Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
POPPY
This morning, hearing the doctor say, “I’m discharging you today,” felt like being handed the golden ticket.
It’s been four days since my accident, and Landon hasn’t left my side except to get food—well, decent food and not the trash the hospital is serving me—or to shower, which he has been doing at a gym down the road.
He pays for a class that he never attends, then just walks straight into the showers, freshens up, and leaves again.
I tried to tell him to go to my place, but he refused because it was too far away and he would be gone too long. It’s not like I’m going to take off while he’s gone, but he was insistent that he didn’t want to be away from me for more than twenty minutes at the most.
The nurses set up a folding cot in my room for him to sleep on, but he has done nothing but complain about it. He figures the floor would be more comfortable than the hard lumpy thing they call a bed.
I’m trying not to laugh too much at him, because the more tired he gets, the grumpier he becomes.
Luckily the video chats with the boys get him laughing again, and there have been plenty of those calls.
My mom has been helping with the boys, which we’re grateful for, because that way, it frees up Adrian to run the bar.
Felix offered to move in with them to help during the day, but Landon told him my mom needs to do this.
We’re hoping it will help her keep busy so she worries less.
If she can’t be here fussing over me, then she can be the mother hen with Nash and Kade instead.
Landon misses them terribly, and I feel guilty that I’ve taken him away from his sons for such a long time. When I suggested maybe he should head home and I’d give in to letting my mother come to Rochester, he straight-up refused. That was the end of that conversation.
“Are you sure you want to use the crutches? I think the wheelchair is a better idea,” Landon grumbles while he hovers beside me, his arms outstretched, ready to catch me if I fall.
“Damn, have some faith. I’m not useless.
I need to get used to using them, because I’ll be stuck with them for a while.
Get the bags and let’s go. I don’t want to wait a minute longer.
I’ve been set free, so move before they change their mind.
” I start toward the door, albeit slowly, because I don’t want to fall. Not that I’d tell Landon that.
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” He picks up the two gym bags. Mine, that Rosco brought over from my locker at work, and Landon’s, which he bought to hold his dirty clothes in, on one of his quick trips to the store.
It took a lot of planning and advice from the doctors, but everyone has agreed that it’s better if I head home to Boston to do my rehabilitation.
Mom will take care of me, and Landon insisted that I would be safer there than on my own.
At one point we had a heated discussion about him trying to overrule me all the time and making decisions for me.
Neither of us backed down, so we just stopped talking.
He then sat and sulked in the chair in the corner of the room scrolling on his phone, while I pretended to be asleep just to give myself some space.
But if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t want him to leave me on my own. And we both know there’s no way he can stay here any longer. He needs to get home to the boys and his business.
It’s like there’s this dark cloud still hanging over us, that we can both see but can’t exactly pinpoint what it means.
We haven’t talked about it, but I’ve woken up several times over the last two nights from nightmares.
They start where I’m in a fire. There is something or someone in the smoke, and I can’t see what’s happening, and then one finished with me feeling like I was burning alive.
And when I wake, I just can’t shake them.
He just hops up from his bed, walks over, finds his spot on my bed, and pulls me into his chest. Rubbing my back so tenderly, occasionally kissing the top of my head and running his hand over my hair which he knows relaxes me.
One of the conditions for the fire department to continue paying my medical expenses in Boston was that I signed a declaration stating that I would start counseling as soon as I got home to Mom’s house.
The funny thing is that Landon had already insisted the same thing in one of our heated discussions.
He told me he would be making me an appointment with the therapist he used after his wife died.
I’m not sure that’s the right person for me, but we’ll see.
We’re about to get into a taxi to head to my house, where we’ll pack a couple of suitcases of things I need, and then head to the airport for our afternoon flight.
I’ve been cleared to fly the short distance to Boston, but they had to cut my cast up the front with a gap so it will give my leg room to swell when we’re at altitude.
They have a bandage wrapped around it to keep it clean, and then I’m booked in to see a doctor in Boston to replace it with a lightweight fiberglass cast tomorrow, which will make it easier for me to move around.
I let the boys pick the color when we spoke to them last night, and of course, they picked red.
I still have a dull headache left from the concussion which they told me will last a while. They can’t give me a timeframe on that, but thankfully, the dizziness has eased, and my cough is almost gone.
Rosco stopped in briefly last night to see me before I left, passing on the well-wishes from everyone at the station.
He did let it drop that the crew were pissed off that they weren’t allowed to visit.
The way he was talking a bit bluntly, I don’t think he’s happy about me going home either, but it’s not his choice.
It was a strange visit. The whole time he was in the room in his regular station uniform, I felt anxious.
I can’t work out what it is, but the moment there’s some connection to the firehouse crew or my accident, it’s like an elephant sits on my chest. I can understand about the fire, but feeling unstable when talking about my crew or firehouse doesn’t make any sense at all.
Hopefully whichever therapist I start seeing will help me unpack that feeling. Because I love my job, and I don’t want to be carrying negative emotions every time I go to work.
The moment the front doors of the hospital slide open, there is a loud cheer, and parked in front of me are both firetrucks from the station.
The whole crew is wearing their turn-out gear, which would be in case they get a call while out of the station.
They’re lined up next to the trucks cheering and clapping.
And I don’t even need to second-guess what the noise I’m hearing from Landon is.
He instantly steps beside me the moment he sees them all.
His hand lands on my lower back, and he pulls me as close as he can.
Which is not as close as he would like, I’m sure, with the pesky crutch in the way.
The way he lets out a deep, pissed-off growl is how I know he certainly didn’t organize this surprise send-off.
My guess is that one of the EMTs probably asked a nurse they know to message them when I was getting ready to leave.
Although, to be honest, I should’ve expected it.
That’s the kind of thing we do as a crew.
We look after our own. But suddenly, I don’t feel that strong bond toward them like I should.
“I fucking told him no,” he grumbles.
“What are you talking about?” I mutter under my breath to him while I’m holding a fake smile on my face.
“Let’s go. Say hello, thanks for coming, then straight to the taxi.
No chatting.” I hear his words, but they’re spinning in my head, making no sense to me, because everything feels all foggy again.
My breathing is starting to become more rapid and shallow.
All I can hear is my blood pumping in my ears like crazy from my erratic heartbeat.
“Landon… I don’t feel well,” I whisper as my vision starts to blur.
“Fuck, I knew we should’ve gotten a damn wheelchair.” I feel him pull the crutch out from under my arm so he can pull me tight against him and take my weight. I hear the thud of the bags and crutch hitting the ground.
“Rosco,” Landon barks. “Help me get this shit to the taxi. Now!”
The clapping and cheering stop instantly. I fight so hard to slow down my breathing and stay conscious, because I desperately want to get out of here. I don’t want a nurse or doctor seeing me and taking me back inside. I just want to go home, not here, but to Boston. To my childhood safe place.
Then I feel my feet being lifted off the ground, and Landon has me in his arms, carrying me toward the taxi van that’s waiting. We ordered a large one to give me more room with my leg.
“You’re okay,” Landon keeps repeating quietly to me, but it’s not in his normal calm tone, so it’s not helping.
There’s an underlying sense of anger in his blunt voice, which worries me even more.
Although it’s a little blurry, I can see the crew scattering and all heading toward us to try to help.
I want to scream at them to stay away, but I don’t.
Because I can’t even understand why I don’t want them near me, and I don’t want to have to try to explain my reaction to the people who are my work family.
The taxi driver must have opened the door for Landon because he slides me onto the seat. “Use your arms and push yourself back further into the taxi. Stay sideways on the seat so your leg is up,” Landon says in a low voice, and like a robot, I just do whatever he says.
There’s a loud chorus of my name being called from outside the taxi now. But as they get closer to us, the voice that stands out the most to me is Dean’s.