Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
I guess, maybe, the time has come for me to get checked out.
48
Tad
The sting of antiseptic hits first, sharp and sterile in the back of my throat. Then come the sounds—oxygen hissing, monitors beeping close and far away—and the ache that sits heavy in every inch of my body.
Bright light greets me through my blinks, the simple act of breathing burning like never before. I try to clear my throat, but it’s useless.
“He…hello?” It’s gravelly and hurts like a son of a bitch, so I close my eyes on a groan.
For a moment, there’s only the noise of machines and the weight of pain pressing me down.
Then soft, familiar, and home fills my ears.
“Tad?” Breezy’s sweet, strong, healthy voice urges me to open my eyes again.
“Breeze?” I push myself up the hard mattress, craning my neck until I see her. She’s in a hospital bed parked directly beside mine, and she’s crying. Silent tears of relief and fear and a hundred other emotions stream down her face and make her lips quiver.
Shuffling quickly, I spin to the side and climb from my bed. The IV line tugs hard at my arm, monitors erupt in panicked beeps, and pain tears through my chest with every movement, but I don’t stop as I move toward her bed on quick feet, carelessly dragging cords and an IV pole with me.
“Tad, stop. You’re gonna hurt yourself!” Breezy declares in a panic, but not a thing in this world would stop me right now from pulling the woman I love into my arms and convincing myself she’s safe.
I pull her up and off the bed, into my arms in a tight hug that I know has to hurt. I try to loosen my hold, but the relief is too strong, the emotion too overwhelming. For her part, she’s selflessly silent, squeezing me tightly back.
As gently as I can, I lay her back to rest on her pillow, taking her waist in my hands and putting my face to her hospital-gown-covered belly. I want to look her in the eyes, but I can’t yet. It’s too much.
Breezy rubs her hand firmly across my back, her lips falling to the skin at the back of my neck and staying there. “Shh,” she comforts. “It’s okay. I’m okay. The baby’s okay.”
Back bowed and head low, a sob bucks me as the weight of my life comes raining down on me. My losses, my gains—the sweet confirmation that Breezy and the baby are both, by some miracle, okay.
“We’re all okay,” she whispers, and it simultaneously breaks me and breathes life into my soul.
I swallow hard against the tears lodged in my throat, nodding against her belly and fighting the shake in my hands before reaching out and grabbing hers and squeezing until her knuckles turn white.
My own ID bracelet, strapped on me sometime while I was unconscious, boasts a reminder that I got to Breezy’s room by way of my own hospital bed. Thankfully, our family and friends saw to it that we are together. I don’t know if they truly cared, or if they just knew I’d tear this place to fucking shreds if they didn’t, but either way, waking up to Breezy’s safe, warm, tear-streaked face will forever be ingrained as one of the most satisfying, clarifying, beautiful moments of my life.
I don’t just care about her—I love her. And it’s about damn time I started acting like it by letting her in.
“Breeze. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to…” I shake my head and meet her eyes. “I’m sorry I haven’t shared my life with you. That I haven’t let you in.”
“It’s okay. I know we’re still in the phase of earning trust, and—”
“No, baby.” I cut her off, not to be rude, but to steel my nerves. I have to get it all out—I have to release it before it makes me explode. “No. It’s not you. It’s not us. I… Breeze. I’ve done this before.”
“Done what before?”
My throat is thick, and my heart feels like it’ll explode at any minute as I face my demons head on.
“Loving someone. Building a life.” I pause, letting out a shaky breath. “The fire.”
It takes everything inside me to say it aloud, but I force it out with sheer will. “Breeze. I had a wife, Abigail, and a daughter…Lucy.” I close my eyes as two tears fall along the ridge of my cheek, opening them again after licking the salty liquid from my lips.
“I was a firefighter with Station One of the Elgin Fire Department just outside of Chicago, and one day, a few hours into my shift, I got a call to a house, fully involved with two people trapped inside.” I swallow. Sickness lingers just in the back of my throat, fighting for supremacy with my next words. “My house, Breezy. My people inside.”