Fine. I grab Spencer’s shirt and kiss him. He freezes for a second before kissing me back. My eyes are still firmly planted on Jake, letting him know exactly what I think of him dictating my life. I’m over it. I’m over him.
When I pull away, Jake still doesn’t move. Finally, he says with a nod toward Spencer, “It looks like you’ve already made your choice.”
“You made that choice for me last night.”
Jake drops the white takeout back onto the closest empty table and exits the café without a backward glance. Something twists in my chest. This isn’t how it was supposed to feel.
I told myself I’d forget Jake Thompson. I just didn’t know it would take four years to stop loving him.
Chapter Five
Emily
Four Years Later
“There’s an injured child at Whispering Pines Park. Please be advised, an officer is on site. A Caucasian child, approximately six years of age, wearing a red shirt and blue shorts. Possible head injury and broken arm,” says the police dispatcher over our radio frequency.
I glance at Dale, my partner. “We’re only five blocks away.” Not that anyone else is on call during our shift.
“Got it.” He grabs his radio mic and presses the button. “Officer Sanders, we’re three minutes from the location. Over.”
I fasten my safety belt and give a longing glance at the front window of Brookhaven Market. We were ten feet away. I sigh. Another day. My attention shifts to my black polyester pants that stretch tightly over my thighs. Not that I need one of Jolie’s desserts anyway.
When the owners of Jolie’s closed the café due to health reasons earlier this year, they continued making their famous desserts and selling them at the grocery store. It was a blessing for me because I never stepped foot in the café again afterthatday.
Thatday that we never speak of. Orthatguy that we never think about.
But I sure missed their triple chocolate cake, something terrible. I tug on the fabric of my pants again. Maybe it’s not such a blessing that they’ve kept selling their desserts.
“Copy that. Please proceed to the identified location.” The dispatcher’s voice is calm and unhurried. Ora is one of the best at her job. You can’t find someone who’s better than her at speaking clearly while calming a frantic caller. Of course, she’s been on the job since I was in grade school, so she’s had years of experience.
The front door of the grocery swings open, and the sight makes my stomach grumble. I was so close.
“Sorry, Em, we’ve got work to do.” Dale shifts the ambulance into reverse, flips on the lights so the traffic will stop for us, and eases into traffic. His pale green eyes twinkle with mischief. The tint of his eyes is gorgeous with his tan complexion.
The man is fifteen years older than me, with a wife who adores him and two teenage sons in high school. We’ve been partnered up since I graduated from EMT school a year and a half ago.
“I know.” I sag back into the black cushion and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, deciding not to bother with redoing my ponytail. “But I didn’t eat anything this morning.”
“You should’ve gotten up earlier.” He flicks on the blinker, whips around a stopped car that’s pulled over for us, and moves effortlessly through traffic, slipping back into the driving lane.
“I got up just fine.” I slide back into my seat as the movement of the ambulance shifts me from side to side.
“Besides, I know you were only going in there to get a piece of Jolie’s famous triple chocolate cake. That’s not a proper meal for an adult.”
“Shut up.” I glare at him out of the corner of my eye as I cross my arms over my chest.
The corner of his mouth twitches upward. “I got up in plenty of time to stop and grab something to eat.” He rubs his belly with that annoying smirk plastered on his lips.
“Yeah, a donut.”
“You’re wrong,” he says with a chuckle while bypassing another stopped vehicle with a slight squeal of the tires. “I had two donuts.”
I’m positive the only reason Dale became a first responder was to drive like a maniac. He always drives, and I make the initial patient contact.
“Thanks,Dad,” I say the word laced with the sarcasm he deserves. “But my mom called about her upcoming shoulder surgery, all stressed out over who’s going to help her after she comes home and kept me on the phone for twenty minutes.” Both my brother and I have reassured her countless times that we’ve got everything covered.
“Seriously, people, we have the lights on. We have somewhere to be,” Dale mutters as he flips on the siren for two seconds and then switches it back off as the black car in front of us keeps pace with the established speed limit. Unless it’s a life-threatening emergency, we leave the sirens off.
