Page 10 of Just a Little Crush
I pick her up again and, fortunately, she’s less resistant next time.
“Bec, you can’t stay here by yourself. I know your ankle will feel better in a few days, but right now you need to keep the weight off and do as little as possible.”
“I’ll manage.”
I shake my head and mutter under my breath. “So stubborn.”
I make a pile of pillows in the centre of her bed, and help her sit back against them. While she tries to get comfortable, I pull a weekend bag from the top of her wardrobe. I set it down on the foot of her bed and look around her room, trying to figure out where she keeps everything.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re coming to stay with me until you’re better. Tell me what you need.”
“I am not,” she says, her voice raised. This is ridiculous.
“You fucking are.” She baulks at the volume of my reaction, and I take a deep breath to calm myself down. “I apologise for swearing at you, but this is not up for debate. You can’t get up and down the stairs, Bec.”
“I’ll ask my mum to come back.”
“And ruin the trip they’ve been planning for so long? Have you forgotten the PowerPoint presentation with their itinerary, because I haven’t. That thing took hours and they’ve still got miles to go.”
“Alyssa can help me.”
“I’ve already spoken to her. She’ll be covering for you in the shop until you’re better. You can’t stay here on your own.”
I pace back and forward at the foot of her bed, my head full of worst-case scenarios. “What if you fall going to the bathroom? What if there’s a fire? I can’t leave you trapped here. My place is all on one level. I’ll set you up in the spare room, and I’ll take a few days off to help you recover.”
“No, you can’t do that for me.”
I huff out a sigh and take a seat next to her on the edge of her bed. “Listen, I know you’re this super badass woman who can do everything herself, but I’d feel so much better if I can keep an eye on you. Please, Bec, you need to let me help you.”
“Why?” she frowns.
“Because it’s my fault.”
She frowns. She’s so cute when she frowns. “What, you’re like the god of storms or something?”
“No, but I knew how bad it could be. I shouldn’t have let you go out in this weather.”
“It’s my job. I wouldn’t have let you stop me.”
I bury my hands in the pockets of my hoodie and stare at the floor.
“Renn, you can’t possibly believe this was your fault. It was a freak accident. Please tell me you know that, right?”
“I know, it’s just—“ What’s the point in trying to explain it to her when I can’t even explain it to myself? I’m normally pretty good at compartmentalising work and my personal life. Firefighters have to be. We can’t be thinking about the last job when we’re on to the next, and it’s a slippery slope to come home and revisit every detail over and over.
So why can’t I shake the panicked feeling I had when I first saw Bec’s car?
I thought I’d lost her, and worst-case scenarios are not something I do. The training kicks in, I assess a situation with the information I have at the time and, sure, we run through potential outcomes, but I do not allow myself to think the worst.
I keep replaying the look on her face when she saw me, and the relief I felt when I realised she was alive. I’m not ready to unpack either of those things.
I have this need for control, I’ve always had it. I don’t like surprises and I don’t like chaos. I like order. I like to tick things off lists and stick to plans and Bec getting hurt was never in any fucking plan. Yes, I know I broke protocol when I dragged her out of her car, and I know I’ll probably get written up for it. It will be my first ever infringement, but I don’t care. In that moment, I had to have her safe in my arms. This is not order and control, and it’s thrown me for a loop.
Bec stares at me, waiting for an answer I can’t give her. I turn away and leave the room to take a look around her flat.
When we were kids, this place was mostly empty. Her Grandpa used it for his office and storage, and she’s done a beautiful job of turning it into a home. It’s small but cosy thanks to the carpet she had fitted, and the thick, long curtains I helped her hang. Too many trinkets and things for my liking but that’s just Bec’s personal taste. All these bloody candles are a fire hazard.
