Chapter 5 - Jimmy
The station is quiet this morning. Just routine equipment checks and paperwork while we wait for the next call. And there are always calls on Thanksgiving.
I'm cleaning the hose fittings, a mindless task that usually helps me think, but today my thoughts keep drifting to Lily Anderson.
I checked with the hospital before my shift started.
They confirmed she'd be discharged by noon.
I told her I'd come pick her up, but now I'm wondering if she'll change her mind about staying at my place.
It was a rash offer, one that surprised me even as the words left my mouth.
I'm not exactly in the habit of inviting strangers to live with me.
"You look like you're trying to polish that fitting into oblivion, Sullivan," Tommy says, dropping into the chair across from me. "What's eating you?"
I set down the brass coupling. "Nothing important."
Tommy raises an eyebrow. "Bullshit. You've been wound tight since we got back from that flower shop fire yesterday."
"Just didn't sit right with me," I mutter, reaching for another fitting. "She lost everything."
"The florist?" Tommy nods, understanding. "Yeah, that was rough. But we've seen worse, and you don't usually take it this hard."
I don't answer, focusing on the brass in my hands. Tommy's right. I've witnessed countless tragedies over the years. What is it about this particular one that's gotten under my skin?
"Heard from Jake that you went to the hospital to check on her," Tommy continues, eyes still on me. "After shift."
"So?" I look up, feeling strangely defensive.
Tommy holds up his hands. "Hey, no judgment. Just never seen you follow up with a victim before."
"She's not a victim," I say, the words coming out sharper than intended. "She's a person who lost everything and has nowhere to go."
Understanding dawns in Tommy's eyes. "Ah. Hits close to home, huh?"
I grunt. Tommy's one of the few who knows about my past. About my father walking out, my mother dying young, my years in the system. He knows I understand what it means to have no safety net.
"I offered her my spare room," I admit finally. "Until she gets back on her feet."
Tommy's eyebrows shoot up. "You did what now?"
"It's temporary," I say, returning to the fittings. "Few days, maybe a week. We’re calling it a Thanksgiving miracle."
"Uh-huh, a miracle…" Tommy's trying not to smile. "And this has nothing to do with the fact that she's hot as hell?"
"Jesus, Tommy. Her life just went up in flames. I'm not—" I stop, realizing I've risen to the bait. "It's not like that."
"If you say so." He stands up, clapping me on the shoulder. "For what it's worth, I think it's a decent thing you're doing. Just be careful. Rescue mode works great for firefighting, but it gets complicated with real life."
Before I can respond, Danny bursts into the room, his young face flushed with excitement.
"Uh, Jimmy? There's someone here to see you. A woman."
Tommy gives me a pointed look. "That was fast."
I ignore him, setting down my work and wiping my hands on a rag. "Did she give a name?"
"Lily Anderson? The florist from yesterday's fire?" Danny shifts from foot to foot. "She's waiting in the front bay."
I nod, trying to ignore Tommy's amused expression and the sudden interest from the other guys who've wandered in from their morning tasks.
"Take your time," Tommy calls after me. "We'll hold down the fort."
I flip him off without looking back, which earns me a chorus of chuckles.
The walk to the front bay feels longer than usual. I told Lily I'd pick her up from the hospital. What's she doing here? And how did she even get to the station? The questions tumble through my mind as I push through the doors to the apparatus bay.
I stop short.
Holy shit.
Lily Anderson is standing beside Engine 1, near the massive red truck, my duffel bag next to her.
She's wearing a yellow dress that clings to every curve of her body.
Curves I definitely didn't notice when I was carrying her smoke-covered form out of a burning building.
The sunlight streaming through the high windows catches her dark hair, which falls loose around her shoulders instead of in that practical ponytail.
My body reacts instantly, a rush of heat flooding south. I shift uncomfortably as my cock stiffens, pressing painfully against my uniform pants. Fuck. I haven't had this kind of instant reaction to a woman since I was a goddamn teenager.
She hasn't noticed me yet. She's looking up at the engine, giving me a moment to collect myself and really look at her.
She's stunning. Not in that artificial, made-up way of the women at the Rusty Nail, but in a way that makes my hands itch to trace those curves, to see if her skin is as soft as it looks.
I need to get a grip. This is a woman who just lost everything, not some fantasy for me to drool over.
"Ms. Anderson?" I call, finally moving toward her.
She turns, and a smile breaks across her face. The bruise on her cheek and the bandages on her hands should detract from her beauty, but somehow they just make her seem more real. More touchable.
But a woman like her would never look twice at a man like me, not romantically anyway. I'm too old, too damaged, too set in my ways. Still, looking is free, and right now I'm getting an eyeful.
"Mr. Sullivan," she says, stepping forward to meet me. "I hope it's okay that I came here. The nurse said you'd be on shift, and I wanted to... well, I didn't want you to go out of your way to pick me up."
"It's Jimmy," I correct her. "And it wouldn't have been out of my way."
"Lily, then," she responds, her smile widening slightly. "And still, I wanted to come thank you properly. Clear-headed this time."
Up close, she's even more beautiful, and I have to force myself to maintain eye contact instead of letting my gaze drop to the way that yellow dress hugs her hips.
"How did you get here?" I ask, realizing she couldn't have walked from the hospital in her condition.
"The nurse was finishing her shift and offered me a ride." She gestures vaguely toward the street. "She also... well, she gave me this dress. Said it was better than hospital scrubs."
That explains the yellow dress. Something about knowing it's borrowed makes the sight of her in it even more affecting. She's literally wearing the kindness of strangers.
"It looks..." I swallow hard. Nice doesn't begin to cover it. "Really good on you."
A slight blush colors her cheeks, and my cock throbs in response. Jesus, I'm acting like I've never seen a beautiful woman before.
"Thank you." She looks down at her bandaged hands. "I've been thinking about your offer."
Here it comes, I think. The polite refusal. And why wouldn't she refuse? What sane woman would accept an offer to stay with a strange man she barely knows?
"If it's still open," she continues, her voice steady despite the uncertainty in her eyes, "I'd like to accept. Just for a few days, until I figure things out."
I blink, surprised. "Of course it's still open."
"I can't pay you," she says quickly. "Not yet, anyway. But I can cook and clean. I won't be a burden."
The image of her cooking in my kitchen, moving around my house in that yellow dress, sends another jolt of heat through me. Fuck, I need to get these thoughts under control.
"That's not necessary." The idea of her feeling obligated makes me uncomfortable. "It's just a spare room that's sitting empty anyway."
Before she can respond, Chef Mike—we call him that sometimes because before becoming a firefighter, he ran a restaurant—walks in from the kitchen area, wiping his hands on a towel. His eyes widen slightly when he sees Lily.
"Everything all right here?" he asks, looking between us.
"This is Lily Anderson," I explain. "From the flower shop fire yesterday."
Recognition dawns on his face. "Ah, yes. How are you doing, Ms. Anderson?"
"As well as can be expected," she answers softly.
I clear my throat. "She's going to be staying at my place for a few days. Until she gets things sorted."
Chief Mike raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment on that. Instead, he says, "You know what, Sullivan? Why don't you take the rest of the day? It’s Thanksgiving, and we're overstaffed anyway with Jake coming in early. It sounds like Ms. Anderson could use some help getting settled."
"You sure, Chief?" I ask, surprised by the offer.
He nods. "We've got it covered here. Go on, take her home. We'll handle any calls that come in."
I glance at Lily, who looks equally surprised. "Thank you," she says to Mike. "That's very kind."
"It's nothing," he waves off her thanks, then gives me a look that says we'll be talking about this later. "Sullivan's got a good track record of saving things. People included."
With that, he heads back to the kitchen, leaving us alone again.
"Looks like I'm free to take you home now," I say, then wince at how that sounds. "I mean, to my house. To get you settled."
She smiles, and I'm struck again by how beautiful she is: how a woman like her is so far out of my league it's not even funny. But for a few days at least, she'll be under my roof, and I'd be lying if I said that didn't send a thrill through me, inappropriate as it might be.
"Let me just grab my things," I add. "And then we can go."
This is going to be a long few days, and my self-control is already being tested. But I meant what I said. This isn't about anything except helping someone who needs it. Someone who reminds me too much of myself at my lowest point.
Still, as I glance back at her standing there in that yellow dress that seems to capture sunlight itself, I can't help but think I might be in way over my head.