her agony until, someday, she gets a front-row seat to a fire he’s in that maybe he can’t get out of again. She’s gonna listen to us report that we’ve found a dead body, or we’re stuck under rubble. She’ll hear every horrible detail that we don’t typically share outside of the firehouse, because it’s traumatizing. “He’s not doing her a favor by giving her that radio, Hannah. He’s gonna be the reason she sprints straight toward a nervous breakdown. So me refusing that future for you… me keeping you safe from that…” I can see him in my mind, shaking his head. “Who loves who more?”
“You’re stubborn and ridiculous.” My words come out on a huff of impatience. “Sure, some firefighters get hurt on the job, but—”
“Like me,” he inserts callously. “Today. Did you really wanna listen to that in real-time?”
“But the vast majority of firefighters enjoy a long, happy career until eventually, they settle into retirement, fat and old, exactly how they should.”
“And most of them end up divorced,” he concludes. “Alone. With PTSD and no one to enjoy retirement with because the woman he swore his life to left, either because he’s a dick, or because she couldn’t take the worry anymore.”
“Ugh!” I push up tall and knock Viv’s hand from my back in my haste. “You are so fucking frustrating, Axel! Whatever is gonna happen with us, whatever our future brings, I’m already gonna worry. I’m gonna be waiting for the text that says you’re okay. I’m still gonna be here, watching the clock and counting down the seconds until you call me!”
“Which is why I’ve told you a million times to look elsewhere.”
If we were eye to eye, my nose in line with his chin, I know he’d make that face he does, where his lips kind of curl into a dismissive line. Where his left shoulder comes up, and his body is already turned half away. Because he’s always walking away from me. Even when we both know he shouldn’t.
“Anyone ask you out today?”
My eyes narrow to dangerous slits. “You’re an asshole.”
“I’m serious.” He exhales, his exhaustion rolling along the line. “I know dudes are always in that bakery, checking you and my sister out. And you’re beautiful, which means I can’t even get pissy about it. So… who asked you out today?”
“It doesn’t matter who! Because I say no every time.”
“Well, maybe you should say yes.” His breath flutters, so if I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend we were right beside each other. “It would be a damn shame if the guy whoshould’vebeen your husband were to walk in and fall in love, but you’re stuck on me and pay him no attention.”
“Yeah,” I snarl. “That sure would be a shame, huh? Idiots who aren’t looking at the person right in front of them. How utterlyannoying.”
“Stop.” He yawns, big and long and noisily enough to almost make me do the same. “I’m too tired to deal with this tonight, Sullivan. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”
“Just like that? You ended up in the hospital today, made me wait five hours to hear anything, and now you’re just… going to sleep?”
“Yeah. And let this be a lesson for you,” he mumbles. “Loving a firefighter is for dummies.”
Sure seems like it.
“Goodnight, Han. I’ll come down to the shop tomorrow and make you smile again. Like I always do.”
“Yeah.”
And that’s why I can’t accept anyone else’s offers for dinner. It’s why I can’t walk away and love someone else. Because in my world, in my life, once you meet that person you’re supposed to be with, there are no side trips to spend time with someone else. There’s noshopping aroundor playing the field. Or exploring other options. Or distracting oneself and hoping to falloutof love. There’s just a martyred firefighter who robs us of the gratification we both want so badly.
“Goodnight, Axel. Hey,” before he hangs up, I grip my phone tighter and hope he hasn’t fallen asleep yet. “You still there?”
“Yeah, babe. What’s up?”
My heart hammers so I feel it in my throat. Nerves flood my veins, and the adrenaline that follows makes me shaky all over. But I’ve been rejected by this man a million times already.
What’s one more?
“I love you, Axel.”
Silence hangs for a long beat. Painful. Torturous. Then his lips curl into a soft grin; I hear it in the way he says, “Yeah. Goodnight.”
