Page 4 of Bleeding Hearts

I keep working. The weight of it all is heavy, and I’m afraid to speak. Still not confident I won’t break down now that it’s over.

We load up and drive back to the firehouse. Once there, everyone heads for the showers to clean up before heading out. Our shift ended an hour ago. The new crew is here, ready to relieve us.

As soon as I’m clean, I grab my bag from my locker and make a beeline for the backdoor where my truck is parked. I need to get the fuck out of here.

What the hell was I thinking?I know better than to get in a crashed vehicle. But as soon as I saw whose it was, I couldn’t stop myself.

Just like I know what I’m about to do now is a huge no-no. But Bethany’s someone I know, so it’s different. I call the hospital and ask to speak to Rebecca. She was Stephanie’s friend, and we’ve stayed in touch over the years. I explain who Bethany is, why I’m concerned, and after a lot of persuading, since she and I know that it’s against HIPPA laws for her to share, she offers me something. I think she finally gave in because she knows that I won’t give up. She made me promise to keep this between us. It also helped she was on her break, and no one was around to overhear. What she told me was vague, but it helped.

Bethany’s in surgery, will be for a few more hours. Both of her legs are broken, her left is worse. Her pelvis has a hairline fracture. Her spine is bruised, and additional time is required before they’ll know how bad that one is. She suffered several internal injuries as well. They’ll likely remove her spleen. As if that wasn’t enough, she has several bruised ribs, multiple lacerations on her face and arms that required stitches. She’ll be in the hospital for a while until she’s well enough to be moved to a rehab center.

Although it’ll take her months to recover, she will eventually heal.

Slamming the phone onto the passenger seat, I grunt and turn the key, the truck’s engine sputtering to life. While I process, I breathe in deeply and experience a sense of calm settle in over me. After carefully looking around, I back out and merge into the traffic on the road that will take me to my next stop.

Bethany’s gonna be okay and continue to be a pain in my ass for many days, possibly years, to come. I don’t know why that makes me smile, but it does. We banter daily about unimportant shit while I ignore the sparks flying between us each time she opens her smart mouth, telling me exactly what she thinksabout my grumpy attitude, pointing out that a smile won’t give me wrinkles or ruin my day. I’d act like I hated it, rolling my eyes as I walked away. Mumbling to myself before storming into the house and straight up to my room, slamming the door, and jerking off, thinking about everything she does that turns me on. Afterwards, I’d collapse onto my bed, berating myself for being such a jerk and lacking the confidence to seize the moment and kiss away her sassiness. Telling myself the same old lie. Next time she opens that damn mouth of hers, I’m walking right over there, kissing her in a way that will blow her fucking mind.

Parking along the curb, I stare out the front window of my truck at the marble remembrance wall I visit at least once a week, sometimes more. It never gets easier. Guilt always floods my veins, knowing I didn’t see the signs until it was too late, and she was gone.

As I open the door, the stifling humidity steals my breath. Summer in Savannah is hot and muggy, and I sometimes wonder why I continue living here.

Wanting to get home to the girls, I force myself to walk forward until Stephanie’s nameplate comes into view. I take a seat across from it, feeling the smooth wood of the bench against my back.

“Hi. It’s been a crazy day. Had an extraction from a motor vehicle accident. A woman. My neighbor. The one I’ve told you about. The one I know you’d like and tell me to grow a pair and make a move. It feels weird I know you’d say that, since you’re my wife and you should be telling me to keep my hands firmly in my pockets and eyes on the ground. I mean, if you were alive, you’d have said that, but now you’d tell me it’s time to move on. Maybe it is. I don’t know how long a husband is expected to grieve. It’s been three years. Is that long enough?”

The wind stirs around me, and it blows the flowery scent of the bushes blooming down the open breezeway. I like to believeit’s the delicate scent of her perfume as she settles beside me and shakes her head, but it’s not.

“I’m trying. I promise.” As I lean forward, my elbows find their place on my knees, offering support and stability. “I miss you. The girls miss you. You should have talked to me instead of…”

I hate that Stephanie left us like she did. Unable to talk to me about how she couldn’t shake the postpartum and eventually it caught up to her. I don’t blame her. But the hole in my heart will never heal. We didn’t have the perfect relationship, but she was the only person who got me then ended up being one more who left me before I was ready to say goodbye.

That’s why I’ve kept my distance from the woman who lives across the street. I can’t risk getting close to anyone else. She’s too much of a risk for my heart. Love is a thing of my past, something I never plan to fall for again. I’ve lost too many people. First my mom when I was barely a teenager. My father died next, shortly after I started my job at the fire station. And then out of nowhere I lost the love of my life, my wife.

My heart won’t survive another loss. And today was a reminder that it could happen anytime. We have no control over it. It’s best to just keep my head down and walk through life alone.

It’s easier this way.

Chapter 3

Nolan

As I pull into my drive, I spot Cora sitting on the front porch in the shade, a pitcher of iced tea within reach. The smell of freshly cut grass fills the air as the girls play outside, their carefree laughter a sweet summer sound.

When I work, Cora’s in charge. She’s been my lifesaver. After Stephanie died, my sister stepped up. Something Stephanie would have approved of. She loved Cora, would’ve chosen her over some stranger stepping in to raise our girls.

We both work for Savannah’s Fire and Rescue Department. They’ve worked with us. Making sure our schedules coordinate and don’t overlap. Their cooperation has allowed this to work. On the days she’s in charge, she stays over so the girls don’t feel like they’re being shuffled around.

Mollie greets me as soon as I open my door. With complete faith in my ability to catch her, she leaps into my arms, her blonde curls bouncing wildly as she runs. I do, of course, and sticky hands wrap around my neck as she hugs me like I’ve been gone for days.

“Why are you late?” A frown pulls down the corners of her mouth as she juts out her bottom lip, the adorable pout making me chuckle.

Keeping her stable in my arms, I brush my nose against hers. “I stopped by the cemetery to talk with mommy.”

The whoosh of wheels on pavement announces my other daughter effortlessly gliding our way on her skateboard. With a graceful hop, she kicks her board into the air, catches it, and leans against the dusty bed of my truck.

Kellie’s eleven going on sixteen. At least that’s what it feels like. She’s at that awkward stage where she’s not sure if it’s still cool to do kid stuff or if she should worry about makeup and hair. It’s obvious she’s trying to find her balance by her outfit today of baggy, Bermuda style shorts, an oversized t-shirt hanging off one shoulder, and a tank top underneath. Completing her look, she’s added purple eyeshadow and lipstick. I’ve learned to not turn it into a major issue and just go with it.

“We heard about Miss Beth. Miss Jodi stopped by and took the boys to the hospital for their uncle.” The unmistakable sadness in her eyes is hard to ignore, and it hurts knowing I can’t protect her from this. “Will she be okay?”

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