Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ulysses
“Idon’t care who you say you are, you’re not getting in to see my patient.” The Asian nurse with the piercing dark-brown eyes stared at me with his hands on his hips.
Quinton. The nurse’s name’s Quinton. We’d met at Fifties weeks ago.
“He’s my boyfriend. You saw me with him.” Because desperation was in order. Yes, Finn and I hadn’t defined our relationship in terms of words—but he had, somehow, become my everything.
Quinton’s eyebrow arched.
“Fiancé.” I jutted my chin. “New engagement.”
“Still not a spouse or a family member.”
“But—”
“Quinton?” A soft, female voice came from behind us.
We both turned to find Miriam. She had bags under her red-rimmed eyes. “Quinton, this is Ulysses. He’s really special to Finn. Please let him in. As a favor to me?”
“Oh dear.” Quinton moved to the firefighter. “You look like shit.”
“We almost lost him.”
“He’s going to be okay.”
I hoped the nurse had some insider knowledge I lacked because injured in a fire sounded really fucking bad to me.
“Yeah?” Miriam gazed at Quinton hopefully.
Or at least what I read as hope. I just didn’t know her well enough.
“Yeah. The doctor says once we get his oxygen levels higher, that we can move him out of the ICU. He’s a bit of a mess, but he’s going to recover. Okay?” He patted her arm.
“So can Ulysses see him?”
I had no idea what that request might be costing her. Surely she’d want to see Finn as well.
Quinton eyed me. “His mom’s away on a cruise. Finn’s insisting we not call her.”
Despite myself, I chuckled. “Ms. O’Sullivan is not going to like that.”
“Nope.” The nurse grinned. “Fierce Mama Bear alert. She’s almost as bad as my mom. Nurses, eh?”
I remembered having heard Quinton’s mother used to be a nurse. She’d retired about the time Quinton married the surgeon Leo with his two kids. “I wouldn’t know about nurses. Fortunately, I haven’t spent much time around medical professionals.”
“Oh, you’re a lucky one. Yeah, nurses are fierce protectors of their patients.” He eyed me. “Even if we’re not mamas.”
“No, but you’re a—” I floundered for the word.
“Technically a stepfather.” He cocked his head. “But I only use the step part because the kids have two dads. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no daylight.”
“They’re lucky to have you.” And I wish we could stop this fucking chitchat so I can see Finn.
“All right, let’s get you in to see Finn. I need to check his vitals first, though. Give me a minute?”
“Take as long as you need.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“Within reason? It’s killing me—being out here when he’s in there.” I gestured toward the room.
“All good.” Quinton turned and headed into the room.
“How are you holding up?” I wanted to pat Miriam’s arm. Something. Anything. Some kind of grounding—to assure me she was okay. To affirm Finn was going to survive.
“I’m okay. We did what we had to do. A few minutes more, and—" She shuddered.
“Okay, you can go in.” Quinton made his way over to us. I wanted to demand of Miriam what she meant—but getting to Finn was more important.
“Thank you.”
“Fifteen minutes. Don’t wear him out.”
“Yeah. Okay.” I hustled in—hoping Quinton could take care of Miriam.
The room was dimly lit with the blinds shut tight. Night would fall soon. Darkness to shroud the world.
Finn’s vivid red hair stood out against the stark white of the sheet. As well as his sallow pallor.
I expected an oxygen mask, but he only had a canula to deliver that crucial pure life-sustaining gas.
His eyes fluttered open—the vivid blue almost completely eclipsed by the black pupils. He reached out.
Within a step, I was by his side. I grasped that hand—clinging to it as if it were a lifeline. “I was so worried.”
He swallowed. “I need water.”
“Are you allowed?” Even as I asked, I spotted a jug of water and a cup on the nightstand. Reluctantly, I released his hand so I could pour some water. “There’s a straw.”
“Thanks.” His voice rasped.
I held the straw for him, and he sucked greedily. “Maybe not too much?” I had no idea.
Finally, he pulled back.
I put the glass on the nightstand. Then I pulled a chair over so I could sit. Finally, I did what I really wanted to do—I grasped his hand tightly in mine. “You’re alive.”
“I’m okay. Truly.”
I feathered his hair back. “You look like shit. Although I think Quinton said much the same thing to Miriam, so hopefully some of it’s due to your shift.”
“She’s here?”
“Outside. She told Quinton to let me in.”
“He checked with me.” He swallowed. “I’m grateful he did.”
“You realize your mother’s going to be so pissed when she hears you didn’t call her.”
“She’s near Alaska. She’s been wanting to take this cruise forever. I’m not going to ruin it.”
“You’re her child.”
“She’ll get over it.”
“I don’t know if I would. I’d want to know.”
“Miriam called you?”
“Actually, Toby did. Although I’m certain Miriam told him to. Actually, I have no idea. I just raced here. To get to you. Now, can you talk about what happened?”
Finn gazed toward the closed blinds.
“Do you want me to open them?”
“Nah. My head hurts like a sonofabitch. Light’ll be brutal. Not that it’ll stop Quinton from shining that damn light in my eyes.”
“Because he has to.”
“Because he has to.” Finn confirmed that. “I get it. Really, I do.”
“So relax and talk to me.” I wanted him to get on with it—but that wasn’t my place. I still had no clue what was going on.
His troubled eyes met mine. “Bad fire.”
“Yep.”
“Someone inside.”
“And you went in.” Seemed pretty obvious, but I needed a clear picture.
He nodded. “Broke wood door, went in. Found her. Marlon hauled her onto his back—”
“Really?”
Another nod.
“Oh, okay. I wouldn’t have predicted that, but whatever. Uh, good for him.”
Finn winced.
“Ah. So not good?”
He flicked his hand. “He got her out.”
“But…?”
“A beam fell in my path. I—” He swallowed. “He saw. He waved, and then he left.”
My stomach bottomed out. “Left you there to die?”
“I don’t—” He closed his eyes. “Maybe he was waving that he’d send someone in, right?”
I didn’t—for even a scintilla of a second—believe that. Still, I couldn’t know what had been in Marlon’s mind. In his heart. “But you got out.”
“More debris fell on my head and I think I passed out.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. But Miriam and Toby got me out. Or at least that’s what the paramedic said. Leda. Yappy woman. Insisted on talking the entire time.”
“Because she needed you to stay conscious?”
He wrinkled his nose. “I suppose.”
“And you did?”
“Yeah.”
“Did they scan your head?”
“Yeah.”
I waited for more—but nothing was forthcoming.
“Have you seen the doctor?”
“Concussion.”
“Yikes. I’ve never had one.”
“This is my second.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah…second in nine months.”
That had me sitting up straighter.
Slowly, he nodded. “I don’t know if I was blessed before or am cursed now.”
“I’m always hesitant to use the word cursed. Maybe…unlucky?” I continued to grip his hand. “But there’s more to this story, isn’t there?”
“Yeah. That last concussion? We shouldn’t have been in that mess in the first place. It’s complicated—” He sighed. “Firefighting’s dangerous. I get that…but that shouldn’t have happened, and today shouldn’t have happened either.”
“Marlon?”
“Today? Yeah? Maybe? Giancarlo screwed up in February. But not intentional, right? And a kid died and maybe that’s why he turned to drugs? Maybe?”
“I don’t know. Have you told anyone about this?”
His eyes grew wide. “If I tell Chief, Marlon’s just going to deny it. Say I misunderstood…or made it up or some shit.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
“But if I don’t say something? And it happens again? What if someone gets killed? And I could’ve done something to prevent it?”
I squeezed his hand. “I’ve got you, okay? You’re off work for a few weeks, right?”
“A few days, at least.”
“Well, then don’t worry about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that I’ve got your back. That everything’s going to work out.”
“I don’t understand.”
“And I can’t say any more at this point.” Because I’m not sure what I’ve figured out and I still want you to be vigilant. In fact, maybe I’ll just wrap you in bubble wrap and keep you with me forever. “Look, just rest, okay Finn? You scared the shit out of me.”
“I think I scared the shit out of myself.” He offered a rueful smile. “But I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to. You just have to focus on getting better. On healing up. Then you can think about going back to work.”
“Fuck, Ulysses, I’m not a child. I don’t need to be petted on the head and told not to worry.” He winced. “What if something bad happens when I’m not there?”
“That can’t be your concern. You just need to worry about yourself right now.”
“But I always worry about everyone else.”
Which is something I love about you. I squeezed his hand yet again. “Just don’t go and do something stupid, okay?”
“Does that mean you care?”
I cocked my head. “Of course I care. I always care.”
“No.” He squinted. “I don’t mean like you care because you’re human and I’m human. I mean—” He rubbed his forehead with the hand not gripping mine. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do. I know what you mean and I care a damn lot about you. I don’t want to…but I do.”
He closed his eyes—almost like he was basking in my words. Finally, he opened his eyes. “I care about you, if that helps you. Fuck…I think I love you.” He did a slow blink, then his eyes shut.
I didn’t answer.
When Quinton shooed me out, I went willingly.
And spent a lot of time trying to figure out what to do next.