Chapter 27 Lindsey
LINDSEY
My stomach flutters when I enter The Southern Bean to find Oliver already in a booth waiting for me with two cups on the table. He gives me a little wave, and I start toward him, shrugging off my coat before sliding in across from him.
“Thank you. For meeting me.”
He nods. “I got you an ‘It’s Always Fall Somewhere.’”
“Thank you,” I say again. An invisible fist tightens around my heart. He remembered my favorite coffee. But I can’t even think about drinking it right now because my heart is too strung out.
I reach across the table and take his hand. Thankfully, he doesn’t pull away.
“Oliver, I’m so sorry I lied to you. It was a stupid thing to do, but I guess I was just too embarrassed to tell you the truth.”
“Embarrassed?” he asks.
I sigh, my gaze dropping to our entwined fingers.
“When I told you I wanted to take you out for your birthday, I meant that. I wanted so badly to make your day special. I’ve been worn out recently, so I left work a little early to take a nap before picking you up.
But I was so exhausted, I forgot to set an alarm, and apparently, I also slept through your texts and calls until that last one woke me up. ”
It’s not the whole truth, but it’s close enough.
A slight smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Wait. All you did was fall asleep? Why didn’t you tell me that instead of making up some story about an emergency? I would have understood.”
“I know it was ridiculous,” I admit. “I should have come clean right away, but I felt terrible because I was the one who asked you to do something big for your birthday, and then I let you down.”
He squeezes my fingers. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t have been upset. In fact, I’d have been happy taking a nap with you for my birthday.”
I chuckle. “A nap isn’t exciting or special.”
“But the girl I’d have been napping with is.”
The last layer of ice around my heart starts to melt.
“Lindsey, the reason I got so upset yesterday is because the only person who ever made a big deal out of my birthday was Jess. I didn’t grow up with the kind of family you did.
There weren’t birthday parties or presents.
I was lucky if my parents remembered to get me a cupcake.
I grew to dread my birthdays because it was just a day that reminded me of what I didn’t have.
” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “Then Jess came along. She never said as much, but I think she was always trying to make up for what my family lacked. After I lost her…I ignored my birthday because there was no one I wanted to share it with.”
I blink back tears.
“Until I met you,” he says, his voice hoarse.
“I’m so sorry I hurt you, Oliver,” I say.
He touches my arm with his other hand. “I forgive you. I just…please be honest with me from now on, okay? Maybe I haven’t been clear enough about my feelings, but I’m crazy about you. I’m in this.”
I swallow hard. “I’m in this too, and I want to make it up to you, if you’ll let me. Any chance you’re free tomorrow night?”
A grin spreads over his face. “I think I can free up my schedule.”
I laugh. “I’ll set my alarm now. And a back up alarm. You know, just in case.”
“Good idea,” he says, taking a sip of his drink. “Anyway, tell me about your day. How was work?”
“It was good,” I say, and I tell him all about every detail.
Well, all but perhaps the most important one—the real reason I slept straight through our date.
“I’m glad to see you’re in better spirits. Must be because you’re seeing Oliver tonight,” Kayla says in my office late the next afternoon. Everyone else has gone home for the day, so the clinic is quiet. “Was that you humming ‘White Christmas’ earlier or a very off-key ghost?”
“Listen, not all of us can be Mariah,” I tease.
“But with the help of tequila, all of us can try.” She sighs and eases into the chair across from me. “Anyway, are you feeling better?”
I rub my palm over my forehead. “A bit. Taking it easy the last couple of nights helped.”
She feigns shock. “It’s almost like I was right.”
“Yeah, yeah. Rub it in.”
She laughs, her eyes falling on the picture of my father and me on the wall. “He was always good at knocking some sense into you and talking you off the ledge.” Her lips tug into a faint smile. “I know it’s not the same, but you know you have me, right? I’m always in your corner.”
I nod. “I know. Thank you.”
“I’m pretty sure Oliver’s in your corner too,” she says. “When you talked to him last night, did you tell him about your fibromyalgia?”
I twist my lips to the corner of my mouth. “Not exactly.”
She drops her head back and huffs out a breath. “Seriously?”
“Kayla, you know what happened with Daniel, and that was after we’d been together a while. I’m just being cautious.”
She leans forward, her elbows poised on her knees. “There’s a fine line between being cautious and straining yourself through a filter, leaving only the bright and happy parts. Why bother if you can’t be yourself with the guy?”
“I can.” I cast my gaze downward. The truth in her words needles at my heart, as though it’s digging for a stubborn splinter. “Well, I want to.”
She peers at me through hooded eyes. “So do it.”
“Fine. I will,” I add. “Tonight.”
“Attagirl.” She pushes herself up from her chair, drifting toward the door. “Okay. Well, I’m going to wrap things up out front. Do you need anything?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m all set.”
She nods once and pivots on her heel, but I call out her name, stopping her midstep.
“Thank you,” I say. “For caring about me. For being such a good friend.”
“Of course.” Her face relaxes into a smile. “Have fun tonight.”
“Good night,” I say, before she pads out of the room.
I finish my paperwork for the day and spend an hour catching up on emails before changing to get ready to pick up Oliver.
After what happened the other night, I was too nervous to go home and run the risk of falling asleep.
Instead, I opted to bring what I needed to get ready in the office bathroom.
Once I’m satisfied with my reflection, I pack up my things and sling my purse over my shoulder.
Just as I’m locking the front door, my phone rings.
I fish it out of my bag and smile when I see Oliver’s name on the screen.
“Hey, you,” I answer. “I was about to head your way.”
“Lindsey, it’s Joe. Beckett gave me his phone to call you.” His urgent tone causes my stomach to knot, and my words lodge themselves in my throat.
“There’s been an incident,” he continues. “There was a five-alarm house fire caused by a gas leak. We had to call everyone in. A couple of the guys were injured, and Beckett’s face shield was compromised.”
The blood in my veins slows to an icy trickle, chilling my bones. “Joe, is he okay?”
I brace myself against the brick, painfully aware of the familiar shock seeping into my limbs like bitter-cold sludge. This wasn’t the first time the voice on the other line didn’t belong to the person I thought was calling me.
It had been a little late, but that hadn’t been unusual. Sometimes Dad would think of something he needed to tell me, usually related to a patient, and he’d call me so he wouldn’t forget.
Hi, Dad. I’d said. Are you feeling better?
Lindsey, it’s Mama. Sweetheart, I need you to come to the hospital. Your father…
In a cruel twist of fate, my mother called from my father’s phone because her battery was dead.
I’m not certain how I got to the Vanderbilt emergency room that night.
I don’t remember some long, agonizing drive.
It was as though I blinked, and when I opened my eyes, I was somewhere else. Somewhere my father didn’t exist.
“He got a lungful of smoke,” Joe says, keeping his voice steady. “The doctors are with him right now.”
I fire questions at him in rapid succession. “Where are you? Is he at Vanderbilt? Can I see him?”
“Yes, he’s at Vanderbilt,” he answers. “And I’m not sure. They’re still working with him.”
I don’t know if I managed a goodbye or a thank-you as I end the call and run to my car. My body is on autopilot as I peel out of the lot and shout at my Bluetooth to call my mom.
She answers on the third ring. “Hey, sweetheart. I was just—”
“Mama.” I choke on the word, tears making my vision turn fuzzy. “I need you.”
I spot Tessa when I sprint through the entrance of the emergency room, and she rushes toward me. My jaw clenches as the smell of bleach and antiseptic hits my nostrils, transporting me back to the last time I blew through these automatic doors.
My mother had floated toward me like a ghost, her skin pale and her eyes blank.
They did everything they could, sweetheart. It was too late.
“Hey,” Tessa says, pulling me into a tight embrace. “It’s okay. Oliver’s gonna be okay. They have him on oxygen right now. The doctor’s keeping him overnight just to be safe, but they said he’ll be discharged in the morning.”
Relief wooshes out of me in a long exhale. “Thank God.”
Over her shoulder, I see the waiting area is filled with firefighters in uniform and their loved ones wearing weary expressions. I imagine this scene isn’t entirely uncommon for them.
“We all came when we found out,” Tessa explains, motioning toward the small crowd holding vigil nearby. “It’s what we do when something like this happens. We’re a family. We take care of each other.”
“Joe said a couple other people were hurt. Are they okay?” I ask. “And the family whose house it was?”
“Everyone’s going to be fine. They were able to get the family out. One of the guys got a concussion, and another has a broken leg,” she says. “It could have been much worse.”
Her eyes darken, and I suspect she’s witnessed a time when the outcome was worse.
“Right.” Knots form in my stomach.
Tessa squeezes my arm. “We got lucky.”
“Lucky,” I echo.
This time. The implication hangs in the air between us, lingering like ashes.
“When can I see him?” I ask.
“Soon. Joe’s back there checking on everyone.” She places her hand on my back. “Come on. Let’s get you some coffee.”
I nod and allow her to steer me toward the refreshment area.
I remember thinking when I was here before how odd it was. That people could casually pour themselves cups of stale coffee, watering it down with powdered creamer, while others’ lives are changing forever.
While some lives are ending.
A television playing a twenty-four-hour news station provides a muffled backdrop to the tired, hushed voices in the lobby.
Tessa places a Styrofoam cup full of grainy black liquid in my hands, and I know I should be thankful that this time, I get to drink the coffee.
It’s not my life changing forever in a room beyond these walls.
Everyone I care about is okay. This time.
But there will be a next time. There’s always a next time. With a firefighter like Oliver, there would be many next times.
And what then?