21. Clover
I hate news anchors.
They all have the same plastic doom-and-gloom expression while they talk about "breaking news" with that weird mix of fake concern and barely contained glee. Like they're devastated about the four-alarm fire consuming an entire city block but also so fucking excited to be the one telling you about it.
"We're continuing our live coverage of the massive blaze that has engulfed several buildings in the industrial district," says the blonde woman on my TV, her helmet of hair not moving an inch as she gestures dramatically behind her. "As you can see, firefighters from multiple stations across Portland have responded to this dangerous situation."
The camera pans to show the inferno that used to be the block where my brother's brewery stands. Where Banks is right now, running toward danger while everyone else runs away. Fire licks up the sides of buildings, belching thick black smoke into the Portland sky. It's like watching the gates of hell open up in the middle of our city.
I chew on my nails and pace in front of the TV while my worst nightmare comes to life behind her.
"According to officials, the fire started in the Mexican restaurant adjacent to the popular local brewery, Timber, but quickly spread to neighboring businesses." The reporter's voice fades into background noise as I pace another circuit around my—our—apartment, my phone clutched in my hand.
It's been two hours since I caught a rideshare home after Banks left me standing in that beautiful house he bought without telling me, with a key pressed into my palm and those three words still hanging in the air between us.
I love you.
Three simple words that have me wanting to throw up for reasons that have nothing to do with pregnancy hormones. And now he's running into a burning building—because that’s just what he does—and I'm left here with those words echoing in my head.
Why didn’t I say them back?
I press redial for the eighth time, my heart sinking when Kasen's phone goes straight to voicemail again.
"It's me. Again. Call me back when you get this, okay? I need to know you're safe." I pause, my voice breaking as I try to contain the tsunami of sobs and snot and tears that are trying to break free. "Please."
I hang up and resume pacing, counting each step to keep from completely losing my mind. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi... Maybe if I count high enough, he'll call back. Maybe if I make it to a thousand, both Kasen and Banks will walk through the door safe.
The news anchor's voice breaks through my counting. "Officials are now confirming that all businesses on the block have been evacuated, but there are concerns that the fire could spread to additional buildings. The danger for first responders remains extremely high."
Extremely high. The words make my stomach twist and my knees go shaky. I press my hand against my belly where our baby is growing. It’s just the tiniest bump, enough that I can't button my jeans anymore and it looks like I had a huge burrito for lunch but not enough to really look pregnant yet. But there’s a little piece of Banks in there and I just want him to be able to watch it grow.
"Your daddy's an idiot," I whisper to my belly. "Running into fires when he should be here with us."
But even as I say it, I know it's not true. It's who Banks is—the man who runs toward danger to help others. The man who can't stand by when someone needs him because his heart’s so big. It's one of the thousands of things I love about him, even if it makes me want to strangle him sometimes.
Like now. Right now I could go for a good strangling.
After I know he’s safe, obviously.
I check my phone again. Like I’d miss it going off with the volume all the way up and the vibration turned on, too. But still.
There’s nothing.
There’s a sharp knock at my door and I nearly jump out of my skin. I trip over my own feet because they won’t move fast enough as I rush to answer it. The amount of hope that swells up inside of me is crazy, just this volcanic eruption of please please please that’s overwhelming that it’s Banks. Or my brother.
Fuck, I could lose them both. The only family I have left gone in a literal puff of smoke.
But when I yank the door open, it's Navy standing there with two hot drinks and a grim expression.
"Thought you might need company," she says, pushing past me into the apartment as all that hope leaks out of me and I do my best to not collapse to the floor in a pile of devastation. "And tea. Because you can’t drink the good stuff and I’m drinking this in solidarity." She holds up her cup with a wrinkle of her nose.
"I've been calling Kasen for hours," I tell her, accepting the tea with shaking hands as I close the door. "He's not answering. What if he was at the brewery? What if he's hurt and no one's telling me? And Banks—" My voice breaks on his name, something that would mortify me if I wasn’t freaking the fuck out.
Navy's arms are around me before I can finish the sentence, pulling me into a hug that smells like her favorite perfume and feels all kinds of wrong and right at the same time. As much as I love my bestie, hers aren’t the arms I want to be in right now.
"Breathe," she orders, her voice gentle but firm. "Both those men are too stubborn to die in something as ordinary as a fire. Trust me."
I want to laugh, but it comes out wet, more like a sob.
"Come on," she says, guiding me to the couch. "Let's watch this disaster porn together, and you can tell me why you didn’t text me back this morning."
My fingers tighten around the cup of tea. "Banks bought a house."
Navy's eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline. "He what now?"
"A house. In Sellwood. This gorgeous Craftsman with a big porch and four bedrooms and a kitchen that looks like it was created straight off my dream Pinterest board." The words tumble out in a rush. "He bought it without telling me, Navy. Just signed the papers and got the keys and then handed them to me like the grand gesture at the end of every romantic story ever."
"Was it?"
"Was it what?"
"Romantic," she clarifies, watching me with those too-perceptive eyes of hers. She knows how much I need to control everything. "Because from where I'm sitting, Mr. Ridiculously Hot Firefighter buying a house for you and your baby falls firmly into the category of 'romantic as fuck.'"
"He didn't just buy a house," I say, setting down my tea because my hands are shaking too much to hold it. "He told me he loves me. That he's been falling for me for years. That it's not about the baby or obligation or anything else. Just... me."
"And this is bad because...?"
"Because what if he's wrong?" The fear that's been choking me since Banks wrapped his hands around my face and told me he wants forever comes spilling out. "What if he thinks he loves me now, but in a year, or five years, or ten, he realizes it was just the excitement of the baby? Or he gets bored with my need to control everything? Or—"
"Or he gets killed in a fire and you never get the chance to tell him you love him too?" Navy cuts me off, her voice sharper than I've ever heard it. "Because that's what you're really afraid of, isn't it? Not that he'll leave. That he'll be taken from you."
Her words are like a knife slicing through me, spilling all my fears straight onto the floor. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
"You love that man," Navy continues, softer now. "I've watched you fall for him over these past months. Hell, I watched you pretend you hated him for years when it was so obvious you were obsessed with him just like he was obsessed with you. But you're so terrified of losing someone else you love that you'd rather push him away first."
"That's not—"
"It is," she insists. "And I get it. After your mom, I understand why you don't trust happiness to stick around. Then your dad couldn’t cope, and he left, too. But Clover, this is Banks we're talking about. The man holds your hair back when you puke. He shows up every single time you need him, and even when you insist you don't. He was willing to give Kasen up for you."
My phone chimes with an incoming text, and I practically dislocate my shoulder lifting it to my face to read it. It's from my brother and I let out a sob.
Kasen: Just heard from the fire captain that Banks is helping with the Timber block fire. He's not answering my calls. Have you heard anything from him?
Relief floods through me so intensely I actually feel lightheaded.
"Kasen's okay," I tell Navy, quickly texting back.
Navy squeezes my hand. "See? One down, one to go."
Me: No, nothing. And where the fuck have you been? I’ve called you like ten times, asshole.
Kasen: Shit, sorry
Kasen: It’s been chaotic down here
Kasen: Talk later, but lmk if you hear from Banks
Me: Fine
Me: Stay safe
Me: If you die, I’ll kill you
Kasen: Love you too
I toss my phone aside and rub my eyes, exhaustion and fear creating a toxic cocktail in my system. The tea's gone cold, but I drink it anyway, needing something to do with my hands.
"He put a lightning bolt mobile over the baby’s crib," I say after a long silence, my voice sounding weird and echoey to own ears. "In the nursery at the new house. Because of the storm."
Navy gives me a soft smile. "The night you finally did something about your mutual pining?"
I nod, my throat suddenly too tight to speak.
"That's some romantic shit right there," she says. "He's good for you, you know. Has been since day one, even when you were too stubborn to see it."
"I see it now," I whisper, and it's the most honest I've been with myself in months, maybe years. "I'm just afraid it's too late."
"It's not," Navy says with a confidence I wish I could bottle and drink. "He'll be back. And when he is, you need to tell him exactly how you feel. No more stupid walls. No more pretending you don't need anyone."
The news anchor's voice rises with renewed urgency, drawing our attention back to the TV. "We're getting reports that part of the structure has collapsed, possibly trapping firefighters inside. Emergency crews are working to—"
I stop breathing. Literally just... stop. Like my lungs have forgotten how to function. The room spins around me as images flash across the screen—a building crumbling in on itself, firefighters running toward the collapse, the chaos of emergency vehicles and flashing lights. A vise clamps around my chest, squeezing tighter with every second that passes without news of Banks. My vision tunnels until all I can see is the fire on the screen, consuming everything in its path, possibly including the man I love.
"He's okay," Navy says, but the confidence in her voice has wavered. "Banks is too smart to get caught in something like that."
But isn't that exactly what he does? Run into burning buildings? Risk his life to save others? Didn't he tell me about the building collapse that left him with nightmares, pinned under rubble for hours?
My stomach lurches, and for a horrifying moment, I think I might throw up right here on my living room rug. I press my hand against my mouth and force the nausea down, my eyes never leaving the TV screen.
"I can't lose him," I whisper, the admission torn from some part of me I've kept locked away but that key Banks handed me earlier apparently unlocked more than the front door of our house. "I can't."
"You won't," Navy says, but we both know she can't promise that. No one can.
The next several hours stretch into eternity. Navy makes more tea. I ignore it. She orders food. I can't eat it. We sit in silence, watching the news as the fire is finally, gradually, brought under control. But there's no word about Banks, no list of injured firefighters, nothing but the terrible waiting.
Until my door opens without a knock.