I lowered my head and clenched my fists before raising my head to look her in the eye. “I’d been going downhill for a while. A few years back, a lieutenant and I got trapped in a warehouse fire. A beam fell on us. I was injured but Gary got it the worse. He had removed his helmet and mask. His skull was nearly caved in. I tried my damndest to resuscitate him while the guys outside had to search for a way to get to us. By the time they did, Gary was dead and I had second degree burns, smoke inhalation, and a major back injury.”
“You were given oxycodone for the pain,” she stated just above a whisper.
“Yeah.”
“And it turned into a habit.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“So what happened?”
“The final straw was Eric walking in on me stumbling around the bathroom.” I squeezed my fists, hating the memory of that embarrassment. “He reported me to the higher ups.”
“He reported you? You two seem so close when you’re around one another.” Shock was apparent in her voice.
“We are,” I countered. “Eric did what he was supposed to. My behavior wasn’t just endangering to myself. It put all of my brothers at the station house and the people we were supposed to be saving at risk.” I still regretted the position I’d put Eric in. “The brass put me on a six month suspension and demanded that I check into a thirty day rehab before I was able to return.”
“Did you go?” Michelle questioned as she leaned into my shoulder, laying her head down and starting to stroke my jaw again. Her touch was soothing the raw edges of pain from that time period.
I nodded slightly. “I went. Could’ve gotten out of it by using my name to throw my weight around but I knew I’d lose the respect of my teammates. And the last thing any guy in my squad wants is to lose the respect of the guys who walk through hell with him. They wouldn’t hold it against me for needing help, but they sure as fuck would hold my being a pussy and not owning up to what I’d done against me.”
“How was rehab?”
“A shithole.” I smirked and pressed a kiss to her lips when she giggled. “No really, it was one of those secluded, expensive places that a lot of celebs go to detox and get dry. My father saw to it that I’d have my privacy.”
“Your family supported you?”
“They did.” I’ll never forget the unquestioning support I received from all the members of my family and my squad.
“And the department let you return. No questions asked after your stay?”
“I took another thirty days off and continued to see a shrink for a few months after.”
“I’m sure that wasn’t easy to do for a guy like you.”
I gave her a curious look.
“You know what I mean. You’re the oldest of four brothers so you’ve obviously been looked up to your entire life. The last name you carry holds a lot of respect. You’re a damn special forces veteran and now, work for the toughest rescue squad in all of the Williamsport Fire Department. And you wear it naturally, as if you were born to carry the weight of it all. I imagine it took a lot ask for help.”
She had me pegged. Described perfectly the heart of who and what I was.
“It was the hardest thing I’d ever done.” In spite of that admission, I smiled, gazing down at her. “But instead of it being utterly humiliating as I thought it would’ve been, it was the most humbling and rewarding time of my life. I’ve fought wars and beat back hundreds of fires, but nothing showed me how tough I was like asking and receiving help.” I moved, pulling her into me again and resettling her head on my shoulder. Inhaling, I smelled the sweet scent of the moisturizer she’d put on at my place. “And if I hadn’t had that experience, we wouldn’t be here right now. And this,” I squeezed her hip with my left hand, “youare my destiny.”
It was quiet for a long while. I could feel her thoughts as they ran through her mind. I’d just laid a lot at her feet. There was still more where that came from, but I believed in doling out my secrets in doses. She would get to know all of me and I her, in due time.
“Have you taken drugs since then?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t picked up anything stronger than a beer in well over a year. I haven’t even touched ibuprofen since then.” I had no desire to.
I felt her head move as she nodded. “You were a situational user.”
I pinched my brows, wondering how she knew a rather clinical term. I’d heard counselors at the rehab center use it on occasion.
“I learned that phrase while reading up on addictions.” She sighed. “I wanted to learn more about my mom.”
My eyebrows spiked.
“She used drugs all my life from what I can remember. My father died of a heart attack when I was still a baby. I thought that maybe that was what set her off. Caused her to love drugs more than me. But I read and found out that it wasn’t just any one thing. She was an addict and she’d actually been using way before I came into the picture or my father died. My whole life I was the one taking care of her. At ten, I was running home from school on the first of the month to check the mailbox for my father’s social security check before she could get to it. I paid our rent and bought groceries. Sometimes … most times, I wasn’t quick enough so we wouldn’t have food for weeks because she spent everything on drugs. More than once, she sold my clothes and other belongings to get more money for her next fix. We moved from place to place.” She blew out a shaky breath, and I pulled her into me tightly. I hated the pain I heard in her voice as she relived those memories. Suddenly, another thought came to me.
