“I’m not coming back, Dean,” I tell him straight, and just the thought of not having to step foot in that firehouse with Kyra, all of a sudden has my stomach settling.
“What? No, you have to come back. You need to tell the rest of the crew that I had nothing to do with that beam falling on you. The guys are all treating me like I’m a bigger threat to them than the fire. I swear I didn’t do anything to that ceiling, Poppy. But if you don’t come back and tell them that, then I’ll always have that uncertainty hanging over my head at any firehouse I work in. I’ll be the guy who tried to kill his ex-girlfriend, because she was about to report him for sexual harassment in the workplace. That’s what Kyra told the rest of the crew, but not Rosco, obviously, because then he would have to report it. And the crew don’t know whether to believe her or not. This whole thing is fucked up. I just need you to come back to work, even if it’s just for a month. Convince them it’s all bullshit and then resign, you at least owe me that.” Dean lifts up his hands, locking his fingers together and then resting them on the top of his head, looking at me in desperation.
“I owe you jack shit, Dean. You treated me terribly when we were together, I can see that now. And the way you treated me at work after we broke up was atrocious. So, no, Dean, I don’t owe you a thing. Maybe you will learn a lesson from all of this on how to treat women. And all I can hope is that your next girlfriend might benefit from the pain I had to endure to make you a better man.” Watching his body language, I’m getting more certain by the minute he didn’t come here to talk about the fire. I can see the muscles in his jaw tighten, as he breaks into a sweat.
Slowing down my words, I start again, commanding his attention to what I’m saying. “I don’t know what you thought you would achieve by coming here, but all I want from you is to tell me what happened in that fire. Who pulled that ceiling down on me? Was it an accident? Did someone fuck up? Because I canunderstand that. We all make mistakes, but own that mistake, otherwise you don’t deserve to wear that uniform.” I take a deep breath, but this time, I gather myself up and step closer to Dean, narrowing my gaze so he knows I’m serious. “Was it you, Dean? Did you make a mistake, and now you’re worried if you own up to it, that it could jeopardize your career? I can swallow that, but I can’t take you being gutless. You might be a lot of things, but I never took you for a coward.” I know I’m skating on thin ice here, pushing Dean who already appears to be worked up.
“You listen to me, Poppy, and listen good.” Dean starts waving his finger at me. “Idoknow who pulled that ceiling down on top of you, but until you agree to come back with me to Rochester and play happy firefighters until my name is cleared, then you can demand all you like for me to name them, but I’m not sharing that little piece of gold for no reward. You have two days to think about it. I’m staying at the Fullerton Hotel. Make sure you turn up with a packed bag ready for a road trip, and I’ll share that information when we’re back in Rochester. And if you think you can send your ‘hero’ boyfriend around to get it out of me, think again. I’ll take that shit to the grave or have him locked up on assault charges. Either way, you’ll never know what really happened that day, and I’m guessing that will eat you alive.” He crosses his arms over his chest to show he means business.
I knew Dean was awful, but that evil glint in his eyes tells me I have grossly underestimated how truly disgusting he is.
“Get. The. Fuck. Out,” I growl at him, reaching out and shoving him toward the hallway and back to the front door.
“Two days, Poppy. Make sure you’re at the hotel and ready to come home with me. Otherwise, you’ll rot in your own memory-loss misery.” Dean then opens the door, storms out, and doesn’t even look back. Getting into his car parked across the road from Mom’s house, his tires screech as he takes off, and I’m leftgripping the open door, shaking uncontrollably, not from fear, but from pure rage!
Not this fucking time, Dean. I hold the power in my life now. Just me, nobody else. I’d rather never know than pander to your threats. So, the only person who will be living in hell will be you, because no one will ever look at you the same way again. There will always be that doubt that hovers around you. And I’m perfectly okay with that. You deserve it, whether it’s true or not. It’s karma for everything you did to hurt me along the way.
Slamming the door, I walk back into the living room and pull my phone from my pocket to message Felix. I tell him I won’t be back for a little while, and then I call Meara, feeling grateful when she picks up on the first ring and has time to talk. I pour out to her everything that just happened, but most of all, I wanted to share with her how strong I was. To tell her I was proud of myself, and if I never completely recover my memory, I’m actually okay with that. Because I choose happiness and to bury the bitterness and fear. I’m done with the accident being a handbrake on my life. I told Meara I’m telling Landon that I’m moving home to Boston permanently to be with him, the boys, and my mom. And most importantly that I’m ready to be a firefighter again. I’ll do whatever psych test she needs me to take, but I’m done sitting on the sidelines any longer.
“I’m taking my life back,” I declare forcefully into the phone.
“Bravo to you, Poppy. I’m so fucking proud of you,” Meara shouts down the phone.
“Wait, you don’t swear,” I reply, laughing a little.
“Not when I’m in the office, you’re right. But I’m at home, on my second beer for a Friday night, so you’re getting the real me tonight.” That has us both laughing, and it feels amazing.
The rest of the night went smoothly, thank goodness. After putting the boys to sleep, I’m lying in bed reading to take my mind off how I’m going to tell Landon about Dean. I’m not sharing with him about where Dean’s staying because I don’t want my boyfriend in jail after he tracks Dean down to defend my honor.
But I want to tell him everything else. About the false declaration of love from Dean because he needed something from me, and continuing up to the annoying point where Dean said he knows what happened that night. But the reality is, I don’t know whether to believe Dean that he knows something or whether he’s just bluffing to get me to do what he needs me to. And the most important point is that today I had the epiphany that knowing what really happened doesn’t actually matter now. It won’t change the result of that day, and I know now that just being alive is all that matters. I’m never going to work in Rochester again, so the fear of having to work with someone who wanted me dead, for whatever reason, is null and void.
The calmness that’s sitting with me tonight is a welcome relief. It’s been a long time since I didn’t feel a heavy worry hanging over me. Even knowing that Landon will explode when I tell him everything doesn’t worry me either. Because we can work through it and move on with our lives, without having to give Dean a second thought.
Hearing the garage door going up, I know Landon is home, and I just want to get it over with, then hopefully he will make good on the promise he made when he left home earlier tonight.
That would be the perfect way to celebrate me telling him I’m coming home.
LANDON
“I thought you’d be asleep, sweetheart,” I say as I slide into bed behind Poppy, who is as naked as I am. I wrap my arms around her, being the big spoon.
This is the perfect way to end a long night. I thought Tessa was doing okay over the last few weeks and that she’d be ready to cope with a Friday-night shift, but I was wrong.
She spent more time flirting with the older men in the bar, taking way too long to serve their drinks, and pocketing all the tips. She knows the rules at Lucinda’s: all tips are pooled, including anything that Adrian and I collect. It’s then split evenly between everyone on shift that night, of course omitting Adrian and me. We don’t need it, and it’s a little bonus for our staff for their hard work. Sharing tips is about being a team player. It boosts morale and encourages a supportive atmosphere.
Tonight, I found out that Tessa is not a team player. She’s made it obvious that she’s in this world for herself and that’s it. When I asked her where her tips were for the night so I could split the cash before everyone finished their shift, she straight-up lied to my face and told me she had already put them in the tip jar. I know for a fact she didn’t because I saw one guy give her a fifty-dollar bill after she stood leaning on the high-top table he and his buddies were at, flashing her tits at them, and had them almost spilling their drinks. There was no fifty-dollar bill in that jar. I didn’t call her out on it tonight because I just didn’thave the energy to get into a confrontation with Tessa. I decided that tomorrow would be soon enough. It’s not like she was going to come clean and then put whatever cash she had into the pot for tonight. Adrian had tonight off, but we’re both working tomorrow, so I’ll tackle Tessa over it then.
I don’t want to create any problems between her and Poppy over it, so I’ll just keep this to myself for the time being until after I’ve spoken to Tessa.
But for now, I bury my nose into Poppy’s luscious blonde hair that smells freshly washed in my favorite cherry blossom shampoo. It reminds me of April in Boston when all the cherry trees are in bloom and it’s so picturesque. I can’t wait to share it with Poppy this year.
“I was waiting up for you,” Poppy eventually replies after she has enjoyed soaking up the warmth of the hug. She rolls herself to face me. “You sound tired.” She runs her hand down my face over my beard, her fingers playing in the hair, scraping her nails on my skin underneath. It’s one of her favorite things to do when we’re lying here together, relaxing. She told me one night that it’s like she’s soothing the savage beast, in her eyes, and I’m not going to deny how much I love it too.
“Just a busy night and a few dramas, nothing out of the ordinary for a Friday night.” I hope like hell she doesn’t ask me how Tessa did tonight, because I really struggle keeping things from Poppy.
“Okay then. Well, I’m sorry to pile on top of that, but I need to talk to you about something important, and I don’t want to wait until the morning.” My heart skips a beat, immediately worried it’s going to be the news I’ve been dreading, that she’s moving back to Rochester. But I’m at the point now that if that’s what she’s decided, I just want her to rip the Band-Aid off and get it over and done with.
“What is it, Poppy?” I ask, trying not to show any indication that I’m worried.
