Rekindle (12 page)

CHAPTE
R NINTEEN

NICK

Tired, frustrated and annoyed, I corner Tina in the supply room.  Enough is enough and it’s about damn time we have this out.  Together or not together, I can deal with it, but this back and forth shit is too much.  If she can’t say what she wants, I’ll force it out of her.

“What the hell are you doing?” she cuts in, trying to squeeze past me.  Putting up my arm, I block her escape route and take another step closer, pinning her back against the wall.  Like a caged animal, she looks up at me with fear and determination in her eyes.

“I’ve had about enough of this shit.  You want me, you don’t want me.  You go on a date but flip your shit when I just dance with someone.  You want to move on and I can’t.  Make up your fucking mind, Tina.  For once, just do what the fuck feels right.” 

“After that shit with Flynn, it proves you’ve not changed.  You only care about yourself.  And sometimes there’s just too much water under the bridge.”

“What’s so hard about it?  Do you love me?” I ask, ready for her to finally put me out of my misery or step up to the plate. 

“Nick,” she whispers, pushing on my chest, but I’m not moving.  Not until this game is finished. 

“Christina.  Answer the question,” I command, pushing even closer until our bodies are flush.

“Yes,” she breathes.  “But love isn’t everything.  You know that. 
We
know that.”

“Bullshit!” I yell, her head jerking at my harsh tone.  Taking a deep breath—okay, maybe a few of them—I get my emotions in check.  “If you love me, let’s try again.  None of this casual shit.  We’re in one hundred percent.  Both of us.”

“It won’t work.  Nothing’s changed.  You’ve not changed.  I can’t get hurt again.” 

“Seriously? 
You
can’t get hurt again?  Is this a fucking joke? 
You
walked out on
me
.  When I
needed
you.  You left.  You didn’t fight.  You bailed.  And
you
don’t want to get hurt again?” I seethe.  Slamming my hand on the wall behind her head, she flinches and tries to crawl inside herself.  “You broke me, Tina,” I say in a softer tone.  “I’ve tried to fight against wanting you back.  God, I’ve tried.  I’ve tried to block out memories, forget things from our past, ignore the way you smell and the way you feel.  Hell, I’ve even asked my therapist how to get you the fuck out of my head, and nothing works.  Maybe nothing works because I’m not supposed to forget.  Maybe we’re supposed to do this.  Together.”

“You’re seeing someone?” she asks, her voice soft and compassionate. 

“Is that all you took out of what I said?”

She just looks at me.  Her eyes pleading, but shocking to me there isn’t one ounce of pity in the chocolate depths.  “Yes,” I grunt.  “I needed to get through some stuff.  Tried by myself for a while and it wasn’t working.  The chief set me up with a good dude.  Got a lot of shit under control.”

“Nick,” she whispers, leaning forward and resting her head on my chest.  Wrapping her arms around my middle, I’m confused to say the least.  Maybe it’s her who needs to see someone.  Mood swing city over here.  “I’m so happy.”

Rising up on her toes, she plants a small kiss on the corner of my mouth.  Unable, maybe unwilling, to let this moment pass, I turn into her kiss and take one for my own.  Licking across the seam of her mouth, a small moan escapes her throat and that’s the only sign I need to continue. 

Hands become grabby, kisses become sloppy, arousal becomes thick in the air and we’re both lost to our desires.  Gripping the hem of her tee shirt, I forcefully lift it over her head and toss it to the ground behind me.  Tina’s impatient hands fumble with my belt and fly, eventually getting them open. 

“What about Flynn?” I ask, not really wanting to know the answer, but needing to make sure she’s in this as much as I am.  I can’t take her walking away again.  And not to the arms of another man.

“It’s not what you think.  Just leave it at that, please,” she pleads, kissing her way down my neck.  That’s good enough for me.

In the blink of an eye, Tina’s jumping into my arms wearing only a bra and underwear and my own pants are around my ankles as I pull aside the face fabric, align myself at her entrance and lower her onto my cock.  I quickly thrust, bottoming out and giving Tina a second to ease past the discomfort before I begin moving.

With Tina’s hands in my hair, pulling and holding me to her while she kisses me long and deep, my fingers massage the firm globes of her ass, slowly raising and lowering her.  Pushing her closer to the wall for support, I use one hand to hold her up and the other to pull out her breast and suck one nipple into my mouth.  Leaning her head back, her throaty moans echo in the small space.

“Oh my God,” she cries and I smile around her tit.  Bending slightly at the knees, my thrusts become more rapid, desperately seeking my release as well as hers.  When her walls clamp around me, starting to pulse around my cock, it shoves me into a frenzy where the only thing that matters is our mutual satisfaction.  I shove the side of my hand to Tina’s mouth and she clamps down, biting through her orgasm, effectively pushing me over the edge as well.

The moment I lower her back to the ground, both of our breathing heavy and the scent of sex lingering in the air, I smile coyly and she blushes.  “You ready to give it a go?” I ask, handing Tina her pants.

“What if it doesn’t work?” she asks, pulling on her shirt.

“What if it does?” I retort, zipping my fly.  “You once said I was the smartest man you knew.  Are you doubting my expert opinion?” I joke.

Her mouth opens to respond and the alarm sounds overhead, calling out for my truck and her ambulance.

“Rain check?” she asks, pulling her hair tight in a ponytail.  Groaning, I kiss her on top of the head and open the supply closet door.  I let her walk out first, me following closely behind. 

As I’m shoving my feet in my boots and pulling my coveralls up over my uniform, I glance over at Tina who’s smiling from the passenger side of her rig.  Winking, I take second chair in the truck and within seconds, we’re both peeling out of the firehouse headed to our call.

Arriving on scene, all that happened with Tina only moments ago is pushed to the back of my mind.  There’s work to be done, people to save.

The fire itself doesn’t look too bad, but the building is in really bad condition.  An abandoned house, like any other call, but I can’t escape the dread I feel staring at the three-story structure.  Looking like an old Victorian mansion, the smoke billows out of the second story windows.

Giving direction to my crew, Mack and I make entry first.  Jones stays behind with Richards to work the hose once we’ve cleared the house.  Everything around me is a blur, except for the task at hand.  The main floor seems untouched as we’re making our way through.

“Fire department.  Anyone in here?” I call out, blocking out everything else, listening for a response.  Room by room, we assess the main floor is clear.

With Mack on my heels, we carefully go to the second level, where the fire’s most likely burning an inferno, and begin our search.  Opening the door, the smoke comes out in a rush.  I drop to a crouch and slowly, yet effectively, start looking for victims.

“Fire department,” Mack says from behind me.  Scouring the floor, looking for arms, legs, any sign of life really, we’re about to go back downstairs when a small arm catches my attention. 

“Over here!” I yell, crawling toward the body.  Pushing aside an overturned end table and some boxes, the arm appears to be attached to a little boy, eight or nine maybe. 

Mack’s by my side, helping me to pull the kid from his hiding spot.  Fury washes over me as I wonder what kind of parent don’t know where their child is or lets them play in abandoned houses.  Then I remember the crowd of kids that were hanging around outside when we pulled up.  I wouldn’t be surprised if they were all in here, shit went wrong and they scattered, except they forgot their friend.  Shaking my head, I grab the kid in my arms and start carrying him to the stairs.

“Here, you take him.  I’m going to do one last sweep,” I tell Mack, handing off the child and watch the two of them make their way out to safety.  Going back to where I found the boy, I search quickly, listening to the fire crackle around me and the floorboards cracking beneath my feet.  I have a matter of seconds to get out of here before the floor gives way. 

“Fire department!” I yell in one final effort to save anyone left behind.  No answer.  No response. 

“I’m coming out, Max.  Go ahead and hit it with water,” I say into my radio, making my way back to the stairs when one foot slips through the floor.  Pain immediately sears through my leg as something rips my pants.  I reach for my radio again to call for help and the other leg goes through.

I briefly remember falling through the floor, my body landing hard on the cement.  It feels like I fall forever.  With debris on top of my body, moving from my current position is a futile effort. Every time I try, sharp, shooting pains radiate through my entire body.  I lie there lifelessly and my alarm starts to beep and the only thing I can think is at least I laid it all out for Tina before I died.  At least she’ll never have to wonder how I felt about her.  She’ll know she was loved.

And then everything goes black.

CHAPTER TWENTY

TINA

“Someone give me your fucking coat!” I yell to the group of firemen standing around the ambulance.  I know they hear me, but dammit, they won’t make eye contact.  When everyone else ran out, minus Nick, my heart plummeted.  Nick is in that building somewhere and I’m going to find him if they won’t.  He could be hurt … or worse.

“I can’t let you go in there, Mitchell,” the chief whispers, pulling me into his side.  Both of us watch the building, the flames slowly being extinguished on the upper level.  When they cut the hose, I turn toward Max and tell him exactly what’s about to happen.

“You’re not letting me do anything.  I’m going in.  Only question is will someone give me their coat?”  Shaking his head, he taps Cortland on the shoulder and strips him of his coat, handing it to me.

“You’re with Jones, do you hear me?  You stay with him.  Do not leave his side.  Not for anything,” he orders and I nod my head.  “Say it out loud, Tina.”

“Yes, sir,” I mutter, shrugging into the oversized coat and grabbing an oxygen tank, mask and my emergency bag. 

“Ready?” Jones asks, pausing outside the entrance to the enflamed building.

“Ready.”  My voice comes out muffled and shaky.  I am ready.  If Nick’s injured and needs immediate attention, I’m his best chance of making it out of this building alive.  A four alarm fire is nothing to joke about.  I shouldn’t be going in—nobody should—but we have a man down in here.  My man’s down in there.  Either we all go home or none of us … isn’t that part of the unorthodox firefighter’s credo or something?

With my hand on Jones’s back, he leads me through the door and to the right.  Feeling his body crouch low, I follow suit, assuming he knows far more about this than I do.  After a few steps, my thighs burn in protest, but I continue his lead until we reach a flight of stairs.  Over the leaking water from above, the roar of commotion outside and the crackling of the flames being suffocated nearby, I hear Jones’s voice.

“Last communication we had, he was on three.  That’s when the floor gave way.  We searched two and the main floor.  Only other place he could be is in the basement.  Watch my step, Mitchell.  The captain would have our asses if he knew we were going in on a rescue.  Say a prayer.”  And I do.  Say a prayer, that is.

My heart leaps that Jones is referring to our actions as a rescue mission as opposed to recovery.  There’s still hope.  There’s still a chance Nick’s alive.  He might be hurt, but they think there’s a possibility.  I can work with a possibility. 

Holding on to the railing, we make our way down the dark and dreary stairwell, all the while I’m saying prayers that it’ll be here after we find Nick.  At the base, Jones takes both of our flashlights and illuminates parts of the basement.  From what I can see, while crouching behind Jones, there’s a lot of debris—wood beams, shards of metal and so much swirling smoke.

“Do you see him?” I ask, immediately being told to hush.  Okay, he didn’t say anything, but by the sharp look he gives me, his brows furrowed and ears perked like a dog on a mission, I don’t have to ask.  He wants me to be quiet.

Then I hear it.

Rapid beeping.  Low pitched, but loud enough for me to hear it over the roaring blood in my ears.  Oh my God, how could I have been so stupid?  The alarm he wears on his uniform.  The one that lets us know where he is in case of injury so he can be rescued.

Slowly, we make our way toward the direction of the beeping, stopping every few feet to make sure we’re heading in the right direction.  Finally, after making our way halfway across the basement, we come across a large pile of debris.  I risk a glance up and the giant hole in the ceiling and then the ceiling above that one has my heart racing.  This has to be where he is.  But how do we get to him? 

“Conrad, call out!” Jones yells, rushing to the pile and haphazardly throwing wood and metal from the side.

Nick doesn’t respond.

“What should I do?” I ask, panic setting in.  I can save a life, perform CPR, even do an emergency procedure or two, but this?  I don’t have the faintest idea of what I can possibly do to help Jones.

“Grab shit.  Move it off.  Listen for his alarm to get louder,” he barks, never moving from his task.  Stepping next to Jones, I do exactly as he’s doing, but with smaller, more maneuverable pieces.  One by one, slowly but surely, we have an idea of where Nick’s located as the alarm bells continue getting louder, just as Jones predicted.

“Over here!” Jones yells to me, lying on his belly and reaching into a small hole.  “He’s in here.  Come here,” he demands again. 

Dropping the scrap metal, I rush to his side, careful to not trip on any of the mess we’ve created.  Lying on my stomach right next to Jones, I aim my flashlight to where he’s pointing and see Nick’s mangled hand where the end of the light reaches. 

“Oh God,” I cry, reaching my arm inside, only able to graze his fingers, but they respond to mine, curling toward him when I scoot closer to rest my palm on his.

“He’s alive!” I cry.  “How do we get him out?”

“I’m not sure.  Let me try a few things.  You just stay here.”

Jones flies to his feet and within seconds the sounds of metal hitting metal, wood scraping across the floor and wire flinging through the air scare the hell out of me, so I can only imagine how Nick’s feeling.  His fingers tighten against mine and I reassuringly squeeze as much as I can.

“I’m here,” I whisper, but no response from Nick again. 

Boots pounding on the cement floor jar me from my private moment with Nick.  Angling my head, I can slightly make out at least six more feet.  More metal grinding on metal.  Then, I can move closer.  The hole I’m slightly inside of widens and I can nearly fit my entire body inside. 

They’ve cleared a path.

“Watch out, Mitchell.  We’re gonna get him out,” one of the guys, I’m not sure which one, assures me, pulling me away from Nick.  His fingers try to curl around mine, but I pull my arm back.

“They’re getting you out.  Hold on for me, please.  I love you,” I yell as I’m picked up by the waist and pulled away from the pile.

Sitting, my legs tucked under me and my knees feeling the pain of resting against the cement, I wring my hands together, praying they get to him in time.  Tears leak from my eyes, no matter how hard I try to hold them back.  My heart races faster than it’s ever beat before.  They need to hurry.  He won’t be able to hold on much longer.  I’m not sure how I know that, but I do.  In my gut, I know.

“On three,” Jones says, and all the guys surround the area where they can get to Nick.

“One.  Two.  Three.  Pull.”  Each man grunts, a different octave for each voice, and strains to pull Nick to safety.  Hours pass, maybe they’re only seconds, but they feel like forever, but the alarm bells get louder and louder until it feels like they’re right in front of me.

They are.

Nick’s out.

His broken body lies just before me.  Jones tosses me the emergency bag I brought down with me and like second nature, I get to work, putting aside that the man lying in front of me is one I care so deeply for.  I forget that once upon a time he was my husband.  And possibly still my happily ever after.  Never mind the fact that as soon as I save his life, I’m going to kill him for putting me through this hell.

Never love a firefighter.  They can only break your heart.  But if you happen to fall for one, get ready for the most intense ride of your life.  Not only are you terrified when they leave for work each day, they bring a deeper meaning to ‘live like you’re dying.’  There won’t be a second that passes that you don’t know in the eyes of the firefighter who loves you, the moon rises and sets for you and you alone.  A firefighter will love you like there’s no tomorrow, and that’s the only way I want to be loved.

“Nick.  It’s me.  I’m here.  Stay with me, baby,” I whisper, unzipping his coat and cutting his shirt straight down the middle. 

Just looking over him, I’d be surprised if he didn’t break every bone in his body.  Putting the stethoscope in my ears, I listen for a heartbeat.  It’s there but faint.  But he’s alive. 

“Can we get a backboard down here?” I yell over my shoulder to anyone who’s listening.  I briefly hear Jones ask for one, I assume over the radio.  A few more pairs of boots make their way to me with a backboard in tow. 

“I need you guys to help me roll him on, but be careful.”  I wrap a C-Collar around his neck, kissing his nose when it’s Velcroed in place.  Jones, Mack and Richards pull Nick’s body to the side as I slide the backboard underneath him.  Once he’s secured in place, the guys waste no time getting him to the stairs and carefully walking him up and out of the building.

The minute the sun touches my face, I strip off the coat, mask and hat, running in the direction of my ambulance.  Frankie is already getting to work on Nick and I’m thankful I didn’t get paired with a rookie.  The girl’s new, but at the same time, she doesn’t have the mindset of a probe.  She’s advanced and I’m damn glad she’s by my side.

“I got him, you drive,” I bark, but she doesn’t look offended.  Doing exactly as I ask, we load the gurney in the back of the ambo, me climbing in back with Nick and Frankie taking the driver’s seat.  Lights and sirens wail as we weave through traffic to the nearest hospital. 

I place the leads on Nick’s chest and turn on the portable machines.  Putting a nasal cannula in his nose, I turn up the oxygen and hold his hand, praying nothing goes wrong.

“I love you so much.  Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” I cry, squeezing his hand a little tighter. 

“We’re a fucking ambulance.  How about you get the hell out of my way!” Frankie screams, taking a hard turn and probably running over in her head the asshole who didn’t think to get out of the way. 

“Tina,” Nick’s hoarse voice calls.

“I’m here, baby.  Save your strength.  You’re in for the hospital trip of a lifetime.”  Stroking the inside of his palm with my fingers, his eyes flutter open and close right after. 

“Hurts,” he groans and my heart breaks.  Nobody should have to be in this much pain, especially someone I love.

“I know.  It’ll be better soon.”  I reach for the morphine we keep locked away, prepared to load a syringe and make him feel a little less for as long as I can.

“No.”  He squeezes my hand as tightly as he can.  His eyes open, but don’t close again.  I look into them, hiding away any of my own fears and smile so he knows he’s going to be okay.  Nick’s lips, ever so slightly, turn upward for a brief moment before his eyes roll backward and the alarm on the machine goes off.

“No, dammit.  No!” I scream, pulling out the portable defibrillator.  “You’re going to fucking live.  Do you hear me?”

Placing the pads on his chest, I wait for the machine to indicate a full charge, then I hit the button, sending shocks to his heart, hopefully bringing him back to me.  The first round goes off, and no response. 

“Pushing epi,” I call out, knowing the recorder will catch everything I do so it can be put in his chart.

Setting up the defibrillator again, the electrodes deliver another blast of electricity to his heart, this time the monitor picking up a rhythm. 

“I’m going to kill you, Nick.  Don’t do that shit again,” I sigh.  Just as I’m about to remove the pads, we pull into the hospital’s ambulance bay.  Doctors and nurses open the doors and pull out the gurney.

“He’s not had anything for pain.  I pushed 2 of Epi,” I inform the hospital staff on autopilot.  I need to take off this damn uniform and just be his wife for a minute. 

Frankie instructs me to go to the waiting room, she’ll take care of all the paperwork, and for that I’m grateful.  I’m not sure I could spell my own name right, let alone ensure everything Nick’s going to need is documented.  Stripping out of the blue uniform shirt, I toss it in the back of the ambulance and walk to the waiting room wearing only a white undershirt and navy pants. 

Taking the first chair I see, I wait … and wait … and wait even longer.  The doctor isn’t the first person I lay eyes on, instead the chief and the rest of the guys make their way over toward me.  None of them offer any words, only a quick pat on the back, and take seats surrounding me, flanking me … as if they’re protecting me. 

Doctors in white coats pass by, none of them stopping to inform me or the guys of anything.  Frankie reappears a short time later, taking a chair across from me, a tight smile on her face.  Another eternity passes before Nick’s doctor finally emerges.

“Family of Nicholas Conrad?” he asks, noticing an entire waiting room full of Detroit’s finest.

“Yes,” we all answer in unison and he smiles.

“Mr. Conrad is going to be fine.  We got him stabilized and sent up to surgery.  He’s got a rough road ahead of him, but we have every indication he’ll pull through.”

For the first time since we lost contact with Nick earlier tonight, I breathe a sigh of relief.  He’s going to be fine.  He’s really going to live.

I tell all the guys and Frankie to head home for the night.  That there’s nothing more for them to do but squeeze and kiss their own families.  Reluctantly, they all follow my orders, leaving me in the waiting room on my own.  I’m actually happy with the peace and quiet I’m afforded for a short amount of time. 

Six long, grueling hours pass before I’m greeted by another doctor, who I assume to be the surgeon.  He informs me Nick made it through surgery wonderfully and as soon as the ICU nurses are done getting him situated, someone will come get me and take me back to see him.