Moving Forward, page 21
“What do we do now?” asked Mick.
“Clean more fire trucks,” Greg replied.
He frowned. “Don’t they have to clean their own truck?”
“It doesn’t work that way. Everyone helps where they can. That’s how this place keeps running.”
Anderson shot Greg a look. It was obvious that he’d overheard. “Sergeant Velasquez would be real proud of you, Tebo,” he said, referring to an officer they knew during their first deployment. The guy was several inches under six feet, but he was a mountain of a man to everyone in their unit.
Greg greatly admired Velasquez. He never handed off anything that he could do himself, and he was extremely fond of giving everyone—officer or not—a piece of his mind if he thought they were slacking.
Greg hadn’t realized it, but he’d just been that guy to Mick.
When all the trucks were in good shape and ready for the next emergency, he took a shower. The cool water felt good on his skin, but it didn’t wash away the nagging sense of something bad on the horizon.
Still feeling strange, he told Mark he was going to get some shut-eye.
He’d barely lain down when the nightmare came. He was back in Iraq, in a village square playing hacky sack with some kids. Next thing he knew, a vehicle rolled up and exploded a few yards away.
“With me!” he screamed as he leapt on top of the boys and rolled them under another vehicle.
In his waking hours he’d replayed the next minutes in his head over and over. The boys’ screams of terror. The heat pouring up from the ground. The sense of bewilderment and panic that he couldn’t seem to brush off as another IED exploded.
By the grace of God, the only injuries the boys had sustained were a couple of bruises from his tackle. All he’d gotten was a good little gash from a piece of metal on the back of his calf.
But in this dream, everything went wrong. The bomb was closer, the boys died, and he’d been helpless.
“Greg. Greg!”
He sat up with a cry to find himself facing Sam and Mark. He was sweating and breathing heavily, as though he’d just run uphill.
Though a part of his mind knew where he was, he couldn’t keep himself from grabbing at Mark’s shirt. “The boys. The kids. Are they okay?”
Samantha frowned but Mark leaned forward and grabbed his forearms. “They’re okay, T.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” Mark replied in his usual calm, steady voice. “We’re not in the sandbox, buddy. We’re in Colorado. We’re in Colorado, and the boys are okay.” Continuing to stare at him intently, he whispered, “They were okay. Remember?”
“Yeah.” He let go of Mark. Little by little, everything came back into focus. He was at the station, not in Iraq. He was sleeping in one of the compartments, not in a tent. He was okay.
And he’d yelled loud enough to bring Sam and Mark over.
Shame filled him. “Sorry about that.”
Samantha tapped his foot. “No problem. I’m just glad you’re all right.” She exited.
Mark stayed in place, a look of concern still staining his features. “Greg, how many of these are you having?”
He didn’t even pretend not to know what Mark was talking about. “A couple.”
“How often? Once a week? More than that?”
“Once a week.” He looked away. “Thereabouts.”
“You need to talk to someone.”
“There’s nothing to say. It’s not like I can take sleeping pills or anything. I can’t afford to be groggy on the job.”
“You’re right. But you can talk about it to a therapist.”
“Come on, Mark. You know I don’t want to do that.”
Mark’s gaze didn’t waver. “Maybe you won’t have a choice. A therapist will help you talk everything out.”
“I can handle it.”
Mark pursed his lips, then spoke again. “Buddy, think about Kristen. What if something happens between you two and you get serious? What are you going to do when you’re sleeping next to her every night?” He lowered his voice. “Are you going to warn her that if you start freaking out and screaming to be sure she doesn’t touch you, in case you think you’re back in the desert and fighting off insurgents?”
Greg opened his mouth to retort, but closed it again, fast. The guy had a point. He’d barely slept at the resort with Kristen. She’d been worried about needing oxygen and thought he was being so understanding about it.
In truth, he’d been more worried about his own issues. He just wasn’t brave enough to tell her about them.
Mark was right. There was a good chance he’d eventually have one of these dreams around Kristen—or whomever he ended up marrying. What would he tell her about them?
Was he just planning on sleeping separately forever if they went down the path he thought was in their future? Did he really want his wife to be afraid of him acting out in his nightmares? No way.
“Fine. I’ll see someone.”
Mark didn’t move. “Promise? Because I’m going to be asking you about it.”
“I promise.” He had more at stake than his pride now.
Or maybe he always did but he was finally realizing it.
After Mark left, he lay back down, trying to get his bearings, when Kristen called.
Realizing that he needed to hear her voice, he picked up immediately.
“Hey, I was just—”
“Greg, I’m sorry, this is Kaylee. I’m a friend of Kristen’s.”
“Yeah. We’ve met.”
“Right. Well, listen, I just wanted to let you know that Kristen’s in the hospital.”
He was on his feet. “Which one?”
“Pikes Peak.”
“What happened? Is she admitted?”
“Yes. She’s been here for about six hours now.”
“Why didn’t anyone call me earlier?” he blurted.
“We all heard about the big fire. Kristen didn’t want me to call you, but I started thinking that you’d probably want to know. She was just taken for some tests, so I kidnapped her phone and decided to reach out.”
“You’re right. I absolutely want to know.”
Kaylee exhaled. “Whew. I was hoping I did the right thing.”
He glanced at the time. “I’m on shift but I get off in six hours. Will she still be there?”
“I’m afraid so. Her blood pressure and her lungs are both acting wonky. Kristen’s putting up a brave front, but I’m worried, Greg.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
After pulling on his shoes, he stripped the bed and took the time to make it again. With the way things were going, someone else was going to need to rest sooner rather than later.
His momma’s favorite cliché had never felt more appropriate. When it rained, it really did pour.
Chapter 28
Kristen was tethered to a hospital bed yet again. She had monitors stuck to her chest and an IV in her hand. Until a couple of hours ago, she’d even had an oxygen tube—which she unfortunately knew was called a nasal cannula—in her nostril.
Machines beeped constantly, while the nurses kept taking her blood pressure and poking her with needles—and naturally she was back in a hospital gown, too.
Nothing was unfamiliar but every part of it was unwanted.
And so, even though her brain was telling her to get a grip and be thankful for such good care, she was crying.
Oh, she wasn’t bawling or creating a commotion. It was more like there was a constant, continuous stream of unhappiness that didn’t seem to have an end in sight. Not to mention frustration with her surroundings, her testy, overworked nurse, and her parents, who couldn’t stop calling, texting, and emailing.
She’d given up wiping her face with tissues, and now used them only whenever she had to blow her nose. Instead, she’d taken to swiping her eyes and cheeks with her hand, the neck of her hospital gown, or even the scratchy sheet.
Because of this, her face was blotchy, her eyes were red, and she looked even worse than she usually did in her hospital gown.
So when Greg poked his head in after knocking twice, she felt like nothing so much as throwing up.
“Hey, sweetheart, you decent?”
Greg was wearing faded jeans, a black T-shirt, and a tender smile. In short, he was gorgeous, perfect, and whole—while she was unkempt, teary-eyed, and broken. In short, she was not decent at all.
She hiccupped. “What are you doing here?”
“Well now, I think it’s pretty obvious,” he drawled as he stepped inside the room. Closing the door behind him, he added, “I came here to check on you.”
She hiccupped again as more tears fell. Because that was the kind of woman she was now: a helpless, crying, ugly one.
Greg’s expression had turned decidedly wary, and he stayed where he was. “Kristen, may I come on over to your side?”
His voice was now less West Virginia twang and more concerned army guy doing threat assessment.
And that’s when she realized that he wasn’t going to take a single step closer until she gave him permission. He’d closed the door so passersby couldn’t see her but was still giving her space.
No, he was doing more than that. He was allowing her to make a decision.
That was usually the last thing she got when she was hospitalized. All her desires were overruled by people who were sure they knew better. And, since she was usually attached to more tubes and needles than she could easily remove, she was forced to do what they wanted.
Given that every orderly, intern, nurse, doctor, or janitor felt free to walk right in, wake her up, touch her and prod her and write private notes about her in their precious charts . . . his sensitivity made the tears fall even harder.
Her hiccups turned into a coughing fit that hurt like hell.
Observing her tears, Greg strode to her side. Next thing she knew, he was rubbing her back and scanning the machines she was hooked up to.
“All right, honey. Let’s take this nice and slow, yeah? Breathe in.” When she did as he asked, he bent down slightly to look in her eyes. “There you go. That’s better. Do it again.”
Kristen inhaled as much as she dared. Taking a breath that was too deep led either to a coughing fit or a stitch of pain deep in her lungs. She closed her eyes and exhaled, concentrating on the way his hand was rubbing her back. What was it about his hand that soothed her in a way nothing else could? Was it because his touch was warmer? More confident? Like his firefighter training had given him a secret skill she hadn’t even been aware was necessary?
Was it simply because he was Greg?
“One more time,” he ordered.
She blinked and did as he asked. And realized that for the first time in about an hour her eyes weren’t leaking.
“They stopped,” she murmured to herself.
But of course, he heard her, too. He dropped his hand as he dropped to the chair next to the bed. “What stopped?”
“My tears.” Ouch! Why did she have to bring up the fact that she’d been crying?
But since her pride had already gone out the window, she added, “I think something’s wrong with my eyes. They keep watering. I can’t seem to get them to stop.”
His eyebrows rose. “Last I checked, people cry when they’re in pain or sad.”
Greg leaned back and propped a foot on the opposite knee. Just like they were sitting on the patio at Granger’s having a Coke. “There’s happy tears, too, but I’ve always been of the opinion that those don’t come around as often as one might think. What do you think?”
She blinked. “About happy tears?”
“Yeah.”
“Um . . . well, I suppose I haven’t cried all that often because I was happy. It’s been more of a sad kind of thing.”
He smiled. “That’s been the case with me, too.” Looking more concerned, he added, “I’m sorry you’re feeling so bad and sad, honey.”
“Me, too.” She licked her bottom lip, which felt far too dry. “Thanks for coming over. You didn’t have to, though. I heard about the big fire. Were you there?”
“I was, but it’s out now.”
She looked him over. His eyes looked tired, but she didn’t notice any new cuts or bruises. Or a burn. “Greg, are you okay? Did you get hurt?”
“No.”
“What about everyone else?”
“Don’t worry.” When she obviously wanted more of a report, he added, “I heard a guy from Cripple Creek got a little singed, but everyone else is good.”
“I’m glad.”
“Me, too, though if one of us has to be stuck in here, I’d rather it be me. You’ve been in more than your share of hospital beds.”
“I’d rather you be okay.”
“Mmm.” Shifting, he ran a finger down her arm. “Since we’re making confessions and all, I might as well tell you that it would’ve been nice to hear from you instead of Kaylee.”
“Yeah, well.” She looked away. “I knew you were busy. I didn’t want to make a big deal about it.”
His eyes grew concerned. “How about you tell me what happened today?”
“I was just off today. I was feeling a little light-headed and having trouble breathing. Then, when I got stressed out with one of my customers, everything went even farther south.”
“And?”
“And I passed out.”
“Honey.”
His tone was so sweet it felt like a warm hug in the middle of January. It also made her want to share even more. “I’m so mad at myself. Even though I knew better, I didn’t take my health seriously.” Looking down at the IV attached to her hand, she sighed. “Even though I knew I should call the doctor or call someone for help, I lied to myself.” Finally looking his way, she added, “Greg, I did so many things wrong and now I’m paying the price.”
He picked up her phone and wagged it at her. “Next time call me, okay?”
She didn’t feel like she could promise him that. Clark had always acted like he was inconvenienced if she was having a bad episode. What if Greg started to think she wasn’t worth the trouble, like Clark had? “I’ll do my best.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He was going to make her spell it out. “It means, you already know that I have a wonky heart. I don’t want to subject you to . . . to this. Again.” She waved a hand over herself. “I look terrible.”
His expression, which had been all soft and sweet, turned stony. “For some reason it seems like we’re not communicating real well.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I came to see you because I was worried about you. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Just so everything is crystal clear, I want to remind you that I’m a fireman. I’m well aware that people don’t look their best during an emergency. I first met you at one such emergency.”
“I haven’t forgotten.”
“Kristen, what I’m trying to say is I don’t want, expect, or need you to look your best all the time. In addition, even though I don’t care how you look, to me you’re always beautiful. But none of that matters. I’m concerned about how you feel.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? Because I don’t know if this is about you being insecure or if it’s about me. Like, do you think I’m the kind of man who only cares about looks?” He raised his voice. “Is that what you think of me? That I’m shallow?”
“Of course not. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what?”
“Greg, why are we fighting?” Frustrated, Kristen felt the tears begin again.
He stared at her for a long moment, then cursed under his breath as he got to his feet and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You feel like crap and I’m telling you what to do.” He kissed her temple. “For the record, you’re so pretty that even in here you look gorgeous.”
She closed her eyes and leaned into him. “Can we forget I said anything?”
“Nope. We’re going to remember what a jerk I’ve been. So next time we’re in this position I’ll behave better.” He lowered his voice. “My momma would be having a cow right about now. She’d be calling me ten times a fool.”
“She’d call you that bad of a name, huh?”
He leaned back so she could see his eyes. They were filled with amusement. “She’d actually have a whole lot more to say, I’m just trying to keep this conversation G-rated.”
She laughed, relieved to have the conversation take a lighter turn, and just then the door opened again.
Greg looked over his shoulder, muttered something again, and sat back down.
Kristen smiled at the newcomer. “Hey, Dr. Gonzales.”
“Kristen. Looks like my timing couldn’t be worse.”
“No, it’s actually perfect. This is Greg Tebo. He’s my, uh, friend.”
“Hopefully he’s a good one.”
Greg stood up and held out his hand. “I am. I was just trying to help her feel better.”
“I see.”
Kristen was pretty sure her cheeks were bright red. “This poor guy has gotten an eye- and earful from me this afternoon. I’m afraid I’ve been crying all day.”
Dr. Gonzales eyed her more carefully. “Why is that? Are you in pain?”
“No. I don’t know.”
“Come now, Kristen. We’ve been through this. Talk to me.”
She wasn’t sure what was wrong. But she really wasn’t in any hurry to act weak in front of Greg. Darting a look in his direction, she wondered how she was going to sufficiently explain herself without seeming weak and helpless.
“I’m going to wait out in the hall,” Greg said.
“You don’t mind?”
“No, sweetheart. I don’t mind at all.”
