11. Nia
11
NIA
“Stupid, stupid girl,” my mother mutters under her breath, her voice a low, relentless drone that cuts through the fog of my consciousness. “If you’d just gone into medical school like your father and I wanted, you wouldn’t have tried to kill yourself today.” The words are harsh, laced with disappointment and fear, and they strike me like a physical blow.
I can feel her hands on me, poking and prodding, checking for injuries as if she’s still in the ER and I’m just another patient. But I’m not just another patient. I’m her daughter, and I know that deep down, beneath the stern exterior, she’s terrified.
I have to be in hell. There is no other reason for my mother to be muttering as quietly as she is, poking and prodding my body when all I want to do is sleep.
“Go away,” I manage to groan, the words catching in my throat and turning into a harsh, gurgling cough that sends sharp spikes of pain shooting through my chest. The sound is pitiful, more of a plea than a command, but I’m too exhausted to care. My throat feels raw, scorched by the smoke I inhaled in the fire, and every attempt to speak only makes it worse. I can’t help but curse my body’s betrayal, wishing I could just tell her to leave me alone and let me sleep.
Even while I’m cursing my mother's voice, I don't open my eyes. While they’re closed, I can pretend that she isn't sitting in the emergency room, no doubt right next to my bed.
But of course, she doesn’t leave me alone. She never does. Instead, she leans closer, her presence suffocating, and pries one of my eyes open with practiced ease. The sudden burst of light from her penlight is blinding, cutting through the darkness I’ve been clinging to. I wince, trying to pull away, but her grip is firm, unyielding. The light pierces straight to my brain, intensifying the pounding headache that’s already making it hard to think.
"What the hell, Mom?" I lean as far away from her as I can, opening both eyes so that I can properly glare at her.
There she is, in the dark-red scrubs that I got her for her birthday last year. The ones that cost more than I used to make in a week, but they are her favorite brand and she says they are the most comfortable thing she's ever put her ass in. And she is staring down at me with tears in her eyes.
"Why are you crying?" I groan again pitifully as I sit up. "Did someone step on your shoes again?"
"No, you insolent child." She smiles and reaches over to brush my hair out of my face. My very dirty hair that is usually the exact same shade as hers. "I'm crying because I walked into my emergency room only to be told that my youngest daughter thought it would be a great idea to run into a burning building when her job is specifically not to put herself in danger like this.”
In that moment, I wish more than anything that I really was unconscious. Then she wouldn’t be able to give me shit about it. Instead, I try to come up with a reason for what I did that will keep her from climbing down my throat and ripping out my heart like I know she wants to.
"I was there." I settle on the truth. "And there was a three-year-old inside the house with her mother who was unconscious."
Mom pats my head gently, the way she used to when I was a little girl, trying to soothe me after a fall or a scrape or even a bad dream. But there’s a gravity to her touch now, a weight of unspoken fear and disappointment.
“I don’t care,” she says, her voice solemn, leaving no room for argument. “You’re not to do that again. You’re not a hero, Virginia. You’re not supposed to put your life in danger to save someone else’s.” Her words are measured, deliberate, each one hitting like a hammer to the chest and nailing home her point. “You went in there without the proper equipment. And you could have died. The world wouldn’t shine nearly as bright if you were taken from it. And I wouldn’t survive losing you, my precious girl.” The finality in her tone is like a slap in the face, and I can’t help but flinch, the reality of what I did sinking in all over again.
I’m not going to be able to get anywhere with her. Not Doctor Liberty Davidson. When she makes up her mind about something, there is no changing it.
Especially when she knows that she’s right.
Like now.
“How’s Gino?” I ask, my voice tinged with worry and fear as I glance over at the curtain that separates my bed from the rest of the ER and the other patients.
The memory of the ceiling coming down, of Gino throwing himself on top of me to shield me from the debris, is still fresh in my mind. The impact, the suffocating weight, the panic that surged through me in those moments all comes rushing back, and I can’t help the knot of dread that tightens in my stomach.
“Is he okay?” I ask again when she doesn’t answer immediately. I need to hear that he’s alright, that he didn’t suffer because of me, because of my decision to go into that house. The guilt gnaws at me, relentless and unforgiving.
"He's doing better than you." Mom’s voice softens just a fraction. There’s a sniffle that follows, and I can tell she’s trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over earlier.
"Don't let her lie to you," Gino calls out loudly. "I expect lots and lots of food from your sister as payback for saving your life, newbie. Nothing else is going to make up for this.”
Mom opens the curtain, revealing Gino sitting up in the bed next to mine, a tired but genuine smile on his face. He’s still wearing half of his bunker gear, the heavy fabric stained with soot and ash, while the rest of it lies in a heap at the foot of his bed.
He looks like he’s been through hell, but the sight of him upright and grinning at me fills me with a sense of relief so profound I almost want to cry.
Instead, I manage a small smile, one that I hope conveys the gratitude and affection I feel for him in that moment.
He really did save my life.
"Thank you," I say quietly. "It means a lot that you did that."
He winks, then coughs loudly, drawing my mother's attention. "Dr. Davidson, I was wondering if I could get something to drink. Something about being in the fire dehydrates me, ya know?" He coughs dramatically again, and I decide right then and there that he is the absolute best.
My mother takes one final look at me, clearly announcing that I’m not done hearing about her displeasure at what I’ve done, and she walks away.
"I mean it." Gino lowers his voice but doesn’t lose the smile. "Lots and lots of food. My momma's Italian, so you know I can eat."
I nod. "Got it. Ella loves me. She'll load you up for a month if I ask her to." She will, too, as soon as she hears that Gino saved my ass.
"Good."
He can't say anything else because in the next instant the ER is a flurry of activity. None of it necessarily bad, per se. But the arrival of a half dozen firefighters in full bunker gear will do that to a room full of nurses and doctors, and even patients who want to see what is going on.
"Gino." Captain Harvey nods at him. "Anything serious?"
"Nope." Gino cracks his neck. "Few bruises, some smoke inhalation. That's the worst of it. Beam knocked us both out." He fingers the knot on his head lightly. "She got the worst of it, though. Hit me, and I hit her, and then she hit the hardwood floor."
I wince, remembering the pain that reverberated through my head and into my neck. Honestly, it is no wonder my mom pointed a light directly into my eyes. I’ll be lucky if I don’t get out of the day without concussion syndrome or precautions. But with the pounding I already feel in my temples, a soft thrum with every pulse of blood through my veins, I’ll definitely need to take precautions.
“You’re lucky you didn’t die.” Captain Harvey turns his attention to me. “There’s a reason that paramedics and EMTs don’t go into a scene without it being cleared first. The firefighters are cross-trained as EMTs, Nia. You’re not. You didn’t have any sort of protective gear when you went into that scene.”
I wince at the raised tone but don’t tear my eyes away from him. Nor do I open my mouth to say a single word.
“Every single chemical in that house was turned into a toxin as soon as the fire started. Things that wouldn’t normally make you sneeze are superheated and fly through the air on the fumes of the flames. There’s a reason we wear protective gear… masks. Yet you went in, blindly, without regard for yourself. Why?”
From the look on his face, he doesn’t expect me to give him an answer, and for a second, I think about keeping my mouth shut like he wants. But in that moment, my inexperience is coming back to bite me in the ass.
“A three-year-old, with no idea what to do in a fire, was in the middle of it,” I answer quietly, my eyes blazing with the emotions I feel pounding in my chest. Fear, pain, and happiness that I was able to pull the little girl into the bathroom before the fire reached the second floor. But not an ounce of regret. “I got her into the bathroom with me, with water in the tub, and a wet washcloth over her mouth.” I cough, unable to help it. “Even if I died, I helped her.”
A red flush creeps up his neck, but it doesn’t reach his face. Instead, Captain Harvey stares at me briefly and finally nods.
“Don’t do it again,” he orders. “Or you’ll be looking for another job.”
“Yes, sir.” I don’t mean for it to come out sarcastic, but the pain in my throat and the smoke I still feel in my lungs make it hard to catch my breath.
With a nod, he looks over his shoulder and sees the men who are watching our conversation without bothering to hide their interest or the fact that they are eavesdropping.
He shakes his head, leans forward, and lowers his voice. “You better text my daughter when you get home. If she finds out from me and not you, she’s gonna flip a lid.” Then he winks and steps back. “Take the rest of shift off. Come back for next rotation.” He glances at Gino. “Both of you.”
“Sir?” I hold out a hand, reaching for his arm. “The little girl and her mom?”
His face is unreadable. “The girl is fine. But her mother was dead before the fire even started, they think. Have to wait for the autopsy report to know more.”
“Damn,” comes from Ryder.
“Get out of the way, losers.”
“Too late,” Captain Harvey mutters loudly before turning and stopping the brunette from getting any closer. “How’d you find out Nia was here, already?”
“Move, old man .” Aylie Harvey, one of my best friends from childhood and Captain Harvey’s daughter, shoves her father aside and stomps up to the side of the bed. “Your mother. I had to find out from your mother that something happened.” She grabs my hand, sniffling. “Are you at least okay?”
“I don’t even have my phone,” I wheeze. “How was I supposed to tell you something happened?” Coughing, I press my free hand to my chest. “Besides, you work in the hospital.”
“Go away, peasant.” Ryder flicks her on the ear. “We’re doing firefighter shit right now. Nia will call you when she gets home. You can bring her ice cream or whatever shit it is that you two are devouring these days.”
I almost laugh at the poisonous glare that Aylie shoots in his direction. But I’m already in pain, and the last thing I need is a room full of people seeing me cry like a baby. Even if that’s all I want to do.
But with the attention off me and on the interaction between Ryder and Aylie who are bickering like siblings, I’m able to lean back and breathe through the sudden nausea.
“It’s a concussion, alright.” Gem appears at my side. “I’d bet a hundred bucks that right now you want to shut the lights off and die.”
“Mm-hmm.” I close my eyes and let all my weight rest on the pillow. “Hurts.”
“Maybe next time you won’t run into a building that’s on fire and leave your partner alone.” I don’t know why I think I’ll escape without hearing his voice. “But then again, no one else seems to think you’ve got a wild side.” His voice drops an octave and gets closer. “I’ve seen your wild side, though, and I gotta tell you that I’m not surprised you did it.”
I feel him brush the hair out of my face, and heat climbs up my cheeks even if my eyes aren’t open.
“You saved my life,” he goes on. “There’s no doubt in my mind that it would have taken that girl out, and me with her. Thank you.”
“Hmm.” I don’t say anything. I want to, but I don’t. There are too many people around for me to say what I really want to. “Come ’ere.”
Opening my eyes with a hand held over them to block out the bright light, I watch his reaction. The others have already started walking away at the insistence of one of the nurses since they were making so much noise. Gem has apparently walked off with them, leaving Gino and me alone, with Josh between the two of us.
“What’s up?” Josh leans forward and practically whispers his question.
Swallowing down the fire in my throat, I lick my lips and open my mouth, struggling to find the words now that I’ve started.
“You’re not a cop,” I finally wheeze.
In the fire, and then in the back of the ambulance when I woke up again, his was the first face I thought of. The regret I had for walking away and not giving him my number. The regret of not seeking him out after our night together.
But I also knew that I couldn’t date a cop. Not after the way I’d handled it with Eddie.
Josh shakes his head, his eyebrows hitting his hairline as he understands the implication of what I’m saying. Offering, really. “Not anymore, no.” He smiles. “And I was never just a cop, Nia. Been a firefighter since I was old enough to join the volunteer department.”
“You owe me dinner.” My voice breaks and garbles the words, but there is no doubt in my mind that Josh hears me. “Chinese.”
Josh nods and brings his hand up, touching my palm with his fingers in a small, intimate moment. “You got it. But if you ghost me again, I’m gonna hunt you down and tie you to my bed until you beg for me to let you… well, I’m sure you can imagine.”