Her Real Man Page 9

  He gently pulled me away and pointed at the ground where the other guys were all crouched in a circle. In the middle, a hairy mess of honey wiggled about, a tiny wet black snout sniffing the firemen’s clothes. A puppy! A cute golden retriever.

  “He’s so cute!” For a moment, I forgot my man and dove into the huddle to pet the adorable hairball. “Oh, he’s so sweet.” The puppy jumped on my knees and licked my face vigorously while I laughed in delight. I had always loved dogs. “What’s his name?”

  “Honey,” one of the guys said. “It’s a girl.”

  “I thought you’d get a kick out of her.” It was my sweet Gavin. He smiled and winked at me, obviously pleased I was enjoying myself.

  The frolicking with the dog went on for a while. Eventually, Gavin and some of the other guys went inside to accomplish some work while I stayed outdoors with the dog and a couple of Gavin’s colleagues. Honey had exhausted me, and my legs were sore from squatting to her level for so long. I stretched and sat on the low wall just as one of the men attached a leash to the puppy and took her on a walk.

  I sighed, tired but happy. It had been such a great week. “Gavin is great.” I wasn’t sure why I felt I needed to establish that fact with his friends, but he was all I had in my brain of late.

  “He’s an amazing guy,” one of the guys, Alan, said. “I still can’t believe how he bounced back from that freaky accident.”

  Justin, the other fireman who had stayed outside with me, nodded. “Yeah, it was bad. We all thought he was a goner.”

  So far, I had only heard bits and pieces about the accident that had caused Gavin the loss of his leg. I was curious, but couldn’t gather the courage to ask Gavin himself, not wanting to bring up painful memories.

  “How did it happen exactly? The accident.”

  Alan traded a glance with Justin, as if asking for permission to tell the tale. I noticed Justin’s tiny nod before Alan turned back to me.

  “It was terrifying. Gavin had been out with friends, celebrating a rescue they had made the night before.” Alan lowered his voice and glanced briefly at the door to the building. “There had been some heavy drinking and he really shouldn’t have been driving, but—” My heart must have stopped, because I couldn’t breathe for a second. Gavin was driving drunk? “The car ended up wrapped around a tree. Gavin somehow managed to survive, but Bill was dead on impact.” Oh my God! There was someone else in the car with him. “Bill was Gavin’s best friend and mentor in the fire department. Once he was conscious and out of the woods, Gavin almost crashed again when he found out about Bill.”

  “The accident happened because of drunk driving?” I couldn’t be sure my words were audible, or if I had just uttered them inside my head.

  Justin exchanged another look with Alan and they both nodded, their eyes avoiding mine. I was crushed. Of all the things that could have happened, this was possibly the one I would never be able to accept. I had lost my baby sister to a drunk driver, and there was no way—no matter how much I was falling in love with him—I would ever be able to look Gavin in the eye again.

  I thanked the guys—at least, I thought I did—and ran all the way home. I closed the door behind me and slid all the way to the floor, my head against the cold surface and tears streaming down my cheeks, little rivulets of pain and sorrow. My real man, and first true love, had dissipated like the morning mist over the lake. Just like that, Gavin had gone from hero to villain in my own love story.

  ***

  Gavin

  The boot flew across the room in a wide arc and slammed with great aplomb into the wall, narrowly missing Jackson’s head as he burst through the open door.

  “Fuck, you could have killed me, idiot. What’s going on with you?” My friend stared at the heavy boot now lying on the floor, and then back at me.

  I mumbled a half-hearted apology from my seated position and focused on my prosthetic foot. A fake heart was a very attractive idea at that moment, since my real one was hurting so bad. I had given my heart away for the first time ever, only to get it stomped on and torn to shreds by the woman I had come to love.

  “Dude, you look like shit.” Jackson came to sit down next to me on the edge of my bunk. “Did you get any sleep?”

  For once, there hadn’t been any calls during the night, an almost unheard-of event in a firehouse, but I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned all night, Ana’s beautiful face imprinted inside my eyelids. Why was this happening? What could have possibly happened to make her so mad at me she wouldn’t pick up the phone? One minute, she had been next to me, playing with the firehouse’s new mascot; the next, she was gone.

  “She won’t talk to me.” The sting of unshed tears burned in my eyes. I hadn’t cried in a very long time. In fact, I hadn’t even cried when I found out I had lost my leg. Anger, red-hot wrath, had colored my feelings then, but the tears never came. It took a tiny little woman to break me.

  Jackson patted my back. “What did you do?”

  Thanks, Jacks, for so quickly jumping to the conclusion I did something wrong.

  “I’m totally befuckled,” I said, refusing to lift my suspiciously moist eyes. “I’m fucked-up and confused. I don’t know what to think. Nothing happened. Nothing.”

  “That’s rough, Gavin.” Jackson got on his feet and began gathering my discarded clothes from the floor and piling them up on a chair. “Just let it go. Maybe she’ll come around.”

  My head snapped up. “Around? Around what?” My voice was unnecessarily shrill, and I immediately felt guilty for talking to him like that. “Sorry, man. I’m just so messed up.”

  “Jump in the shower and come have lunch with my wife and me.”

  It was a nice invite, but I didn’t feel like being around two people in love. Watching Jackson and his lovely wife would be like rubbing salt on an open wound.

  “Thanks, Jacks, but I think I’m going home to sleep.”

  After a quick shower, I walked the short distance to my house. As an afterthought, I turned around and dragged myself to the Grind N Crepe instead. I sat in our favorite booth. Yes, Ana and I already had a favorite many things—a coffee shop booth, a song, a show on TV, a movie.

  I cradled a hot mug of coffee in my hands and allowed my thoughts to roam free. I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, staring into everything and seeing nothing. Emptiness filled my chest where my heart and soul had imploded and bled to death.

  “Gavin?” A familiar voice snapped me out of my reverie, and the world came into focus again. Elaine Mathews had slipped into the opposite seat in the booth and stared at me with interest. “Are you all right?

  Of all the people I could have met right then, Ana’s mother was not the one I expected or wanted. If her daughter was so mad at me she wouldn’t even answer my calls, what would her mom’s reaction be?

  “You look sick,” she said, surprising me with her genuine concern. “Are you here to meet my daughter?”

  Hell, Ana hadn’t told her either. “Ana is not talking to me.” I sound like a sulking child. “She’s mad about something but won’t tell me what.”

  The gorgeous Mrs. Mathews frowned. “Ana can be very stubborn. Have you asked her?”

  I swiped a hand over my face and sighed. “I’ve called a million times, left her messages, and even went knocking at her door. She refuses to give me the time of day.”

  “You must have seriously screwed up.” Was that a hint of laughter in her voice? I failed to see the humor in all of it, so I scowled. “Don’t give me that look, young man. My daughter is a bit defensive when it comes to matters of the heart, but she wouldn’t just stop talking to you on a whim. Something must have happened.” I shook my head. “Something you said?” I shook it even more emphatically. “Something someone else said?”

  That had not occurred to me. Ana had been talking to Alan and Justin right before she took off running. Had they said something about me that made her mad? But what? I had no skeletons in the closet, and was generally well-liked by my
coworkers. Maybe I should call the men and ask what they had been talking about with my sweet writer that had made her bolt.

  “Are you serious about Ana?” The question took me by surprise, and I almost dropped the mug I had lifted to my lips. “You must be if you’re this upset about it.”

  I might as well come clean. Nothing to lose at that point. “I’m in love with your daughter.” I couldn’t believe I’d said it out loud. Maybe not to the right person yet, but it was progress. I hoped.

  Ana’s mother smiled, her well-shaped lips stretching and her eyes glowing. “I knew it. I could tell by the way you looked at her when she wasn’t looking. The way my husband used to look at me when we were dating.”

  “Not anymore?” I bit my tongue. What kind of an idiot was I to ask such a question?

  She didn’t seem too upset. “No, unfortunately I lost my husband some years ago.” I winced. “He’s not dead. He left me.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “He couldn’t handle being around us after we lost our youngest daughter.” Ana had had a sister? Why had she never mentioned it? “He doted on her—understandably, since she was a sweetheart, smart, and talented. But when she was killed by that drunk driver, he couldn’t even look at us. I think we reminded him too much of her.”

  Interesting that Ana had never once spoken about this. Granted, we hadn’t known each other for too long, but this seemed like a rather important detail in her life. Her sister had been killed by a drunk driver—could that be somehow the connection to this whole mess? But how would that make her angry at me?

  “Anyway, I hope you can fix things with my girl.” Mrs. Mathews stood and offered me her hand. “You’re a good, brave man and my daughter deserves nothing less. I didn’t move back from Seattle to watch my daughter be miserable. Make it work.”

  Her tone of voice made me smile as I stood up to shake her hand. “Or what?”

  “Or I will hunt you down and make you regret you ever met me.” With a wink, she turned around and left me. I believed her.

  ***

  Ana

  I had run out of tears hours before. On top of my coffee table, a pile of snotty tissues looked suspiciously like Mount Everest, and the mirror across the way told me raccoons had nothing on me with my mascara-smudged eyes and face. When the bell rang, I ignored it at first, but after ten or more rings, I knew I couldn’t anymore.

  Delta was at the door, a half-gallon container of dark chocolate ice cream in hand and a worried frown. I threw another tissue into the pile and dragged my feet to the couch where I collapsed into the cushions with a groan.

  “Sweetie, you’re a mess.” Thank you for stating the obvious, my friend. Delta closed the door behind her and set the container on the table in front of me. “We’ll need spoons.”

  Coming back from my kitchen with two large spoons in her hand, my friend sat beside me, shaking a few rogue tissues from the couch onto the floor. “I know you’re hurting, but it’s no excuse to be a slob.” I knew she was trying to be funny, but even Delta couldn’t make me laugh. Not when my heart was bleeding. I dropped my head on her shoulder and sobbed. “Oh honey, I hate to see you like this.” She patted my back, holding me close to her, and I was reminded of another time when she did the same. The memory made me cry even more.

  “He killed someone, Delta.” My voice was thick with emotion and laced with anger. “How can I look at him now? You know how I feel about drunk drivers.” Better than almost anyone—even my mom.

  “I know, sweetie. But are you sure?” I snapped my head up to look at her and sniffled. She shrugged apologetically. “Are you certain that’s what happened? I mean, he doesn’t hit me as the kind to get behind the wheel drunk. Everyone sings his praises—”

  I didn’t mean to sound so irate, but my heart wouldn’t be controlled. I loved a man who was by all definitions the same type of criminal who had killed my sister all those years ago. It made me very angry.

  “I know what his friends said. His mentor, some guy called Bill, was killed in that accident. I checked the newspapers from back then and they all said the same thing; the accident was caused by too much alcohol.” The words flew out of my mouth hot as flames. “I hate him. I truly hate him.”

  Delta drew me to her again, her familiar presence giving me a measure of comfort. “No, you don’t. That’s the problem—you’re in love with him.”

  How does a guy drop from a pedestal reserved for heroes to a dungeon for lowlives within a couple hours? Everybody claimed he had saved numerous lives at his job—a man who didn’t let a little thing like a missing limb stop him from venturing to the site of a raging fire. How could that same man be a murderer? Yes, in my book, anyone who sat behind the wheel of a car and drove it drunk was no better than the one who picked up a gun with the intention of shooting someone. He was a murderer like the felon who had mowed down my beautiful, smart little sister as she was coming home from school—my sweet, full of potential baby sister who wanted to be a ballerina and a scientist. Her graduation had been only one week away. Instead, we attended her funeral that day.

  “Has he been calling?”

  I blew my nose loudly and looked at her from the corner of my eye.

  “He has, hasn’t he?” Delta sighed and removed the lid from the ice-cream container. “You should talk to him.”

  I cackled like the old hag I felt. “Talk to him? Are you fucking serious?”

  “You need some closure.” She sounded so rational, so calm, I wanted to slap her. “If you don’t, you’ll be hanging on to this heartache for years, like you did with Rick.”

  Rick, the suave singer who had bewitched me into marrying him five short months after we met, and with whom I had nothing in common. The same Rick who had hopped in some groupie’s bed before we celebrated our first anniversary. The same asshole who ripped my romantic heart to shreds, the one I just recently had begun to piece together again.

  “You know I’m right.” I hated when she was the sane one in our relationship. “You have to do it. And sooner rather than later.”

  Delta handed me a spoon and we dug into the ice cream with gusto. I’d be on a diet of Tums the next day, but that sugary, fatty treat was a balm to the soul.

  “Do you want me to stay?” She knew me too well.

  My lower lip quivered. “Will you?”

  Delta smiled, a bit of chocolate ice cream dripping from the corner of her lips. “Of course. I love you, romantic fool.”

  I made a face, a tiny giggle escaping my lips. “Thank you. You may want to clean your mouth.”

  Delta puckered her dirty lips. “Does my mouth look like a baby butt?”

  “Ewww, that’s disgusting, Delta.” It was like old times—me being a sensitive idiot and Delta being the goofball who always made me laugh.

  “Made you laugh, didn’t I?”

  I fell into her arms, sobbing and laughing all at the same time, snot flowing freely from my nose and onto her lovely black sweater. Delta would kill me as soon as I was recovered from my broken heart, but for now she allowed it—no, she welcomed it, rubbing circles on my heaving back and cooing like a turtledove.

  Despite the hurt, I slept like a baby that night, curled into a ball on the couch under my fluffiest blanket and only half-aware of my best friend’s presence next to me. I couldn’t be sure what I dreamed of, but I woke up with wet cheeks and the vivid taste of Gavin on my slobbery lips. The smell of cinnamon rolls caressed my nose and inspired me to open my heavy eyelids to face daylight.

  “Well, welcome back to the land of the living and awake, my pretty.” Delta, wearing one of my giant T-shirts and Frozen slippers, was standing by the stove with a spatula in her hand. “Got some sweet buns here. Just follow the scent.”

  As much as I wanted to go back to sleep, the smell was too tantalizing for me to resist. I sat up and dragged myself to the kitchen, blowing loose strands of my hair away from my nose and my eyes.

  “You’re evil.” My throat was dry and scr
atchy. I plopped myself on a chair and crossed my arms on top of the table. “I’ll be as fat as a cow and you’ll have to roll me down the hill.”

  Delta slid a bun onto a plate and placed it in front of me. “Stop your bellyaching and eat up. Sugar is good for a broken heart.”

  After devouring two whole rolls and gulping down a huge glass of milk, closely followed by a mug of dark roasted coffee, I took a shower and dressed in my oldest and most comfortable yoga pants, paired up with a light striped hoodie. I wasn’t going anywhere. Not now, maybe never. I was going to sit down and bleed into my laptop—heart, guts, and soul—until I had no blood left.

  Heroes and Saints

  Gavin

  The alarm blared through the firehouse, waking every man and woman on duty. I was already awake, tormented by the same dreams I’d been having since Ana inexplicably built a wall around her to keep me out. She haunted every thought, every dream.

  I sat up and put on the rest of my uniform before running toward the fire truck. While the other men quickly filtered in through the door to the station’s living quarters, I turned on the engine’s lights and let it idle until everyone was in the cab.

  Through my helmet’s intercom, I heard Jackson’s voice giving us information about the incident we were heading to, but I couldn’t focus. I hadn’t slept properly in a long time. I shook my head and made myself pay attention to the instructions. It wouldn’t be fair to my unit or possible victims if I was distracted enough not to function at 100 percent.

  As soon as I heard the address, I mapped the way in my head as I always did, and turned on the first street to the right.

  “Gas leak near a small shopping strip,” Jackson said. I hated those more than any others, because it normally affected multiple buildings at the same time. Gas was one of the things in my line of work that scared me the most because of its unpredictability and potential danger—greater possibility of explosions and fatalities.

  Jackson jumped out of the truck even before it stopped completely, rushing straight to where the leak had been reported to be—a hole made by a contractor the evening before. As we staged Engine 1 and Ladder 2 as far from the leak as we deemed safe, Jackson came running back.