Page 14 of Courageous Yearnings

In the firetruck on the way back to the station, Colton had revealed that he’d married his ex-girlfriend and had a secret child that he’d just found out about. The boy was three, and the firefighter he admired more than anything looked so blissfully happy at both announcements.

Both Lance and Alec kept reminding Colton that his ex-girlfriend had ignored him, ghosted him, and left him without any word yet it didn’t seem to matter. Colton had some blind obsession regarding his new wife and some crazy theory that they were going to get past all of the misunderstandings somehow.

He hadn’t understood at that moment, but carrying Blythe to the ambulance, seeing her unresponsive, and getting hit with the news that she nearly died? Well, that had a way of changing your priorities. The way she clung to his hand had nearly broken him. No, he hadn’t understood Colton’s easy change of heart.

… But he did now.

Life was short and much too fleeting.

The woman he’d felt such an attraction to on the day that those calendar photos were taken— she was nearly taken from him. He hadn’t been ready to finally ‘grow up’, mature, and look at settling down… but the feelings that ricocheted through him watching her sleep fitfully with the oxygen mask on her face, her breath rasping hoarsely with each breath, made his own chest ache.

Nothing else mattered anymore. No, death and nearly losing someone had a very brutal way of putting things in perspective, and his vision was startling clear now. He was going to do the once-insipid things just to see her eyes sparkle at him, to see that smile, and to be able to hear her already husky voice laugh with him.

Walking toward the nurses’ station, Lance nodded in a distracted greeting.

“Blythe Monroe in room number four just woke up…”

“Ah, good, Sleeping Beauty is awake now. I’ll be right in to get her vitals and check on her.”

“Can you get her something for pain – she was complaining of her chest hurting.”

“I’ll get her something if the doctor allows it.”

“Do you mind if I grab her another blanket from the warmer down the hallway?” Lance asked suddenly, remembering how cool she felt at the touch of her hand.

The nurse nodded, pointing down the hallway, and he moved toward the unit that was plugged in nearby. When he was little, his mother used to throw his towel in the dryer. She had died when he was young, and his father had taken off to who knows where, but he still remembered that memory. It was wonderful to be enshrouded in something cozy, knowing you were safe and cared for, and he wanted to give Blythe that sensation. Even now, as an adult, he kept a plug-in towel warmer in his bathroom near the shower. He plucked out two of the thin blankets – and then grabbed a third one, just in case, before returning to her room.

As Lance slipped into the room, he saw Blythe’s eyes were closed, and her hand that had the I.V. in it was laying on her chest… holding something. Curious, he walked over silently and unfurled a blanket, tucking it around her feet carefully, trying not to disturb her. He shook out another one and draped it over her upper legs and torso and paused.

Completely taken aback and humbled, he realized that she was holding the tiny card from the flower arrangement that he’d bought her to brighten up her room. It had been a simple thought, done without hesitation. He just didn’t want her to wake up alone or in some dark, isolated room. She would be scared, and everything in him just wanted to comfort her. Moving to shake out the third blanket, he started to lay it over her and saw her eyes watching him.

“They’re bringing you something to help with the aching,” he said softly. “I thought you might like a warm blanket… or several of them.”

“Thank you,” she began and then flinched, swallowing audibly and trying not to cough. He helped her sit up and gingerly patted her upper shoulder blades over her hospital gown as she tried to suppress the cough that had to be hurting her right now.

“Might be an old wives’ tale, but the sisters at the orphanage swore that having someone pat you helped bring up any congestion.”

“Not… sick…” she rasped, her voice sounding raw and gravelly.

“No, you aren’t, but it doesn’t mean that you don’t have some nasty stuff to expel,” he replied, rubbing her shoulders and patting them, trying not to make this about him touching or feeling her; rather, he was just trying to comfort her. “Let me know if you want another warm blanket,” he chuckled softly. “I know where the hidden stash is, and I’m not afraid to mug them for another satisfying hit of the good stuff.”

Blythe laughed hoarsely, then coughed hard – and he winced. It sounded painful to him, combined with the small sound of distress she made, waving and reaching for a tissue. He quickly handed her one, and she spit out something, looking utterly fatigued and disgusted as she lay back.

“Are you okay?” he asked, smoothing back her hair to comfort her – and she waved him closer. Leaning down, he put his ear toward her face, so she didn’t have to exert much effort.

“My mouth… tastes like charcoal,” she rasped gingerly, and he chuckled, grinning at her.

“Is that an invitation? You know men and their grills - we love barbecue.”

And for the first time in two days – she rolled her eyes and smiled at him before mouthing ‘No’. He didn’t mind in the slightest because seeing her almost back to her old sassy self was probably the best thing ever. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes.

He moved to remove the little card that had been on the flowers he purchased for her from her hand only to have her reach forward and grab it again. Before he could question it, she quickly pinched her eyes shut, almost as if to avoid him, and laid the card back down across her chest, putting her hand over it.

Right over her heart.

“All right,” he whispered. “Get some rest, and I won’t touch it.”

Lance moved toward the seat on the other side of the room, plopping down and kicking it back slightly so he could try to get some sleep, and couldn’t fight the smile on his lips.

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