Rekindle (11 page)

Oh, this could be much, much worse before it gets any better.

CHAPTER SEVE
NTEEN

NICK

Tina’s hot and cold is starting to piss me off.  One second, I think we’re on the same page, then in the next, we’re in totally different books.  We’ve lost so much time, I have no idea why she’s running from the idea of fixing what went wrong to begin with.  In the last two years, I’ve changed significantly, and after the little time I’ve spent with her, she has, too.  For the first time in our lives, we’re both in really good spots and it only makes sense to pick up where we left off.

But she disagrees and I can’t make her want to be with me any more than I could when she left.  I’m going to have to sit back and let her come to me, or I risk losing her forever.  And that’s not even an option at this point.  I’ve gone so long without her that I can finally appreciate what she means to me and what I want from our relationship.  I’m not willing to risk that for anything.

Stopping off at Shenanigans, I meet up with Richards and Mack to have a drink before going home … alone.  Pounding back a few shots right off the bat, I switch to beer and sip casually, rejecting propositions from the women who flock here just to get a night with a hero.  Their words, not mine.  We swap a few stories of saves in the last few years, of course going back to the sex swing dude from yesterday.  Laughing and commiserating with these guys is always therapeutic. 

“I’m gonna call in some dinner from Morelli’s.  You guys interested?  There’s a Wings game on tonight.  I’ll grab a pizza and y’all grab the beers?”  In almost a unanimous decision, both guys agree, with Jones coming in to the conversation late and wanting to join us also.

“Door’s open.  Let Hemingway out when you get there and I’ll grab a few pies.”  Paying my tab, I walk out the door and drive the few blocks to one of the best Italian restaurants in the neighborhood.  Parking my truck, I grab my wallet and head inside. 

Stopping at the hostess station, I place my order and take a seat in the ripped and tattered red vinyl chairs and wait for them to call my name.  Pulling out my phone, I debate texting Tina just to say hello, but quickly shove aside the idea in fear of looking desperate and open a game app.  Playing a few rounds, I glance up when the hostess appears back at her station.  Realizing she’s not calling out my order, but seating two couples, I look down again.

Then I hear it.  Her laugh.  A laugh that belongs to me.  Whipping my head up again, I look more closely at the couples making their way to the dining room and nearly lose my shit.  Walking in the dress I love and the heels that were wrapped around my waist the other night, Tina saunters around the tables.  With Flynn’s arm around her middle, holding her to his side. 

“What the fuck?” I mutter, standing to get a better look. 

He pulls out her chair for him and she places her lips—my fucking lips—on his cheek and smiles sweetly at him.  Flynn gently pushes her closer to the table and takes the seat right next to her and even from this distance, I see him take her hand in his and rest them on his leg.  The older couple they’re with I don’t recognize, but the resemblance between the older man and Flynn is undeniable. 

She’s meeting his parents.

So much for not dating anyone.  After a few minutes of staring in their direction, the hostess snaps her fingers in front of my face to get my attention.  “Your order’s up,” she says with an attitude. 

Pulling a few bills from my wallet, I pay and leave the rest as a tip.  The way her lips turn up in a smile lets me know I gave her far too much, but like a train wreck, I’m having a hard time looking away from my ex-wife on a date with one of my brothers, and having dinner with his family to top off the stab to the gut. 

Not wanting to get caught and be accused of stalking, I storm out of Morelli’s and climb in my truck.  Punching the steering wheel, I can’t shake the sense of betrayal.  How the fuck dare she?  If she wanted to date someone else, that’s her business, but to bring it to the house
after
she made such a big deal about not wanting to date someone in the house, it’s a low blow.  And it hurts.  I finally know exactly how she felt the night at Lacy’s party when she saw me with that redhead.  I know how much it hurt her to see me with someone else.

Is this payback? 

Was I just a quick fuck for her?

“Can we just keep things casual …” her words echo in my head and it’s all falling into place.  She has to be playing Flynn and me against each other in a weird way—looking to see which one of us is better for her.  Who will treat her better.  Who she’ll love more.

“Fuck!” I scream, punching the dash again, unable to control my emotions.  If this were any other woman, it wouldn’t be an issue.  Hell, I went on a few dates with this girl last year and it didn’t work out.  When Jones took her out a few months later, it was no big deal.  Tina’s different.  She’s my fucking wife.  I had a life with her before she even knew Flynn.  Not to mention, he was a complete asshole the first time they met.  Is that what she’s interested in?  Douchebags?  Because I can be a douchebag if that’s what she wants. 

Apparently, more time than I care to admit goes by with me sitting in my truck.  Feeling like a dick for leaving the guys to fend for themselves in my house, I turn the key and check my blind spot to pull out of the parking lot when I catch Tina’s hair whipping through the wind.  Putting the gear shifter in park, I wait.  For what, I don’t know, but it seems like the only viable option.

She says her goodbyes to Flynn’s family, shaking hands with his father and genuinely hugging his mother.  Together, with Flynn’s arm around her shoulders and hers around his waist, they wave to the elderly couple and start walking through the parking lot.  Next to Tina’s car, Flynn pulls her into a hug, rocking her back and forth, saying something I can’t make out even after I roll down my window.  To top off the shit show I’m watching, he pushes a piece of hair behind her ear and kisses her on the cheek, his lips lingering a little too long.

Then she smiles at him with so much adoration.  I can feel my heart breaking as I sit here, unable to look away.  Flynn opens her car door and holds her hand as she slinks into the driver’s seat.  Shutting the door, he smiles at her again before walking away.  Everything in me wants to run him over, but as shady as he’s being right now, he’s still a damn good firefighter and the city needs as many of him as we can get.

When I can bring myself to leave—after Tina pulls out of the lot—I follow suit and drive the few miles to my house.  Stepping inside, the guys, more drunk than not, all but tackle me to get their hands on the now cold pizza.  Not saying anything about why I took so long, they take their slices, sit back on the couch and finish watching the game.  No longer in the mood for a guys’ night, I head upstairs and turn off the lights. 

They’re all used to my mood swings by now; they won’t say anything if I ditch them, and I can always brush it off as exhaustion from a long, busy shift.  Slipping out of my uncomfortable polyester pants and rank tee shirt, I crawl under the blankets wearing only a pair of boxers and close my eyes. 

Picking up my phone, prepared to let loose on Tina, I unlock the screen only to see a text waiting from her.

TINA:  What do u want for dinner tomorrow?

I want answers.  I want to know why you think it’s okay to fuck my brothers behind my back.  And I sure as fuck want to know why you think I’m going to be cool with you screwing me and someone else.  Casual sure, but tossing around her cat to anyone who’ll take it?  Get the fuck out of here.

TINA:  U there?

ME:  Not sure I can make it.  Something came up.

TINA:  Booooooooooooo

ME:  Yeah.  Sry.

She texts again, but instead of going around and around without actually saying what’s on my mind, I toss my phone on the floor where I’ll be far too lazy to get up to get it.  Rolling over and turning on the fan to drown out the sounds of cheering downstairs, I’m finally able to get comfortable enough to fall asleep.

*****

Waking up alone is something I’ve gotten used to over the last few years.  It’s not always the case—I’ve been no saint—but going to bed alone and opening my eyes to see thick brown hair on the pillow next to me worries me a little.  I drank a little, but not nearly enough to have woken up, gone out and picked up some imitation Tina.

Wait. 

“Tina?” I ask, gently shaking her shoulder.

“Hmmmmff,” she groans.  I stand up and walk around to the other side of the bed.  Staring down at her, I roll through my mind all the scenarios which could have brought her here and I come up blank every time.

“Tina!” I yell, her eyes fluttering open and narrowing in my direction.

“What’s your problem?” she asks, and I have half a mind to tell her exactly what’s up.

“What are ya doing here?”

“Well, I came by early to make you breakfast since you can’t do dinner, but you were still sleeping and Jones was passed out on the couch.  Instead of waking everyone, I laid down with you and started to read a book, but must have fallen asleep.  I forgot how comfortable this bed is.”  She sits up, still fully clothed except for the sneakers tossed haphazardly across the room.

“Oh,” I say, pulling a clean shirt over my head and shoving my aching legs through a pair of sweat pants.  “I’ve got some stuff to do this afternoon.  Want me to call you later?”

“You’re kicking me out?” she asks, offended.

“Sorry.  I told you something came up.  I’ve got some errands and stuff to run.”  I hate this.  I’m not one of those guys who tiptoes around feelings, especially anger, but I’m so disgusted in her behavior from the night before, I can’t bring myself to talk about it just yet.  I know I’ll say things I don’t mean and need to really think all of this through before I decide how to handle it.

“You want some company?”

“Nah, but thanks.”

“Alright then,” she whispers, grabbing her shoes and slipping her feet inside, looking dejected.  Damn her for putting me in this position.  I shouldn’t be feeling guilty.  I shouldn’t want to climb back in bed and hold her the rest of the day.  I shouldn’t want to kick Jones out so he doesn’t interfere with our day together.  I should be angry, but the longer it takes her to tie her laces, holding back tears, the more that anger fades away.

“Call me later?” she asks, shuffling to the other side of the bedroom and waiting at the top of the stairs for a response.

“Sure,” I simply state and turn away from her.

I wait until I hear the front door open and close before divesting the clothes I just put on only to get back in bed feeling every bit of the depression I fought after Tim.  Every ounce of loneliness I felt after Tina walked out of our marriage.  Taking some deep breaths, I force myself up again and into the shower downstairs. 

After all the therapy I went through to cope with everything, I know if there’s something I want, the only thing standing in my way is myself.  And Tina’s what I want.  She knows it and I know it.  Figuring out how to get Flynn out of the way so I can claim what’s mine is going to be the only way to fight the urge to slip back to the guy I was before.  I fought too fucking hard to let go now.

Dressing quickly, I wake Jones on my way out, letting him know he can hang out as long as he wants, but I’ll be out the rest of the day.  Getting in my truck, I adjust the rearview mirror to look at my own tired eyes, reassuring myself that if I want something I better fight tooth and nail for it.

Brother or not, I’ll fight Flynn for Tina.  And if he’s got any kind of sense, he won’t let her go easily.  I’m prepared and ready to win back my wife.

CHAPTER E
IGHTEEN

TINA

Walking out of Nick’s house might have been the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever had to do.  For someone who is hell bent on wanting to work out our issues and get things back on track, he doesn’t show it in the least.  Instead of going home to wallow in my own self-pity, I drive straight to Lacy’s.

“What now?” she asks, opening the front door.  Sometimes I wish I could just have a normal conversation with her without her already knowing something’s wrong.  Maybe if she didn’t live in the other half of my brain, we wouldn’t have these issues.  Then again, if we weren’t basically the same person, I probably wouldn’t love her as much.

“Nick,” I state, walking past her and flopping on the couch.  Kicking off my shoes, I put my feet on the coffee table and rest my head against the cushions.

“Coffee or booze?  It’s only eleven, but I can do either.  Carl’s picking up Dakota today, so I don’t have to worry about a DUI or anything.”

“Coffee with whiskey?  Does that work?”  Nodding her head, she walks into the kitchen and I try for the life of me to think of where Nick and I went wrong.  Was he offended?  Did he not want casual?  Was he expecting me to drop everything and move back into his house like nothing had happened?  Like the last two years didn’t exist and we’re the same happy couple we were before Tim died?

“Here ya go,” Lacy says, handing me a steaming mug of coffee a few minutes later.  Sipping cautiously, I let the whiskey alongside of the hot coffee burn its way down my throat and settle hard in my stomach.  Once I take a few more drinks, she asks the million dollar question.  “So … what happened?”

I run down the last few days, including the night of her engagement party, waiting for judgment that never comes.  By the time I get to this morning, she seems just as confused as me.  “There has to be more.  Why, all of a sudden, would he want something more and then blow you off? Nick’s not like that.  There has to be
something
,” she says, trying to help me piece together the puzzle.

“That’s where I’m stuck.  We left everything fine yesterday.  I knew he wasn’t happy about me not wanting to jump back in and keep things light for a while, but I didn’t think he’d be an ass to me today.  I know him.  Better than he knows himself, sometimes.  This isn’t like him.”

“What aren’t you telling me?  Give me all the details of everything that’s happened in the last week.  Maybe there’s something we’re overlooking.”

Debating whether or not to tell her about Flynn, I figure she’s the safest person to tell.  Lacy wouldn’t betray my trust for anything in the world, and if she suddenly decided to, I have more than enough on her to make her regret that decision.  If her parents knew she got her clit pierced when we were seventeen, just to impress a marine we met at the beach, they’d shit.  Even a decade later, they’d find a way to ground her.  That’s the greatest thing about best friends—all the dirt between you, all secrets will go to the grave.

Swearing her to secrecy, which she rolls her eyes at and agrees, I tell her about Flynn and our dinner the night before.  At first, I can see the shock on her face, then, as if she’s putting two and two together, her eyes light up and she nods.  “That makes a lot of sense, actually.  He’s the only one who hasn’t ever hit on me.  I just thought he didn’t want to step on Tim’s toes, but gay makes a lot more sense.”  Slapping her arm, I can’t help but giggle at her assessment, and even though it’s annoying, it’s fairly accurate.  Being the gorgeous woman she is, Lacy has guys falling at her feet, all except for Flynn.

“Do you think Flynn told any of the guys y’all were going on a date?  Seems logical that if he wants to pretend to his parents, he’d want to pretend to the house, too.  You know, keep everyone on the same page.”

“I get what you’re saying, but he would have given me a heads up or something.  And I think he might take more shit for dating an in-house paramedic than he would just not dating at all,” I retort.

The ringing in my pocket pulls me from my in-depth conversation with Lacy.  Pulling it from my back pocket, Flynn’s name flashes across the screen and Lacy’s hypothesis seems more and more real by the second.  If he’s calling to tell me he told all the guys he’s screwing me and caused even more hell between Nick and me, I’ll cut him.  With his own damn axe.

“Hello,” I answer, my voice skeptical.

“I’m gonna need you to come down here,” he responds, disregarding any pleasantries.

“For what?  I just came off two days.  If I don’t have to step foot in that house until tonight, I’m not coming unless it’s an emergency.”  These damn schedule changes with all the budget cuts have my body so screwed up, I can’t think straight.  If the city would just get their shit together and stop messing with my life and sleep schedule, things might be a lot easier.  This one on and one off new shift schedule is more frustrating than my strained relationship with Nick.

“Oh, it’s an emergency, alright.  Conrad’s here and he’s pretty pissed.  He thinks I’m on a grocery run, but I’m in the parking lot.  Garcia called me, said Nick was spouting some shit about me fucking his wife.  Care to explain?”

“Do
you
care to explain?  Did you tell any of them about last night?”

“No.  I didn’t tell anyone.  I would have at least called you first.  Fuck, Mitchell, you didn’t tell me you were Nick’s ex-wife.  We all knew he was pretty messed up over her, but for her to be
you
… you should have told me.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologize, feeling guilty about putting Flynn in the middle of our drama, but there’s nothing I can do about it right now.  “I’ll call Nick.  He’s not going to hurt you.”  Then I think about it and if Nick’s there on his morning off, he’s there for a purpose.  He just might lay Flynn out and then I’d feel even more guilty.  “Better yet, call the chief and tell him you need to go home, you’re not feeling well.  Get in your car and go home.  I’ll get this all cleared up.”

“I hope so, Mitchell.  Sometimes I work shifts with Conrad.  I don’t need to walk in there thinking the dude has my back only for him to let me burn alive.  I can’t say I’m not happy about everyone thinking I had enough balls to go after Nick’s ex.  Kinda worked out, right?”

“Shut up, Flynn.  Get your ass home before he kills you.”

Hanging up my phone, I sarcastically groan.  Huffing and puffing as I put my sneakers back on, I look at Lacy, who’s hiding a grin, and roll my eyes at her. 

“Looks like Nick found about your phony date with Flynn, huh?”

“Shut it, Lace.  Not another fucking word.  I’m in no mood and will punch you in the vag so fast you won’t know what’s coming.”

“If you wanna touch my cookie, all you have to do is ask, Tina.  No need to get so violent,” she jokes, and as much as I don’t want to laugh, I do. 

“I love you,” I say, standing and walking to the door.

“Love you most.  Glad I could help you figure this out.  Now, go get your man.”

“I’m gonna get him alright.  I might beat his ass, too.”

“So should I tell Carl I’m ready for another baby?” she asks and I cock my head to the side, unsure of where this is coming from.  “Oh, don’t act like we all don’t know what happens when Nick and Tina start fighting.  You’ll be pregnant before you know it.  You can’t get enough of each other when you’re pissed.”

“I’m not going to fuck him, Lacy.  I might fuck him up, but that’s about it.”

“Stop fighting him, huh?” she says, her face turning serious.  “He’s made a lot of progress.  We all kind of lost it after Tim died and we’re just starting to get back on our feet.  Give him a little credit.  Please.”

“I’ll think about it.” 

Storming out the door, I run to my car and speed down the road to the firehouse.  The second I pull into the lot, Nick’s large stature’s standing over Flynn, not allowing him to get into his car.  Hitting the accelerator, I almost hit Nick as I screech to a halt a few feet from the men.

“What the hell, Nick?” Stepping out of my car, I try to squeeze between them, neither one willing to back down, to defuse the situation. 

“Not now, Christina.  Get back in your car,” Nick seethes, not taking his stare off of Flynn.

“I thought I told you to go home,” I say to Flynn whose eyes are pleading with me for help.

“I tried.  Your crazy fucking husband won’t let me in my car,” he responds to me, turning back to Nick.  “I told you, dude.  I didn’t fuck her.  She’s beautiful, but not my type, I swear.” 

“You’re not helping your case, Flynn,” Nick says, his voice calm and that’s never a good thing.  Just like in the middle of a hurricane, there’s a calm before the storm, and that’s what’s going on right now.  Nick’s about ready to unleash.

“Dammit, Nick.  I’m getting the chief!” I yell, turning on my heel, fully prepared to bring Max into this if Nick’s hell bent on getting suspended, or worse.

My footsteps quicken as the loud pounding of boots comes up behind me, crunching gravel in their wake.  “Don’t take another fucking step, Christina.” 

Coming to a halt, I don’t turn to face him, but wait for him to put me in my place long enough for Flynn to get in his car and leave the lot.  Cursing under my breath when tires squeal on the pavement, knowing I’m alone with Nick, I wait for him to redirect his anger toward me instead of the innocent man who almost received it moments ago.

When he says nothing, it hurts more than if he laid into me.  I feel like I’ve been waiting for hours, when in all actuality it’s only been a few minutes.  Nick’s breathing evens and instead of having a conversation or bitch session, he steps around me and walks into the firehouse.  Walking back to my car, I grab my bag and head inside as well, bypassing the mess hall where I’m sure everyone inside was privy to the earlier altercation. 

Not wanting to answer any questions, I ignore the chief’s inquisitive glare.  Since I have about an hour until my shift, I take my stuff straight to the private bathroom and run a shower since I didn’t get one earlier.  After letting the water wash away some of my frustration, I dress quickly and sit on my bunk.

Jones is on his bed and doesn’t say anything.  He nods his head, almost in solidarity, and goes back to reading whatever book he’s working on this shift.  Slowly, the rest of my shift comes into the house and the others leave until tomorrow. 

One hour turns into two and I can’t continue to hide in the barracks.  I’m tempted to comment on the slow night just to jinx it, or at least ask Frankie if she wants to drive around instead of sitting inside.  Nick’s not come to see me or talk about anything, which has me worried. 

I want to tell him, let him know that I’m not sleeping, or even really dating Flynn, but there’s not much I can do without letting the cat out of the bag.  It’s not my truth to tell and the more I think about it, the more I get pissed at Flynn for putting me in this position.  The only explanation is he told someone, or Nick saw us at dinner with Flynn’s parents. 

If that’s the case, I can’t blame Nick.  I put on a show for them, giving them every reason to think I was in love with their son.  I did everything I was asked to do.  They bought it and Flynn won’t have to worry for at least a few months about his parents questioning him.  But where does that leave me?

Sitting alone in my bunk, I impatiently wait for someone to be hurt or sick enough to need a paramedic.  How fucked up is that?  My job’s to save people, not wish harm to them just to avoid the uncomfortable silence.

Well, it was silent until my stomach started growling.  Remembering the only thing I’ve had all day was some spiked coffee, I push off the bed, grabbing my jacket in the process, just in case Frankie wants to get out of the house, and walk into the mess hall.

None of the guys say anything, but their questioning stares lead me to believe they want to, they just don’t know what to say.  I almost prefer it from them.  The only person I want to talk to, anyway, is nowhere to be found.  I wonder if he had the chief send him home for the night after his outburst.  Trying to ignore everything around me, I grab a banana and start to walk back to the bunks to spend the rest of my night wallowing until I can get out of here.

On my way down the hall, a strong hand takes hold of my arm and pulls me into the supply closet, scaring me so badly, I drop my banana in the hallway.  When the door slams behind me, Nick’s cold glare catches me off guard and I back away from him.  I’m not nervous he’ll hurt me, but he’s got a look in his eye that tells me he’s more than pissed.

He’s hurt.  And it’s all my fault. 

I want to console him.  I do.  And I know, more than I’m willing to admit, that the minute I do, the wall I’ve carefully constructed around my heart will tumble and everything I’ve feared about going back to the way we were will be real. 

I’ll be his for the taking.  And even worse, he’ll know it.  I’ll have no defense and I know Nicholas Conrad enough to know that once he sees his opening, he’s going in and he’s going to go in hard.  Taking no prisoners in his wake.

Here goes nothing.