Page 36 of Saved By the Firefighter

"Marcus," I begin, my tone warning. "You're being ridiculous."

"Ellie," he mimics my tone, turning to give me a pointed look. "I'm serious."

"Okay, fine, I'm not seeing anyone. Happy?" I throw my hands up. “I’m tired of you asking me this. How many times do I have to tell you I’m not seeing anyone?” Which is completely the truth. I want to be seeing someone, but currently, I am not.

He doesn't respond, just keeps driving, but I can feel the weight of his skepticism hanging in the air between us.

"Look, I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions," I insist, hoping to close the subject.

"Sure," Marcus mutters, but his silence tells me this conversation isn't over and he’s going to bring it up again later.

The sooner I get back to my apartment, the better.

I stare out the passenger window, watching the suburban blur of Cedar Ridge pass by, thankful for the silence. My thoughts drift, tangled up with the man I simply can’t stop thinking about. I hope I get a chance to talk to him soon because this knot of emotions I keep feeling is getting to be too much.

I rub my chapped lips together, then I reach down for my purse. With a sigh, my fingers root around inside until I find the familiar tube of lip gloss. It's a small comfort, the routine swipe of shimmer across my lips, but it helps to keep me grounded in the here and now. At least for a moment.

"What's that?" The question comes out of nowhere, and I glance over at Marcus, who's peering at the tube like it's a foreign object.

"Uh, lip gloss?" I say, quirking an eyebrow at the strange question. It's not like makeup is an anomaly in my life—he's seen me use it a hundred times.

"That yours?"

I laugh. “Are you accusing me of stealing someone’s lip gloss now? Yes, it’s mine.” I cap the gloss and toss it back into my purse. “It’s damn expensive but my lips love it. I get it shipped in from Cali because I can never find it in stores here. Small town problems, I guess.”

Marcus goes quiet after that, and I glance at him. He looks like he’s concentrating on the road more than necessary, like he’s worried a deer will jump out of a bush at any moment.

“You okay?” I ask, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen my brother look like that—so hard and rigid. If a deer did suddenly appear, his expression says that he’d hit it on purpose.

He nods, slightly, eyes still laser-focused on the road.

I turn my head to gaze out the passenger-side window, a little unsettled. But I don’t dwell on it because I try not to worry too much about what goes through my brother’s head—it’s often unreasonable.

The key turns in the lock, and Marcus and I step into the silence of his home. His shoulders are rigid, like a barricade against whatever thoughts are in his head right now. I know that look, the brooding storm cloud about to burst, but for once, I don't have it in me to figure out what he’s upset about. He retreats to his room without a word, and I exhale. I have bigger bubbles to burst—or soak in, to be exact. A bath is calling my name, and I am not one to deny such a simple pleasure, especially after such a tiring work week.

I slip into my room, shrug off the day's weight along with my clothes, then turn on the faucets to fill the bathtub. Steam curls up from the water as I step in. The warmth slowly envelops me until all of my muscles are relaxed. I’m so relaxed, I don’t even have the energy to drop in a bath bomb. Oh well, this soothing heat is really all I need right now.

My mind drifts to what I need to pack up so I can finally return home. I don’t have a lot, so in theory I could jump out of this tub, pack it all up, and be home before ten. But I’m already here, so I can just rest this evening and pack up in the morning. Tomorrow, I’ll also have more energy to figure out what made Marcus so moody.

As I dip my chin into the water and let my mind go blank, my phone buzzes once. I glance at the bathroom counter where it’s resting. I thought I put it on silent. Maybe it’s Danielle, but I decide it can wait for a few minutes.

I let myself soak for another ten minutes, then I quickly wash myself and my hair. As the tub is draining, I wrap a towel around my head and a robe around my body before checking my phone. It’s only a notification from my period tracker app.

I read it a few times, confused. My period is three days late?

I frown. That doesn’t make sense. I’m on the pill so my cycle comes and goes like clockwork.

Feeling a little irritated, I grab my birth control pack off the counter and flip through the tiny pills. The remaining ones are all active pills—I'm not supposed to start the placebos for another week.

I’m so confused, so I do what I can to figure this out. First, I check my app’s calendar and discover I didn’t log my last period. It would’ve been around the time of the forest fire. I may have dismissed the notifications or otherwise spaced it. I was very stressed out, so I can understand why that happened, but I’m always good with taking my pills. Even if I forgot to track it, the pills regulate the timing, but…do I remember my last period?

It’s all a blur because that time frame was such a mess.

It’s possible I started my current pill packet late or missed some doses or…I don’t know. I’m sure it’s all fine, though.

My dizzying 24 hours with Jake floats back to me in vivid detail—our laughter, his hands and lips exploring every inch of my skin. The way he thrust inside me, completely unprotected, raw and…

My stomach knots with a cocktail of fear and dread, but I may be overreacting. There’s no reason to freak out because there’s a very quick way to get answers and put my mind at ease.

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