Jonah's Return (Detroit Heat Book 3) (4 page)

“I dated one woman.”

I snapped out of my haze and stared at him.
 
His statement made no sense to me.

What the hell was I supposed to respond with?
 
“That’s great, Jonah.
 
That’s just great.”
 
I cocked an eyebrow and turned back to my screen.
 
I wanted to look to see if my comments hurt him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“I dated one woman in two years.”

“What are you talking about?”
 

Jonah had the look of a guilty child.
 
“After we broke up.
 
I only dated one other woman.
 
Her name was Candice.”

“Jonah, why are you telling me this?”
 

He shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know.
 
I just had to tell you.
 
We only dated for a few months last year, but it was just crap. I guess I expected something great, and it was not.
 
Everything we did, everything
she
did made me think of you.
 
I didn’t drag it out, either.
 
I know you were thinking that.”

I smiled.
 
It was a sad one, but he did make me smile.
 
Jonah was great at reading my mind, and I was surprised to find out that even after two long years, he could still read me like a favorite book.

Leaning back in my chair I sighed.
 
This was not the day I had intended on having.
 
It wasn’t as bad as it could have been.
 
Good or bad, I didn’t know, but it was definitely interesting.
 

“I’ve dated a few guys.
 
Nothing serious, though.
 
I guess I’d say it was pretty similar for me, too.
 
It was never very exciting.
 
And don’t worry, none of them were smoke-eaters.” I winked at him.

I don’t know why I had done that.
 
I knew I was flirting with Jonah, and I knew nothing good would come from it.
 
Even still, it
was
fun.

Jonah smiled, and I saw the sadness disappear. “Yeah, like that’s what I was thinking.”
 
It’s
exactly
what he was thinking.

“Sorry.”
 
I went back to pecking out numerical codes into the computer.

“What are you sorry for?” Jonah was getting more comfortable; he leaned back in the chair and put a foot up on my desk. I didn’t mind.

I shook my head a little. “I don’t know. I’m just being silly.” No form I’d ever filled out had taken this long.

Jonah smiled, “I always liked you when you were silly. Made me forget all the bad shit.”

“I liked doing that for you. Jonah, you were a great fire fighter. Do you really want to make this your life? I like what I do, but I also deal with a lot of regret. I just… I just want you to be sure.” It was remarkable how quickly I was caring for him again. It was no different than doing his laundry or packing our lunches for the day.

The few guys that I dated after Jonah made it clear that he and I had shared something special, only making it more painful. Things with Jonah had been easy. Not to say we didn’t have our issues, but he and I had a good way of working through things. It made me feel like there was no problem we couldn’t tackle, except the one.
 

Jonah nodded as the smile disappeared. “I’m sure. I still want to serve the department in some way, but I just can’t be out there anymore. It’s too hard watching friends get hurt or worse.”

A little something sparked inside me, “You think we don’t feel it here because were safe inside these four walls? We hear about the deaths and accidents. Unlike you guys, though, we don’t have much to distract us. We don’t move on to the next fire. The spirits of the men we lose hang around here like dust over everything.” God, things had gotten morbid fast.
 

“Sorry, Jonah. It’s just… It’s just that things don’t really fade away for me.” I didn’t know if I was talking about work or our relationship. I guess there wasn’t much difference between the two, anyway.

He sat upright, again. For a while neither of us spoke; neither of us did anything but stare into the past.

Jonah was picking at the corner of my nameplate with no particular focus. It was a small accompaniment to the large silence filling the room. When he looked back up at me, I saw that the sadness had returned.
 

Jonah said, “I seem to remember that we used to do that for each other.”

“Used to do what?”

“We used to help each other fade away, or make the bad shit fade away. Sometimes on shift I’d had a bad day, and you were there to help. Other days it was the other way around. We were really similar, but strong in different ways. I don’t know, it just worked.”

I nodded, returning his sad smile. “Yeah, it did. It worked right up until it didn’t.”

My heart hadn’t slowed from double time since Jonah had walked into my office. We were riding a roller coaster in pitch black; I had no idea where the conversation was headed. My head was churning with thoughts. I didn’t know where to start. Every time I started reading into something he said, we’d make an abrupt turn, and I was lost again.

“Yeah.” Jonas voice sounded far away. “That’s another reason I’m leaving Engine 37.”

Confusion. Complete confusion. This wasn’t just another turn; it was a damn 180.

“Jonah, what are you talking about?” My screen went black, letting me know that we’d spent ten minutes dancing around our emotions. One question was front and center in my mind: what was Jonah’s game plan?

His eyebrows rose, and Jonah let out a sigh that turned to a laugh. “It took two years, but I can’t stand them anymore. I can’t stand them after what they did to you. What they did to us, I guess.” I had no idea what to say, so there was another few moments of silence before Jonah spoke again. “One of us should’ve transferred to another station. You were a good fire fighter; too good to be behind a desk. Too good to...”

I was getting exasperated. I was on the edge of my seat and completely lost. “Too good to what, Jonah?” I don’t remember it being so hard to pry emotions from him.

“Jesus, Abbey. Too good to get away. You were the best goddamn thing ever. I know that. I tell myself that every day. You’re the one I think about when we go on a run. You’re the one on my mind when I pack up. The last two years have felt like…shit, they haven’t felt like anything.”

Jonah stood up, and my eyes followed him. I couldn’t take them off of him.

“I’ve wanted to get you back a million times. I’ve come this close, but I knew it couldn’t happen. Not because I fucked up – I hope anyway. It was because of the job. I wouldn’t even let myself think of trying to get you back as long as I was at Engine 37. It ruined us. I didn’t help any, but it ruined us. This was the only thing I could do.”

The roller coaster had hit a series of bumps, and it was derailing before me in slow motion. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe, my heart was the only thing working, and it was working overtime. Jonah turned and reached for the door that led to the hallway.

When I spoke, my voice was church quiet, “What was the only thing?”

He turned back to me, “It was Engine 37 or you. I’m sorry it took me so damn long to figure that out. I choose you. I choose you over the job, over the brotherhood, over the rush. It’s not the same without you, so what’s the point?”

I felt weightless. I wrapped my legs around the chair in case I began to float away. Jonah was watching me for a reaction, but I didn’t think it was possible. I didn’t know if
action
was possible. He turned the knob and opened the door with the frosted glass window. For a moment he didn’t move. I knew he was giving me one last chance to give him an answer.

Looking down, I saw his transfer request form. Engine 37 or me. Engine 37 or transfer. Jonah had made his case, and he had left the rest up to me. The transfer form could disappear without anybody knowing it, and everything go back to the way it was.
 
Even on the computer, the form had two buttons at the bottom:
Submit
or
Reset Form
.

He turned away and took a step into the hall. My body screamed into action.

“I don’t want to go back to the way it was!”

Jonah froze.

Every bit of my being that had been frozen was on fire.
 
Question after question after question ran through my head. None of them had answers. Would the two of us working together be any different than last time? Would leaving the front lines get to him over time? Would we even work out in the long run? No answers. I had no answers, but I was still standing. I had no answers, but I was still moving from behind my desk.

I had no answers, but I pulled Jonah’s hand from the doorknob.

His gray eyes. Damn his gray eyes. Beautiful and convincing, just like the rest of him.

Tugging on his arm, I let him back to the chair across from my desk. “Damn you, Jonah. Looks like you’re not going anywhere.” I gave the doors a shove and let it close on its own. “Let’s finish this transfer form, and you and I have some serious talking to do.”

He smiled, and all the bad washed away.

What now?
 
I asked myself the same question over and over, again.
 
I sat in a coffee shop, and when I took a sip of my cold latte, it hit me that I’d been asking myself that question for quite a while.
 
I drained the last of the coffee and looked around.

Abbey worked until five, which meant I had about six hours to kill.
 
I had six hours to get my shit together.
 
I hadn’t done it in two years, so why did I think six hours would be enough?

In her office, I had felt such conviction.
 
In the coffee shop, all I felt was terror.
 
I wasn’t afraid of Abbey.
 
I was afraid of myself.
 
I remembered what I had been like before and after the two of us split up.
 
Things had been hard but great before.
 
After?
 
After, I had just acted like a complete asshole to her.
 
It’s a wonder she didn’t throw me out the second that I sat down.

I never even expected her to hear me out, and now we were going to meet after work.
 
I was not prepared.
 
I needed to get my apology in order.
 
No, an apology wouldn’t mean shit to Abbey.
 
I owed her two years of life.
 
That was closer to the truth.
 
I owed her two years of good memories and happy times.
 

She was right when she said she didn’t want to go back to the way that it was.
 
There was no going back.
 
If we had a future, there would be scars.
 
An apology would be like trying to pretend that a scar didn’t exist.
 
I wasn’t looking to put the scars on display, just learn to live with them until we forgot they were even there.

So if I don’t need to apologize, what do I need to do?
 
I was unprepared.
 
I checked my watch.
 
Five and a half hours.
 
I didn’t know if a lifetime would be enough to get prepared.

I could almost hear Abby’s voice inside my head, “
No one is ever prepared.
”
 
Two years was long enough.
 
I didn’t know what the hell I was going to say to her, but I had to try.
 
It’s just like the fire service.
 
We train and we study and we are still never prepared.
 
I was beginning to think that love might be the same way.

Two very drawn out cups of coffee later, and Abbey would be by any second.
 
I was no closer to a grand speech or grand plan.
 
My heart would jump every time I saw someone walking by the windows.
 
Just one sit-down with Abbey, and all the old memories and good times were returning in force.
 
I knew there was a hard road ahead, but I wanted it.