Come What May (Heartbeat) (11 page)

Chapter Nineteen
Adam

“
Mi casa es su casa
.”

Flinging open the door of my apartment, I stand back to let Jada enter ahead of me. That’s the gentlemanly thing to do, right? But I’m no gentleman…I just enjoy watching her climb the stairs. The rain has made her pants skin tight, and her ass has never looked better. I can’t take my eyes off it.

“Are you coming?” Stopping halfway, she turns around, catching me staring up at her from the bottom of the stairwell. I’m afraid my jaw is on the floor, but thankfully it’s not. “I know you’re dead tired, but come on, partner. We’re in the home stretch now.” She continues her ascent with her wet shoes making suctioning noises with each step. I want to laugh. The combination is so ridiculous. Her killer curves mixed with the footfall of a swamp creature. Only Jada.

“Do you have anything I can change into? I’m freezing.” She rubs her hands against her arms. The clamminess of our drenched uniforms is well beyond the point of being uncomfortable.

“I don’t have any pants that will fit you. I know that.” I drop my keys onto the kitchen table. My mouth is on automatic. I’m thinking through the problem as I’m talking. “How about a sweatshirt and shorts?”

Her face reddens and I wonder what I’ve said that’s embarrassed her.

“I’m afraid the only thing that’s gonna work is a pair of your boxers.” And I flush as she goes on. “With the elastic waistband, they’re about the only thing that will stay up without a belt.”

Just the thought of having her inside my underwear is doing all sorts of things to my body. Why didn’t we stop at her place for a change of clothes? This is torture.

“Yeah, sure. If that’s what you want.” I dodge her gaze and hurry into my room. I pull open the drawer too quickly and it nearly comes flying out of the dresser. Get a hold of yourself, O’Malley.

“It’s only until I can throw my uniform in your dryer. I’ll put it back on as soon as it’s done,” she yells to me from the living room.

I rummage through the selection, holding up various pairs for inspection. Too many holes. Too faded. Too tight. These silky black ones might work. I push my hair out of my eyes. Why am I so frazzled? I’ve had girls in my apartment before…wearing a lot less.

“Adam, I’m not going to meet the Queen. Anything you have is fine.” She’s drumming her fingernails on the counter, waiting for me to return.

Grabbing two mismatched socks and a Tri-County Ambulance sweatshirt, I reemerge. Having the logo of our employer emblazoned across her chest will remind me that she’s off limits no matter how much I want to touch her.

“Here you go.” I toss the pile of clothing at her and it lands in a heap on the carpet.

“Gee, thanks.” She rolls her eyes, bending to pick everything up. “Do you think I can take a shower first? I’m chilled to the bone.”

“Be my guest. There are towels in the cabinet under the sink.” She’s going to be naked…in my shower…with only a closed bathroom door and a flimsy shower curtain between us. I swallow hard.

After a few seconds, the hiss of the streaming water makes me all kinds of crazy. I have to keep my mind occupied or I’m going to go insane. Striding into the kitchen, I open the freezer and whip out a frozen pizza. Reading the back of the box, I hold my thumb over the button to preheat the oven. After sliding two beers out of the fridge, I pop one open and take a slug. That’s when I hear her singing through the wall. I grip the neck of the bottle willing myself to relax, but it’s not happening.

Then it comes over me like a wave. She’s not Katie, and she never will be. What I’m feeling for Jada is purely physical. I only want her because I can’t have her. We’re around each other too much. The idea of not being able to fulfill my desires is what’s pulling me toward her. These one-night stands just aren’t cutting it. If I can’t have Katie, I want to have some connection with whatever woman I’m fucking. The friendship that Jada and I have is the perfect jumping off point—if she can keep things casual and not get super attached. I yearn for the release her body can give me without any of the boyfriend/girlfriend baggage that can get in the way. I can pleasure her. She can pleasure me. Too bad real life doesn’t work like that.

Because that searing bond I experienced with Katie is never going to leave me. She’s the standard by which I measure all other women. And while I like Jada, and we get along and all, I don’t ever see myself falling in love with her. That place in my heart is already taken, albeit by a dead girl, but I’m claimed nonetheless. It’s like when my mouth touched hers—I was branded. I belonged to her, and her to me. There was no turning back. Whether she survived or not, it makes no difference. She’s the face I see when I have sex with any other girl beneath me. I search for that void where we can meet again in my mind. I’m not touching her physically, but when I close my eyes and imagine it’s her—it’s the only thing that gets me off. Needless to say, no living, breathing woman wants to be a vessel for my twisted fantasies. How can I ask that of Jada?

The bathroom door creaks open and Jada sashays into the kitchen with a towel around her head and the most ludicrous ensemble I’ve ever seen. The sweatshirt is hanging off one arm, exposing her bare shoulder. The shorts are drooping well below her waist and the socks are pulled up to her knees. She reminds me of some kind of garden gnome or crazy bag lady.

“I’m going to need a drink if I have to look like this for the next hour or so.” She reaches for the bottle opener as the oven beeps. “Yay, pizza! I’m starving.”

“Well, hold on. It’s gonna be a little while until it’s ready.” I place it carefully on the rack and hit the timer. “Where’s your uniform? I’ll throw it in the dryer.” If only she was breezy and free with every aspect of her life. Maybe then she might consider my indecent proposal, but I can’t take the risk.

“Oh man, let me get it. It’s balled up on the bathroom floor.” She takes a sip of beer. She spins around and the sudden movement unravels the towel around her head. Her wet hair settles around her shoulders and she looks as sexy as hell.

“No need. I got it. You just kick back and relax.” I watch her as she hoists herself onto the counter and crosses her legs. What I wouldn’t give to be between them at this moment.

Gathering her clothes, I notice that she left her bra and panties behind as well. I finger the lacy material molding the cup of the bra to the palm of my hand. According to the tag, she’s a 34D. The emerald green color must look amazing against her skin. I really want to pocket the panties and keep them for myself. But she might come looking for them later. I better not chance it. Scooping everything up, I walk the few paces to the dryer and toss it all in. Regret fills me as her lingerie passes through my hands.

“Hey, Adam, got any more beer?” There’s an infectious quality to her voice like she’s finally letting loose and I’m getting the chance to see it.

“I sure do. Bottom shelf.” I linger a minute longer. What happens if she gets drunk? Am I the kind of guy to take advantage of the situation? Plus, I only have one bed. Where is she going to sleep? It’s rude to ask a guest to take the couch, but there’s no way I can fit on it. My legs are too long.

“Can I open you another one too?” She’s getting brazen now, and I kind of like it.

Gathering my determination, I reenter the kitchen. “Yeah, I’d love another one.” Clinking her bottle against mine, she smiles up at me.

“After a day like today, I’m so glad I have a former lifeguard as my partner.” She prances to the sliding glass door and looks out at the surrounding mountain. “You deserve more than a beer for what you did, Adam. You deserve…”

“A kiss?” I interrupt her and her eyes widen. She wasn’t expecting that, but she doesn’t deem the suggestion unpleasant. Waltzing over to my side, she stands on tiptoe placing her hands on my shoulders. My breath catches as she pulls my face even with hers. Her mouth opens slightly and I think she’s going to kiss me on the lips. But at the last minute, she changes her mind and plants one in the middle of my forehead. Rocking back on her heels, she grins at me wickedly.

“How’s that?” There’s a mischievous gleam in her eye that I’m not used to. She’s usually not this playful. If I play my cards right, we can have a lot of fun tonight.

“I think you can do better. Much better.” I lower my voice and she tilts her head. I struck a nerve, but will she take me up on my offer or blow me off?

She doesn’t have a chance to make a decision because the timer goes off. The pizza’s ready.

We don’t immediately break eye contact with each other. I let her squirm for a couple of beats before turning away. It’s such a dance. Repel, attract. Push, pull. Encourage, discourage. It’ll only make her want me more.

“So why did you give up lifeguarding?” And little does she know she’s hit me where it hurts. It’s not a subject I feel comfortable discussing. But if I shrug it off, she’s only going to question me more. Maybe I should be painfully direct.

“Because I lost someone there too.” Can you handle that, Jada? I’m practically the angel of death. Run away. Run far away.

My remark seems to sober her up pretty quickly. “What happened?” She pauses, examining my face, but I turn away from her scrutiny in order to remove the pizza from the oven. Cursing as I burn my fingers, I rush it onto a tray and begin cutting it into four large slices.

“There was a riptide warning. The beach was closed, but we were still supposed to monitor the shore to make sure no one went in the water.” Another painful memory I’d like to forget. Unfortunately, selective amnesia is not an option. Many of the people I knew in California think I left because my girlfriend cheated on me. But really that’s not the case. I was so torn up over watching the ocean carry someone away. I couldn’t look at the swell of the waves the same way again. And what’s my fate? To come here and have Katie Turner die in my arms. Yeah, running from your past really works, doesn’t it?

Jada is watching me expectantly, and I don’t even realize I stopped talking. Handing her a plate, I take a bite before resuming the story of yet another one of my failures. “It was pretty much deserted until I got to the end of my run. There was a solitary beach umbrella waving in the breeze with two towels spread beneath it. I scanned the horizon and saw two people flailing relatively close to shore.”

Reliving this is going to be more difficult than I thought. I finish my second beer and reach for my third. “I charged through the surf up to my waist when I began to feel the pull. I couldn’t believe the couple was so far out in front of me already. There was no way I could reach them. So I threw the flotation device I was holding. I put everything I had into it. If it didn’t reach, they were doomed. The woman struggled with all her might to get to it, and somehow she managed to grasp it. Tugging the rope, I hauled her in an inch at a time my toes digging into the sand while the man got pulled farther out.”

“Before you entered the water, why didn’t you call for help?” And I’m not surprised that she questions me. She’s a paramedic after all. It’s second nature.

“I acted on impulse. I was young, naïve, overconfident. I thought I had it under control. I began to panic when I saw the guy’s head go under. I kept yelling over and over for him to swim parallel to the shore, not to exhaust himself by trying to come back in. I thought he could ride it out and find his way back farther down the beach. But he was tiring.” I rub my chin nervously, suddenly aware that my hand is unsteady. “Finally, I hauled the woman in. She tumbled out of the waves, choking when she got a mouthful. I helped her reach dry land, but I didn’t want to take my eyes off the guy. I couldn’t lose him, not now.”

“Adam, it seems like a no-win situation. There’s nothing anyone could have done if it was taking him out that fast.” She leans forward, touching my arm. It’s a consoling gesture, but it leaves me cold. I know the truth. I screwed up.

“All I had was a whistle, and I sounded it repeatedly hoping that I could direct him to keep moving horizontally and follow my hand signals. If he could get out of the riptide, he had a chance to make it back to shore. And he tried, he really did. But he was older and didn’t have the endurance.” I wipe away the solitary tear that’s rolling down my face. “He must’ve cramped up or something because he dipped beneath the surface and I could see he was really struggling. He bobbed there for a moment and then he went under. And that was it.”

Jada doesn’t say anything. She just squeezes my hand. But I’m numb. Her comfort does little to soothe me. I’m that far gone.

“The woman on the beach was hysterical. She witnessed the whole thing. She saw her husband drown right in front of her eyes while the stupid lifeguard just stood there blowing a whistle.” I have to chuckle at the absurdity of it. “His body washed to shore with the morning tide. A jogger found it, bloated and discolored. Since they were on vacation away from home, his wife had to ID the body. It’s an image no one should have of their loved ones.”

“How long after this did the incident with Katie…?” Just Jada saying her name pierces my heart. It’s so unnatural. It’s not right.

Reclining back in my chair, I look up at the ceiling, trying to calculate the time frame between the two. “Roughly a year.” If this ratio holds true, I’ll have lost dozens of victims by the end of my career. What a grizzly thought.

“With either case, did you receive any reprimands or citations?” It’s like she’s shooting her inquiry at point-blank range.

“No.” I know what she’s getting at, but it doesn’t ease my guilt. Not one bit.

“But you’ll still carry them with you always, won’t you?” There’s a sense of understanding emanating from her. Like we’re in this together, even though we’re not.

“I was the last person they turned to for help in this life, and I couldn’t deliver. I let them down. They passed on because of my inability to save them.” With the back of my hand, I shove my plate away from me. I’m not hungry any more.

“But is it a personal thing? If another lifeguard or paramedic was in the exact same situation, do you think they could have saved them?” She’s seeking an honest answer to something that I still can’t resolve myself. I’ll tell her what she wants to hear. What she’s expects me to say.