25. Adam
CHAPTER 25
ADAM
Probie claims his lasagna is orgasmic. I’m tempted to believe him, considering the savory aroma that fills the station. If this meal tastes half as good as it smells, I might stop giving Probie such a hard time about the way he folds laundry.
It’s been a slow shift. We’re sitting at the table in the mess room, playing cards and talking about Halloween costume ideas, when my mom calls. My family knows not to call me when I’m on shift unless it’s an emergency, so I fold my cards and answer as I wander down the hallway toward the quiet of the bunk rooms.
“I know you’re working. I won’t keep you.” Mom starts, then launches into a breathless monologue. “But I thought you’d like to know that Markus came by and picked up Rufus a little while ago. He looked tired. I asked about his father. He said that he passed away around one o’clock this morning. Didn’t want to ask why he’s back here so soon after the passing, but I could tell he’s feeling sad and maybe a bit confused and exhausted. Also, he’s not wearing a bandage over his stitches anymore. The injury looks good, no swelling or redness. I offered to feed him dinner, but he was in a rush to get his dog and leave. He’s probably an introvert, and socializing is exhausting for him, so he needs a bit of a rest.”
“Jesus, Mom, are you going to write his unauthorized biography next?”
“I just thought you’d want to know that he’s back in town.”
“Yes, thank you for the update,” I say, and I mean it.
But I’m not sure what to do with the information. Last night, Markus called me and told me he liked me; then he hung up. It felt a bit odd at the time, but now, given the timeline my mom just relayed, I’m pretty sure that’s when his father died. Jesus, how screwed up is that?
While he was suffering through a night of trauma and loss, I was obsessed with ideas of him and the future: a future with him, a future with him in my bed . That last notion really blows my mind. I’ve never been with a partner more than once. Not that I’ve made it a hard-and-fast rule to never explore a second date with my one-night stands. I just haven’t. But with Markus, I want to explore everything.
I like him—a lot. I like his friendship and the sound of his laughter; the way he says “good boy” to Rufus and how I want him to say it to me; the way he tastes when he’s wet from the rain; and the way he moans and tangles his fingers in my hair when I take his cock to the back of my throat. Whoops, there I go again, so consumed by thoughts of Markus that I haven’t listened to a word my mom has said.
But I perk up when there’s a commotion on Mom’s end of the phone call. Through the static of the line, Alice—who’s over at Mom’s so much since the baby came, you’d think she moved back in —shouts at my Mom, “Someone stuffed six hundred dollars cash into the kennel donation box out by the road!”
“What?” My mom’s reaction is so loud I hold the phone away from my ear, carefully pulling it back when she asks my sister, “Did they leave a note? Any explanation?”
“No. Nothing.”
I don’t need a note to know exactly who left that donation and exactly why they left it. I challenged Markus to donate the money he tried to pay me for taking him up to Mineral Wells, and he did.
Gah! As if I needed another reason to like this guy. He’s a fantasy come true, Prince Charming from a fairytale. Does that make me Snow White, the lover he brought back to life with a kiss?
Overhead, the station’s emergency alert system chimes, and a robotic voice reads the call details: “Attention Engine Thirty-one, Attention Medic Five, Attention Medic Three, respond to 202 North Main Street. Caller indicates robbery in progress, life-threatening injuries reported. Responders use caution . ”
Ice crackles through my veins, and I go completely numb. That’s Markus’s clinic. Someone has robbed it, and there are life-threatening injuries. Is it Markus? Is he hurt? Fear twists my stomach in knots, and the helplessness of separation forms a gnawing ache in the center of my chest.
I need to be there. Now .
Mom heard the emergency call through the phone, and she’s barking orders to my sisters and brother-in-law as I hang up and run for the truck bay. The big door trundles open as I climb up into the driver’s seat, impatient for the rest of the crew to join me. Probie is the last one out the door, having to make sure the lasagna doesn’t burn in the oven while we’re out.
As soon as he’s in the truck and everyone’s doors are closed, I hit the gas, Dee hits the siren, and we take off, racing downtown. The station is not far from Main Street, but the drive over feels like miles and miles. With each strobe of the red and white emergency lights, my mind flashes through nightmare scenarios of Markus lying on the floor of his clinic, injured or worse.
We arrive at the same time as Medic 5, and I pull to a stop behind my sister’s sheriff’s vehicle. Terrific, as if I don’t have enough to worry about, now I know Ava is in there, too, probably with her gun drawn.
Seeming to read my mind, Drew offers from the back, “I’ll chock the wheels. Go!”
With a quick glance over my shoulder, I silently thank him, then look to Dee. As the officer in charge of the scene, it’s her call. She nods, giving me clearance to run inside. So I do, springing myself loose of the truck and sprinting for the building.
Shattered glass from the broken front door covers the clinic floor, and I squeeze through the hole to move inside, glass crunching under my boots as I step into the dark space. I find absolute chaos. One of the front desk computers lies sideways on the floor, the monitor shattered. Beside it a phone is tangled in its cord, a busy signal sounding from the receiver. And all around are bloody footprints.
My panic ratchets up as I follow the blood trail to the back of the building, where I hear voices. One of the voices belongs to my sister as she instructs, “Lie still so you don’t bleed out.”
I practically dive for the door, then come up short when I step inside and see all the blood. Arterial blood dots one wall, and a large pool of red ringed by a frenzy of bloody footsteps mars the floor in a gory mess. It smells gory, too, the strong copper stench of blood blending with the acrid smell of floor cleaner.
Lying supine in the center of it all is a man I do not recognize. My sister is on her knees beside him, checking his pupils and pulse as he hollers and writhes in pain. From behind me, Probie and one of the medics run to his aid.
I’m stunned, just staring at it all, trying to understand what I’m seeing. A dog snorts and grumbles behind me, and I turn to find Markus sitting on one of the supply shelves. Rufus stands at attention, cautiously watching everyone from beside his person.
Without thinking, I go to them. Only two strides separate us as I look them up and down. They paint a strange image, a tableau of horror and love. Markus has his hand on Rufus’s head, sweetly petting his dog, who has blood dripping from his jowls. There’s blood on Markus, too, covering his pajama pants and splattering across his white undershirt, but none of it appears to be from any wound on him. Still, I check, running my hands over his arms, his torso, his face.
Markus reaches for me, too, his palm shaking as he cups my cheek. I turn my gaze to his, and everything stops. Every single thing just stops as I stare into his big blue eyes.
He’s okay. Thank God he’s okay.
All the panic, all that maddening fear flushes out of me, and in my relief to see him alive and uninjured, I kiss him. But this is more than a kiss, so much more . When my lips meet Markus’s, it’s a statement, a promise. There is already something more between us—I know we both feel it—and this kiss is my first step toward exploring that.
When he angles his mouth against mine and parts his lips, I feel the promise in his kiss too. I groan and wrap an arm around his waist, taking more from the kiss, more from him, taking anything and everything he’ll give me in this moment. I revel in the taste of him, sweet and clean, like candy and mouthwash.
He hasn’t shaved today, and his stubble against my cheeks feels divine, tiny pricks of such sweet pain that bring my focus to his mouth’s softness. And his hand, still touching my cheek, curls around the back of my neck to hold me close, to take from me just as I take from him. Sharing our strength, until we are so much stronger together.
When we slowly pull apart, I rest my forehead against his, and in a whisper, only meant for his ears, I say, “I was so worried.”
Markus’s eyes open to look deep into mine. “I’m fine, never better. Rufus saved me.”
“Good boy,” I say with a head scratch and a big smile at the dog, who sort of smiles back.
It’s only then that I remember I’m on the job in a blood-soaked room full of people—including my sister and my entire crew.
I look over at the bleeding man on the floor, where Drew and one of the paramedics are securing him for transport to the emergency room. Dee is on her radio informing the hospital of their incoming patient while Probie is helping the other paramedic maneuver a stretcher through the door.
No one says a thing about my very unprofessional dalliance in the corner of a crime scene with the crime victim, but I’m not so na?ve to think they didn’t notice. Stepping back a bit, I take a longer look at Markus and ask, “Are you injured?”
“Just my feet.”
With a quick glance down, I realize his feet are bare. I carefully lift one foot and then the other to inspect them, finding shards of glass in both. And, shit , in my haste to get in here and find Markus, I left my medic bag in the rig. Like she can read my mind, Dee sets it beside me. I give her a grateful smile and nod, then get to work removing the glass and cleaning and bandaging his wounds.
Once he’s taken care of, I turn my attention to Rufus, squatting in front of him to get a good look. I check his paws for glass, but he’s fine, so I use some dog-safe wipes I found on the shelf to clean the man’s blood off his snout, while Markus uses the wipes to clean his own hands.
As I do, my sister—Deputy Newman when she’s in uniform—comes over to us, and I wonder aloud, “Am I tampering with evidence?”
“No, you’re fine. I’ve taken some photos of the scene, so you can clean up.” Now she turns to Markus. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“He came looking for drugs. Ketamine, I assume. Kept saying, ‘You’re not supposed to be here.’ I guess word got out that the vet clinic was sitting empty with drugs inside.”
“Jesus,” I mutter.
Ava nods, then smirks at Rufus and scratches his head. “I s’pose now word will spread about this good boy here. No one’s likely to bother you again with him on guard duty. For tonight, we’ll board up the door so no one else gets any bright ideas.”
I spot a pair of Crocs in a corner of the room and bring them to Markus, who gratefully slides them on so we can walk out over the glass. As for Rufus, I check that the dog is not harboring any residual aggression before I pick him up, all ninety pounds of him, and carry him over the glass and out of the clinic toward the waiting vehicles.
While we were inside rendering aide, apparently my mom has been organizing help too.
Gary and Clint, my brothers-in-law, stand by with cordless drills and a couple sheets of fresh plywood, waiting for us to clear the scene so they can board up the clinic overnight. And my sister Anna is sweeping glass off the pavement.
Once we’ve safely passed all the damage to the door, I set Rufus down, and he immediately goes to Markus’s side, leaning into his legs as if to help prop his person up. Markus does look a bit unsteady, and his hands tremble, so I make him sit on the bumper of Gary’s truck.
Initially, I fear he’s showing signs of shock as he stares wide-eyed at everyone around him. But when he says, “They’re all here to help?” I realize his “shock” is actually surprise at seeing this community stand up for him.
My chest fills with love and gratitude for my family. I could absolutely kiss every single one of them for showing up here to make Markus feel welcome, even as he reels from the stress and horror of this night…hell, this whole week!
Markus needs a place to feel safe, a place to call home. And my family has come here to give that to him.
Reading Markus’s staring gaze as shock, too, a paramedic I don’t really know comes to check his pupil response and look over the bandaging I put on his feet. Then he suggests to Markus, “I’d like to take you to the hospital to make sure you’re okay.”
Markus snaps out of his awestruck peace and shakes his head emphatically. The sudden movement looks like it might tip him over. A few of us reach out, as if we’re going to hold him upright, and he tries to convince the paramedic. “I’m okay. I…I think I’m just hungry.”
Hungry? After all this ?
He adds, “I can’t remember eating today.”
Shit. We need to get this man a meal, STAT!
The paramedic frowns, like he wants to argue. Out of the corner of my eye, my mom looks like she’s about to speak up, probably with an offer to cook Markus a meal. But Probie surprises us all when he says, “I made lasagna. Back at the station. There’s plenty, enough for you to join us, Markus. We can make sure you’re okay.”
Everyone stares at Probie like he’s sprouted a second head, and he hesitates, “Oh. Shit. Is that against policy or?—”
“No, it’s fine,” Dee says, and warmth washes through me in waves. My team, my family—they’re coming through for me, for Markus when he needs it, and I could cry with how good that feels.
Until tonight, I never even kissed a man in this town. Afraid, for some unfounded reason, that it would push the town’s tolerance of who I am too far. Instead, not only are they accepting me and the kiss I planted on a man at a crime scene, but also they’re accepting that man too.
It’s like an earthquake, something that shifts oceans and continents inside me, opens up cracks and fissures of happiness, freedom, joy. I didn’t know how this town truly felt about me until right now, and their acceptance is so much more than I could have hoped for. It’s everything.