6. Chapter Six
Chapter six
“ C ai, you’ve got a visitor!” Kempler yells through the side door.
I’m not expecting anyone, so curiosity almost kills me as I head out into the bay. To my surprise, Jackson Whitmore stands beside one of the engines chatting with a few of the guys. The moment he sees me, his demeanor relaxes. I have a bad feeling about this. We agreed we’d catch up, but I’ve been working a lot of overtime and haven’t had time to message him. Still, for him to show up unannounced gives me bad news vibes.
“Hey, wasn’t expecting to see you today. What’s up?” I ask and reach out to shake his hand.
“Uh, any chance we can chat in private for a sec?” His eyes dart toward the guys and my worry is validated.
Kempler nods toward the main room. “Let’s go clean up and get ready for training.” The men follow him even though he’s not in charge of anything, let alone dishing out orders.
Once the bay is clear, Jackson adjusts his stance and runs both hands through his hair. “Listen, I know we said we’d catch up and I haven’t called. It’s just been busy at the office and things with my sister are…I mean…Look, I know it’s been a long time and I have no right to ask this of you, but I need your help with Tulip.”
My heart rate increases and a heavy sensation settles in my gut. “What’s going on?”
Jackson sighs and leans against the truck. “When we visited last month, she was in decent spirits. She had hope that she’d regain feeling in her hand and get back to work soon, but it doesn’t look good. The neurologist said it could be a year or more, if she ever gets feeling back at all. She’s out of work now, and I honestly don’t think she’ll ever be a surgeon again.”
Get the feeling back in her hand? What is he talking about?
“Jax, I don’t understand. When you were here, you both played it off like she was doing well. She doesn’t have feeling in her hand?” I can’t help the sharp edge to my voice, but all this time I thought my friend was on the mend, only to discover she’d lied. They both did.
“She didn’t want to make you or the others feel like you did anything wrong. You all were amazing in getting her out of that car, and you staying with her at the hospital meant the world to her. And it’s like I said, she was sure she’d be back to work by now. We didn’t anticipate the long-term damage being so bad.”
“But she’s not improving. She’s spiraling, isn’t she?” It isn’t like Whits is chronically depressed, but when disaster strikes, she’s the type who shuts down for a bit, has to suffer through the disappointment of it, then figures out a plan to move on. I’ve always known that about her, and my guess is that’s not something that changes even after a decade of zero communication. When Little Miss Sunshine hit a storm cloud, it always took her out for a while, but she always managed to shine even brighter on the other side of it. She can’t have changed that much.
“I think so. She stopped calling, missed a regular coffee date with my wife, and when I went to see her today I found an epic disaster. Her house is an absolute wreck, and I’m not sure when she showered last. I’m surprised the county hasn’t condemned her place by now.”
I frown and glare at Jackson. He’s always been overly dramatic, especially when it comes to Whits. “It can’t be that bad.”
“It’s bad enough that I’m standing here with you, begging you to go talk to her.” He pushes off the truck like he might have to stop me from running away from the problem.
“What do you mean? You want me talk to her? There is no reason she would listen to me over her family. What could I possibly say that you haven’t?”
“Oh, please, you know as well as I do that you were the only one who ever got through that thick skull of hers. There’s something about you that forces compliance out of my sister like no one else can, and I think right now she needs a little of that. You know, someone who isn’t her annoying little brother hounding her half to death to get up and remake her life no matter how much it sucks.”
I chuckle. “What you’re saying is, you don’t want to make your big sister mad at you, but you have no problem sending me in to take a few hits? Some things never change.”
Jackson steps forward, a little into my space. “I’m begging you. Please, if you ever cared about my sister and her well-being, please go talk to her. She won’t listen to me or my wife or our parents. It’s not like when we were kids and she’d get quiet for a few days while she worked through a problem.” He swallows hard, like the next part burns his throat. “She said she wishes she’d died in the accident. That it might have been better. I need you to try to get through to her. Please.”
His desperation echoes in his words and it hits me like a freight train. He’s afraid for her, and his worry oozes from him and right into my gut. If he’s concerned, then so am I. “I’m not sure I’ll do much good after all these years, but I’ll go. I’ll talk to her. You have my word that I’ll do everything I can.”
“That’s all I’m asking for. Just to try. I don’t know what else to do,” he says.
We get a tone and I have to get ready to respond to a smoke sighting. For the first time in my life, I’m not excited to do my job. I’d rather clock out and go check on Whits, but I’m not paid to worry about that right now. I need to focus on my job and then what she might need from me.
“I gotta go, but I’ll go by after work. Pray she still likes me more than she likes you and doesn’t eat me alive. Text me her address.”
Jackson gets out of the way while we get our gear on and fly out of the firehouse. I catch a glimpse of him in the side mirror as we pull out of the lot. He’s headed back to his car but his whole body carries the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“Everything okay?” Kempler asks.
“Yeah,” I say and get my head in the game. There are fires to put out, the real kind. Any others will have to wait.
There is every reason to believe that Jackson is overreacting, at least, it would not be outside of the norm for him, assuming nothing has changed. But the moment I step up onto the front porch of the address he texted me, I know something is wrong. It lacks Whits’ sparkle, her sunshiny inspiration. It also stinks all the way outside.
I hesitate for only a moment. Maybe we did fall away and not speak for a long while, but that doesn’t mean I stopped caring about her. She might chase me off, but the least I can do for her is check in. I knock and wait. When no one answers, I ring the doorbell and knock again. Eventually, the door lock clicks, it creaks open, and I’m met with an angry woman.
“Jackson, for the last time—oh.” She cuts herself off midsentence when her gaze lifts to mine. Somewhere under that greasy hair, spaghetti sauce stained shirt, baggy pajama pants, and bad attitude is my sweet Whits, and there’s no way I’m leaving here without finding her. “Cai, what are you doing here?”
I lean on her doorframe and glance over her shoulder. “I came to check on you.”
She sighs and crosses her arms. “Jackson sent you, didn’t he?”
“Yep. And just like old times, I’m here to annoy you until you do what he wants.” I raise my eyebrows, waiting for the usual response.
“Not a chance. He wants me to move in with him until I’m healed, which could be never. I’m not living with my bother, or anyone else for that matter, so forget it.” Right about now is when I’d expect most people to slam a door in my face, but not Whits. She repositions her feet, tightens up her arms, and scowls. She’s adorable.
“Look, I get not wanting to do that. I’m not here for that, but I am here to help you clean up your house, work through what bothers you, and help you figure out how to get back on your feet. Now, can I come in?”
She steps aside and motions as if she’s laying out a red carpet for me. “Be my guest, but you’ll be bored. I’m going back to bed.”
I check my watch. “Back to bed? Whits, it’s almost five in the afternoon.”
“And? Like I told Jackson, I was up late. I don’t have a job, so what does it matter when I sleep?” She glances around at her disaster. “Or clean.”
The inside of her house is as Jackson said: an abominably-sized catastrophe. It’ll take us a week to clean this. “It doesn’t matter, I guess, but you…” I pause and look her over again, wondering if I should keep the words in my mouth. Nope, she needs the motivation. “You really need to shower.”
She narrows her pretty blue eyes, rests both hands on either hip, and shakes her head. “Listen, Cai, I know you mean well but you don’t get it. I am a little bit older than you, and I’m just a little more experienced when it comes to—”
I cut her off with a knee-slapping laugh. I can’t help it. It’s like a scene ripped right out of high school.
“What’s so funny?” she asks, crossing her arms again.
I lean on her kitchen counter and try to regain my composure. Once I’m sure I can look her in the face without laughing, I slap on a grin and sigh.
“I ask again, what is so funny?” Now her lips purse and her eyes narrow in on me, ready to eviscerate me if I say the wrong thing. This woman is too cute, even now, and I almost can’t stand it. I want to hug her and remind her of how awesome she is but frankly, she smells like a herd of dead cows. For now. In about ten minutes she’s going to cave and do exactly what I ask her to do because Jackson was right. If anyone can annoy Tallulah Whitmore into doing something she doesn’t want to do, it’s me.
And I’ve got a lot of things I want her to do, starting with gracing me with her glorious smile again.