“Okay,” I murmur and snuggle a little more into his chest.
“Fine,” Mom grumbles but doesn’t look happy at all. “Then get on with it.”
Chapter Eleven
POPPY
The video chat with Mom was exhausting.
Not just physically but emotionally too. I’ve tried so hard to avoid disappointing her in my life, but today, I think I did just that.
Landon took over the conversation for me and managed to convince her to stay in Boston. At least for today, until we speak to the doctors again tomorrow and see what they have to say.
I closed my eyes as soon as Landon ended the call and slept solidly for two hours. I woke up still curled into Landon’s chest and heard him let out a little snore. I doubt he’s slept much since he got here. I tried not to wake him, staying still and just enjoying the moment, but it didn’t last long. Because as soon as my body worked out I was awake, the coughing started again.
Then we argued for a solid ten minutes when I insisted he should leave to find some fresh clothes and toiletries so he could shower. I told him how much he stank, which he didn’t, but it made no difference, he was standing firm. Finally, he gave inwhen I threatened to have him kicked out of my room by security and taken off my access list for visitors.
So now I’m here, alone, just me and my beeping machines that have become almost comforting at this point. Because if there aren’t any alarms sounding, then I must be okay.
I hate the fact that I can’t remember what happened yesterday. It’s like my brain has been wiped from the moment I climbed into the truck to head to the fire site. Closing my eyes doesn’t help either, because for some reason, I feel terrified when I do. There’s a really uneasy feeling sitting in my chest, and I don’t know what it is.
Landon told me I said I was scared when I called him, and I didn’t give him a reason. He’d just assumed I meant from waking up in the hospital alone and injured. But if that was the case, then why hasn’t that anxious and frightened feeling left me now that Landon’s here?
Running through the visions of the day that I can remember isn’t much fun. All I can think about is how awful Dean was and the interaction with his little girlfriend who’s not as sweet as people think she is. Why do I even care about either of them? I should be pushing them out of my mind and concentrating on more important things, like the fire and my recovery.
What went wrong?
That’s my biggest question.
I know the warning signs, I’ve trained so hard all my life to keep safe on the job. Fire is like an animal, a beast of its own. We watch and listen for the smallest cues. Noises, sights and smells that tell us things are about to turn for the worse. Why didn’t I get out before the roof collapsed, and who was with me? We never enter a building to do search-and-rescue on our own. I’m normally with Rosco, so it makes no sense that neither of us got the area cleared before it fell.
Landon mentioned Rosco has been in touch, asking if I could call him. Instead, I told Landon to message him back, telling him to come and see me after the end of shift today. Landon was adamant in his reply to Rosco that it was only to be him visiting me and nobody else. I know it’s part of Landon’s DNA to be protective, I’ve seen it with his boys, but these are my work buddies we’re talking about. The people I trust with my life on a daily basis. So, I understand them wanting to see me. I would be the same if one of them was injured. There was no backing down from Landon, though, when I raised that point. It was to be just Rosco, or no one at all.
I’m too tired and overwhelmed to argue with him on this.
Besides my frustration of not knowing how I got hurt, it’s the feeling of shame that’s sitting with me, that I failed at my job. If I can’t come out of a fire unharmed, then how am I going to keep my own crew safe? Our job is dangerous, and we know every time we head into a fire that we might not make it home. It’s the risk we take. But I can’t risk other people’s lives if I’m incompetent. I qualified as a lieutenant and was top of my class in the exam. However, that means nothing in the real world, where everything is happening at breakneck speed and my crew is depending on me to make the right decisions.
Even if I get the job at Station 135, I don’t know if I should take it. Am I going to overthink every situation and job now? Second-guessing my instincts that I have relied on my whole career? The day I graduated from the academy as a fully-fledged firefighter, my dad’s old crew turned up to congratulate me. Captain Sullivan, my father’s old boss was there. He’s retired now, but Mom told me my dad highly respected him and always said he would run into a fire for him, any day of the week. The same man who pulled me out of the safe box as a tiny baby and fought so hard to have Mom adopt me. He stood in front of meat graduation and gave me a piece of advice I’ve never forgotten. I can still hear his voice like it was yesterday.
“It’s simple, Poppy. Never turn your back on the hidden danger. Look that fire straight in the eye and listen to the beast when it talks. But most importantly, trust your gut. It’ll never let you down.”
He then pulled me in for one of the tightest hugs I can remember receiving and whispered to me how proud my dad would’ve been of me. I’ve carried that advice with me every day on the job, along with my father’s firefighter badge and number tattooed on my chest. It reminds me to never take a day for granted and to always trust my gut. It’s kept me safe on every shift, so why didn’t it yesterday?
I’m turning myself inside out going over and over the day leading up to the alarm bells in the firehouse, to the point I feel like I’m going to vomit. Grabbing the buzzer, I push it over and over again. The door pushes open quickly, and the minute I see the nurse, I point at my mouth, and thank goodness she understands my hand signals. Reaching for a vomit bag from God knows where, she passes it to me just in time.
And of course, just as I’m in the middle of emptying my stomach, Landon walks back in. Not fazed one bit, he’s instantly by my side gently pulling my hair back and rubbing my back.
This would have to be the lowest of lows in my life so far.
As I close my eyes and lay my head back on the pillow to try to settle my stomach, he asks me, “Are you finished with the bag? I’ll get rid of it for you.” I’m so embarrassed I can’t even open my eyes to look at him. I just nod and hold it out for him. Hearing the nurse coming back in, she takes it from him to dispose of, thank goodness.
Judging by the sound of his footsteps and the water running in the bathroom, I’m sure Landon is in there now scrubbing my vomit germs off his hands. Opening my eyes again, I’m surprised to see him walking back out of the bathroom with a wet washcloth and holding it out for me to take.
The cool cloth feels good on my skin.
“Here, this will help to get rid of the taste.” He lifts my cup of water for me to sip on after I wiped my mouth and hands clean, and pulls a breath mint out of his pocket. The little hit of peppermint on my taste buds is a relief from the disgusting flavor the vomit left in my mouth.
“Is your head hurting again?” Before I can answer, he continues. “Throwing up can be a side effect of the concussion,” he says so matter-of-factly as I swallow the candy I’d been chewing on.
