Page 93 of Sparking Sara

Denver tries not to laugh, but he’s not doing a very good job. He finally lets it out. “Oh, my God, you didn’t.”

I nod, trying not to laugh myself. “I did. It was horrible.”

“I thought it smelled a little crispy when I walked in. I figured it was leftover soot in my nose from work.” He belts out another laugh. “You burned spaghetti? Really?”

“Really. We ended up ordering Chinese.”

I let out a big sigh.

“Don’t worry,” he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll bet it will get easier.”

I look at his FDNY t-shirt. “No, it’s not that. You said you thought you had soot in your nose. That means you were at a fire.”

“Newsflash, Sara. It’s kind of my job. Oh, and I have good news. I got hired on permanently at Engine 319.”

My excited eyes snap to his. I know how much he wanted to find a long-term placement. “You did?”

He nods proudly.

Without thinking, I throw my arms around him. “That’s fantastic, Denver. I can’t believe you waited twenty minutes to tell me. You should have led with that.”

His arms wrap around me and hold me tight. It feels nice to have his arms around me. I feel protected. Safe.

He clears his throat and pulls away. I realize it’s the second time he’s pulled away from me in the last few minutes. I should stop hugging him. It obviously makes him uncomfortable.

“I’m glad you got the permanent position,” I say. “But I’ll always worry about you.”

He cocks his head to the side. “You will?”

“Of course I will. You run into burning buildings. You rescue women from cars hanging off bridges. Your job is dangerous.”

His eyes soften. “Do you realize construction workers have a higher incidence of on-the-job injuries than firefighters?”

“Yeah, but they probably take a nail gun in the foot or something. When you guys get injured, it’s much more serious.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Sara. I’m always prepared. And I’m good at what I do. Especially now. You’re part of the reason I got the full-time gig, you know.”

“Me?”

“Being in that car with you after your accident, it was one of the most intense moments of my life. And it proved to me that I could do it. After that day, I noticed it got easier for me to handle the MVA calls. I mean, I’m not sure I’ll ever be totally okay with them, but at least now I can be part of the team and know nobody will be able to call me out for not doing my part.”

“That must have been very hard for you,” I say. “Not feeling like you belonged anywhere.”

“It is what it is. But enough about me,” he says, checking the time on his phone. “Let’s get you to your first outpatient therapy session. Do you mind if I leave the painting here and pick it up when I drop you off later today?”

“That would be fine.”

I can’t help my smile, knowing he now has a reason to come back up to my place this afternoon. I know it’s not right, wanting him here as much as I do. But I can’t deny the fact that every time I look into his eyes, I feel like I’m home. More at home than when I’m standing in the middle of my own apartment.

Chapter Twenty-three

I’m exhausted after my third day of PT. Donovan says I’m making great improvements. I reach down and rub my sore left leg, happy that he thinks I’m doing so well. But I still feel like a freak whenever I walk and my leg drags behind me.

Seeing my so-called friends at the art gallery the other day didn’t help my confidence much. I know Denver meant well. He’s just doing what the doctor said and is trying to immerse me into my life. But I saw the stares and the whispers from the three women at the gallery who showed up to ‘support’ me. They all had excuses as to why they never visited me, and they turned up their noses when they saw me limp across the room. Their fake smiles and air kisses had me loathing the fact that I had become one of them.

Davis was kind to me, although it looked like he just felt sorry for me.

I think back to when I was living at the rehab center. People didn’t feel sorry for me there. They pushed me. I was surrounded by people who were uplifting and encouraging. Now I’m encountering lots of people who treat me like I’m the stray dog with the gimpy leg.

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