In a Rush

Chapter 1

chapter one

Emme

Today’s Learning Objective:

Students will make a splashy exit.

I should’ve known we wouldn’t have a happy ending the first time he tried to kill me.

I’d laughed it off as an honest mistake while I clutched an oxygen mask to my face with thick, swollen fingers and a tongue that lolled out of my mouth. Laughed as much as anyone held hostage by their immune system could. Yes, he failed to mention his famous corn chowder was loaded with crab. It was an easy mistake when you didn’t grow up with an outrageously sensitive shellfish allergy.

Anyway, Teddy Lazarone was a firefighter. He knew what to do when my throat closed and he knew the EMTs who carted me to the hospital well enough to compare fantasy football stats while I wheezed. So I spent the night in the ER with docs marveling at the extent of my allergic response and pulling in every med student in the building to get a look at the way my tongue turned into a gag. Wasn’t the first time.

Except it happened two more times in a year, and now—now, standing outside his apartment, a bag of shellfish-free food heavy on my wrist and my key a second from slipping into the lock—I heard “Harder. Harder. ”

That voice, it belonged to a woman.

I knew without question there was someone on the other side of this door with Teddy. That wasn’t TV or porn or anything else. Teddy was inside his open-plan loft apartment and he was in there with a woman. Who wanted it harder.

I’d always hated that he positioned the bed so close to the entryway. Everyone who visited was immediately in his bedroom. Seemed like a mistake.

God, so many mistakes.

“Baby, I’ll give it to you as hard as you want,” he ground out, the thin walls doing nothing to muffle the sounds of mattress springs and slapping skin, “but you’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow.”

My cheeks burned like his palm had cracked across either side of my face. He’d said those exact words to me, that exact way, not four nights ago. He’d called me baby and I’d loved it.

I’d felt so special, so chosen. So precious. I’d felt like we had something real. Like the ring I’d found in his drawer last month was meant for me.

But I wasn’t special. I’d never been special, not to anyone.

Now I was hot, boiling over with shame and anger, but also cold— so cold —and empty. All of this was made worse, if that was even possible, when the bag digging grooves into my wrist broke and my precarious pyramid of foil-covered dishes crashed to the floor. A mess of fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, baked beans, and coleslaw spilled all over my winter boots.

Teddy loved a home-cooked meal after a long stretch at the firehouse. I’d planned to surprise him. An early Valentine’s Day since he was scheduled to work this weekend and we wouldn’t be together for the holiday. I’d grated all that cheese for the macaroni by hand. I’d spent the whole afternoon telling myself he’d love it. Maybe he’d love it enough to finally propose.

I’d even made a fresh, dill-y chicken soup for myself. The last time I’d cooked a whole meal for him, he’d made a point of telling me I didn’t need the same amount of calories he did. He wanted me to start eating a little lighter. My scratch-made popovers and scalloped potatoes were out of this world, but I didn’t need that kind of fat and carbs.

And I’d listened to that bullshit. I’d believed it.

I couldn’t believe how stupid I was.

The snap of his rusty old bedframe against the wall slowed. He grumbled something that I couldn’t make out before she asked, “Did you hear that?”

“Neighbors. Don’t worry about it.” He slapped her ass. It was a sound I’d know anywhere. Up until five minutes ago, I’d believed him when he said he had never once wanted to leave his handprint anywhere until he got ahold of my ass. “Be quiet and let me finish.”

Uh, yeah. I was familiar with that one too.

A hard, bitter laugh ripped its way up my throat. I stared down at the beans and macaroni clinging to my boots, the chicken buried under a heap of coleslaw around me. And I couldn’t stop laughing.

There were more sounds from inside the apartment and then stomped footsteps. The door banged open, revealing Teddy with a towel clutched to his waist. I saw the snarl coming before he roared, “What the fuck?” His jaw went slack as he blinked at me. He blinked to the side. Toward the bed. Then, much less of a roar. “Oh. Hey. What’s up?”

My laughter died as I shook my head. My eyes burned, but I wouldn’t let that happen. No crying tonight. Not here. Not in front of him.

But Teddy and I weren’t the only ones here.

A pretty face peeked around the doorframe. Dark, sex-tousled hair spilled over her shoulders as she pinned the hem of Teddy’s t-shirt to her thighs. “Is everything okay?”

I leveled my coldest, most brutal, most detached stare at Teddy. “Great,” I drawled. Panic filled his eyes as I went on severing every emotional tie I had to him with that glare. “But I wouldn’t expect Teddy to explain it. He seems to have trouble remembering important details.”

I kicked the chicken and beans away from my boots and strolled down the stairs like I couldn’t care less.

I was good at acting like I didn’t care.