The Firefighter's New Family

Ashley closed her eyes, willing away the ache in her arms. She’d hoisted Joey so many times, but lifting her own weight on crutches brought about a whole different challenge. She caught herself more than once forgetting to keep the weight off her left leg.

“One more time.”

The therapist’s command struck her again, and she wanted to rebel at his insistence even though she knew the therapy was good for her. When she could walk with the crutches, she could go home.

Home. She’d missed her place so much. She’d survived Adam’s death. This setback should have been nothing more than a bump in her life. Instead, she’d allowed it to become a dunghill.

Shame swept over her. Strength. Courage. Faith. Those attributes had been her stronghold. Where were they now?

“Ashley. If you want to go home, you—”

“I know. If I want to go home, I have to maneuver stairs. I know. I know.” The tone of her voice sickened her.

“Good. So maneuver them.”

His cocky comment grated on her patience, but his job consisted of being firm, being supportive and teaching her to walk with crutches. He’d tried firm and supportive. All she’d left for him to use was sarcasm.

She lowered her forehead to her forearm and brushed the perspiration away from her eyes. The stairs took effort and balance. She could do it.

One step at a time, Ashley made her way to the top and back down the other side. “There. How’s that?”

“Good. Take a minute and then do it again.” His eyes captured hers, and her frustration subsided.

Compassion. The emotion slipped through her, and she wished she’d not taken her defeated feeling out on him. Without another comment, she moved forward, working her way up and down each step, one at a time.

“Good job.” He gave her shoulder a pat. “You’re finished for today. In fact, I think you could go home tomorrow.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

“Your surgeon makes the final decision, but I’ll recommend it. I think you’re ready.”

After four days she was ready. Tomorrow seemed a lifetime, but her gratefulness swelled. “Thank you, and I’m sorry for—”

He put his thick finger to his lips. “Shh. No apologies. I’ve heard much worse. I’ve been called names, hit with a crutch—”

“I hope you’re kidding.”

“Nope. Fact.” He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Ashley, be patient with yourself. It won’t be easy, and I know you have a toddler at home who you need to care for. Just be careful. No fast moves. Ask for help when you need it, and allow people to be there for you.”

He knew her better than she realized. “I’ll remember.”

She slipped into the wheelchair, and he gave her an agreeable nod before turning to his next patient. While she waited for an escort to take her to her room, she reviewed what he’d said. Her family had been at her beck and call for so long. They adored Joey, and Adam’s death had cut off a slice of their lives, too, but she did find it difficult to ask for help sometimes. Even Devon, her firefighter hero, had stepped into her life, and though she enjoyed talking to him, her discomfort grew, feeling the old guilt as if she shouldn’t enjoy another man’s company.

“Ready?”

Her head jerked upward, hearing the escort. She managed a smile, and he turned her around and wheeled her back to her room.

Once in bed, she had him prop her pillows so she could sit up and come alive. Her leg ached. Her arms ached. Her head ached. A pill could resolve those issues, but her other problems, ones she didn’t understand, couldn’t be settled with a pill. She closed her eyes, and Joey filled her mind. He missed her, and she missed him. Terribly. Neely’s visit came with stories of his antics. Her father visited and relayed the cute things Joey did when they spent time together. Though she loved hearing their stories, they brought envy. No one should have fun with her son unless she was there to enjoy it.

Foolish, but that was how her mind worked most days.

One other person permeated her quiet moments. Devon. Despite her confusion with guilt and loneliness, she had been unable to control the longing she felt to see him again. Four days had passed with no word from him. Though it made no sense, she felt abandoned. He’d spent the day of her accident waiting in the hospital to make sure she would be okay. He cared for Joey while Neely visited and stuck around to talk with her. That was it.

What did she expect? The answer evaded her. When possibilities slipped into her mind, she chased them away. Getting involved with anyone again—anyone of the opposite sex—would take preparation and contemplation. She’d been duped by her former boyfriend and never wanted that to happen again.

Devon’s image drove Erik from her thoughts. The firefighter had been a concerned neighbor. A gentleman with every meaning of the word. Thinking about a man who had become her hero was senseless, especially a man whose career had “no involvement” written all over it.

She eyed the wall clock. Time for lunch, then one more night in the hospital. Devon’s image faded, replaced by her sweet son’s face. The image made her grin. Tomorrow. She’d be home.

* * *

Devon surveyed the oncoming crew standing around the firehouse apparatus room. “I think that’s it. After the last storm, I know we were grateful for the calm evening last night other than Mrs. Benson’s falling over her dog again.” He grinned. Everyone knew the sweet but lonely lady used every excuse in the book to call firefighters to her home for a few minutes of conversation. The call also meant playing with her dog. She and the mutt loved the attention. “Any questions?”

No one responded except for a couple of murmured comments about dear Mrs. Benson and her dog. He stifled a yawn. “Okay, then. Time for you to work and for us to go home.” He grinned, and when he spun around, he rammed into Clint Donatelli. “Sorry, pal. My radar’s out of whack.” He grinned, too tired to make sense.

“My fault.” Clint gave him a pat on the back. “Where you headed in such a hurry?”

“To bed.” Devon rubbed his eyes with his knuckle. “But I can only sleep a few hours. I’m picking up Kaylee from preschool this afternoon.” He eyed his uniform. “I need to change and be on my way. I thought I’d stop at the hosp—” Why had he said that aloud? He didn’t need questions.

A frown shot to Clint’s face “Is it your mom? I hope she’s not ill.”

“No, Mom’s fine. It’s the... Just a friend.” He squirmed at Clint’s telling expression, one eye squinting, the other boosting a raised eyebrow.

“Hmm? Could it be a visit with the young woman who was trapped under that tree.” Clint’s squint segued to a wink.

Devon shrugged. “Okay. Yes. She’s a neighbor, and I—”

“If I remember, an attractive neighbor enthralled by the brave firefighter who—”

Devon gave him a poke. “Ever hear of compassion? The woman’s stuck in the hospital, missing her three-year-old son who’s staying with relatives and probably confused.”

Clint wrapped his arm around Devon’s shoulders and gave them a shake. “Just razzing you, Dev. You know me, an old man who wished he had someone to go home to.”

An unwanted ache slithered through Devon’s mind. He’d had similar thoughts more than he wanted to admit. He let Clint’s comment slide. “You’re not old.” Clint was a few years older than his own thirty-three years. “You’re seasoned.”

“My hair is for sure. Salt and pepper.” Clint flashed a grin and ran his fingers through his thick, wavy hair.

Devon gave him a nod. “Salt and pepper looks good on you. But you’re right, Clint. I’m afraid the stress is too much for some wives. I have membership in the club no one wants to belong to—divorced men.” After the words slipped out, he wished he could take them back.

“Right, and a club where you paid your dues. But at least you had a wife once. She accepted your work enough to marry you.”

The comment reminded him of Clint’s fiancée walking out on him. “That was a bad situation for you, and I really don’t understand why she waited so long to decide she couldn’t handle your profession.”

“I never understood it either, so I decided no wife is better than being walked out on.”

The unintentional blow struck Devon.

“Hey, pal, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that about you.” Clint rested his hand on Devon’s shoulder. “Anyway, you have a bonus from your marriage. The joy of being a father.”