Chapter 2 - Andie
Chapter Two - Andie
Startling awake, I jolt straight up in bed. Finding my heart performing an Olympic-level gymnastics routine in my chest. Sweat drenches my body from the fear of my dream.
Fire. Smoke. Cody.
My eyes dart to the other side of the bed, and there he is—my husband, sleeping like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
Not a single wrinkle of worry on that handsome face.
It isn’t much, but a small sense of relief fills me as I stare at him with the realization it was all a dream.
The same stupid nightmare that’s been gate-crashing my brain for years.
I try to ease back down without waking him, but I’m not even halfway there before his muscular arms loop around me, pulling me against his chest. My personal security blanket activates, giving me the comfort my mind and body need at this moment.
With his steady heartbeat against my back, I try to calm my racing pulse.
The familiarity of his embrace, mixed with his natural instinct to hold me, without knowing the nightmare I just experienced, tells me he still knows me better than I know myself.
Breathe in, breathe out. Just a dream. Just a dream.
I gaze at our bedroom mirror, focused on the reflection of Cody’s messy brown hair and his face half-buried in my shoulder.
This nightmare isn’t exactly breaking news, it’s the same one that plagues my dreams before all his shifts.
The standard my-husband-might-die-at-work package deal comes free with marrying a firefighter.
So why can’t I shake this feeling that today is different?
This time, it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like a preview of coming attractions—the kind nobody asked for.
My eyelids grow heavy, finally surrendering to exhaustion just as our alarm screams to life. Because of course it does.
BUZZZ BUZZZ BUZZZ
“Good morning, gorgeous.” Cody plants a kiss on top of my head, brushing away the strands of hair from my face.
“Good morning.” I look up at him with the doe-eyed expression that usually gets me whatever I want. Now’s the time, Andie. The voice in my head is practically yelling through a megaphone.
“Hey babe? What do you think about calling in today? You know, spend the day together?”
He stares at me like I just suggested we rob a bank.
“What? Is it that crazy to want a day with my husband?”
His expression softens, but I already know what’s coming.
Rejection, party of one, your table is ready.
“You know I can’t do that, honey.”
“But it’s one day. What will it hurt?” I want to plead more but know there is no point.
He’s always been stubborn as hell, and that job is basically his mistress.
A third-generation firefighter with greatness in his blood and all that.
I’ve made peace with being second place—most days, anyway.
I love him wholeheartedly and will support him in every way possible, even if it means putting myself in the backseat of his life’s adventure.
“It’s my job, and the guys count on me to be there.”
There’s dramatics behind the way I sigh, but he’s right. It doesn’t ease the sinking feeling of my intuition screaming to keep him home. It also doesn’t stop me from wanting more morning kisses and less morning alarms.
“Come on, pleeeease. We can spend all day together. Whatever you want.” My plea falls on deaf ears as he starts climbing out of bed. Time for the big guns. “I’ll let you do whatever you want with me.” I raise my eyebrows suggestively. “And I know how creative you can be.” I see him pause.
Gotcha, right where I want you. A little wink, some well-placed hints, sultry promises and maybe he’ll cave.
“Tempting.” He grins sadly, but continues to climb out of bed, rejecting all my advancements. “But not today.”
Damn it.
Defeated, I drag myself out of bed to begin our mind-numbingly predictable routine.
He throws on his uniform, and I slip into my scrubs.
We’re like boring adults with zero surprises.
As he finishes buckling his belt, I decide to shake things up.
Before he realizes what’s happening, I tackle him back onto the bed.
His blue eyes crinkle at the corners as he laughs—that million-dollar smile that made me fall for him in the first place lights up his handsome face.
I straddle his lap leaving a trail of kisses from his neck to his chest. His hands land on my shoulders, gently pushing me away. Not hard, but enough that the message is clear. Which has my insecurities flaring up like a bad rash.
“You make it hard for me to leave sometimes.” He groans.
Not the kind of groan I was hoping for. I want a day of hearing him moan my name.
Instead, we’ll be adulting like responsible people.
What happened to the days when we could play hooky with little repercussions?
Reminiscent of the first few year of marriage when he was “sick” and couldn’t go to work, but really you would find us curled up in bed watching movies and experimenting with new positions. Those days have slowly disappeared.
“Then don’t. Let’s just spend the day together, right here in bed.” My eyes plead with him one last time. I’m aware of how pathetic I sound, but I can’t help it.
“Still tempting,” Cody smirks. “Unfortunately, it’s my day to hold a training for the new recruits.
” Disappointment from his dismissal must be written all over my face because he reaches up to tuck the loose strands of my strawberry blonde hair behind my ear.
“Look, baby, we can’t stay home today. I promise when I come home tomorrow, we’ll spend the whole day together. Deal?”
“Fine.” No point fighting it anymore. Just once, I wish I had come before the job, but today isn’t that day. As we continue our morning routine, I watch him make his breakfast like every other morning.
When did we become so predictable? We used to be fun and spontaneous, but somewhere along the way, we became content with the monotony.
Work, friends, Netflix, repeat. No kids, no exotic vacations—just the same loop of everyday life on constant replay.
We’ve been in this rut ever since he decided to go for Captain—his focus solely on work.
I begin to wonder if he realizes the strain it’s putting on our marriage and my own personal feelings.
Mental note: talk to Cody about injecting some excitement into our lives before we turn into my parents.
I grab my earbuds and crank up my music, letting it wash away my worries.
Dancing around the kitchen while making breakfast is my therapy.
Cody thinks I’m ridiculous and hates my victim headset, always warning me about situational awareness.
Sometimes, I wish we could just live without constantly being on high alert; it’s exhausting.
He laughs quietly at my kitchen dance moves, but I don’t care.
With music, my anxieties disappear, and the world becomes brighter.
Ready to head out the door, I realize I forgot to make my morning coffee. There is no way I can function without my caffeine fix.
“Shit,” I mutter.
A cup of coffee, just how I like it, is placed in my hands. Cody reads my mind, realizing I was about to leave empty-handed again. His eyes look directly at me, telling me a story of how he’s got it covered. He has his flaws, but honestly? I snagged myself a teammate of a husband.
As we head out to our cars, I grab him by his collar for one more goodbye kiss.
“It’s not too late, we can still call in,” I whisper against his ear.
Even though I know it’s a lost cause. He shakes his head no.
Time for the final attempt. I pull him closer, locking my eyes with his as I give him a slow, exotic kiss, my tongue gently parting his lips.
Just as I deepen the kiss, I feel him push me away. Again.
This rejection is getting real old, real fast. When did I get so easy to say no to?
Maybe it’s my fault for pushing so hard. I knew who he was when I married him. Perhaps I thought it would change, but each day it becomes increasingly evident that it won’t.
“Okay . . . now we really have to go,” he says with a smile that doesn’t ease the sting.
I’m hurt but refuse to show it. I hate leaving on bad terms, it makes my anxiety do backflips.
So I plaster on my best smile, let out a small giggle, and give him one last quick peck on the cheek.
Knowing I lost this battle, and if I keep pushing, he’ll just get upset.
“Fine, ruin all my fun, why don’t you,” I say to him jokingly. “I’ll talk to you tonight. Call me when you get free time?”
“I love you,” he says, heading to his car.
“I love you more.”
As my smile fades, I climb into my car and begin the drive to work.
It’s ironic, part of me craves excitement, wishing Cody would stay home so we could do something spontaneous.
But since I have to go to work, that gut-wrenching pit in my stomach persists, having me silently praying today will be like every other day—boring, predictable, and with everyone I love still breathing when it’s over.