The laughter and silliness settles as he continues. “Anyway, his brother worked the pile until he could find his body. After a week and a half of searching, they found it. It was sobering to hear him say that they were a lucky family. The fact that they recovered his body made them feel like they were one of the lucky ones.” His voice changes, taking on a quality akin to awe and gratitude. Running his hand through his hair and over his face brings him back to the end of his story. “Michael,” he explains. “That’s the brother’s name. He had to retire a few years after the attacks. The guy rides his bike hundreds of miles a week, but his lungs got all jacked-up from the debris.” Something a lot like anger touches his words and my heart bleeds for him. “They always stop down to the squad, too. That’s how I first met them. His name was David, too.”
Willing the lump in my throat to go away, I simply nod, allowing his words to permeate my silence. “One year, when the crowd was particularly light because of some nasty rain, I asked the mom why they still came in. Her response has stuck with me ever since and it’s the reason why, even when I’m not working, I’ll always be at Ground Zero on 9/11.”
“What did she say?” I ask, captivated by his story and this family.
His lips, so soft and full, spread across his face in a warm smile. “Her words were so simple, I’ll never forget them. She said ‘If I stop coming, one day there won’t be anyone left who’ll remember my son.’ Something in that sentiment changed me.”
The tears I had been holding back since he first started speaking fill my eyes, spilling down my cheeks. Swiping them away with his thumbs, he smiles at me, just a small, sweet smile. The one reserved only for me. “So I promised her that as long as I was alive, I would be at the memorial to remember her son.”
“David,” I choke on his name. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he deflects my adoration over what he considers a small tribute. When he pulls me into his arms, I feel safe and whole. Above all else, I feel so incredibly lucky that he loves me. This man, whose heart is made of gold has made room in his life for me. “It’s just how things are. If it were me, I’d want someone to remember me like that.”
If it were me.
The tears he only just wiped away return in earnest. Accompanied by soft sobs, I let my words spill out, taking on a life of their own. “That’s what I’m struggling with, trying so damn hard to get past. You getting hurt. You being taken away from me. What if it were you?”
“Shh.” He calms me. “It’s only natural to worry.” Cupping my face in his hands, he looks at me with love in his eyes. “I wish I could tell you that you’re worrying about nothing. That I’ll always be safe and no harm will ever come my way, but we both know I can’t promise that. Even if I wasn’t a firefighter, there’s no way for me to guarantee I’ll always be safe. That’s just how life goes.” Nodding, I see the truth in his words. But understanding what he’s saying with my head and feeling good about it in my heart are two different things entirely.
Recognizing my struggle, he pushes the hair out of my eyes and presses a sweet kiss to my lips. “What I can promise you, is that however many days I have left, I’ll spend them loving you.”
Sealing his lips over mine, there’s more than a simple promise passing between us. It’s enough to settle my nerves—at least a little bit. Leaning his forehead against mine, he smiles at me, making sure I’m okay. When he sees I am, he smiles even bigger. “So,” he drags out the word a little, “about that ‘me getting inside you’ business you were talking about before? Is that still on the table?”
A subtle nod and soft chuckle is all I have time to respond with before he sweeps me up in his arms and races us down to my bedroom.
Blinking away the persistent early morning light that’s determined to break its way through my blackout curtains, I hit the snooze button once more. Thank God, for first period studyhalls.
Before the hellish sound of my alarm clock goes off once more, I manage to pull myself out from under the covers. Stretching my arm to the side, the spot where David should be is warm but empty. The muffled sounds of the shower filter into my room. Getting up early has its advantages sometimes.
Not even bothering to knock, I step into the small, steam-filled room. Stripping out of my pajamas with more speed than any human should have at five in the morning, I can’t wait to be on the other side of that curtain.
Pausing for a second before pulling back the fabric separating us, I hear David mumbling something on the other side. It’s tough to make it out exactly, what with the water running and it being five o’clock and all. Before I make any sense of the conversation he’s having with himself, he grunts in frustration, cursing himself and his stupidity.
“Hey now.” Opening the curtain, I interrupt his grumblings. I’m met with a gasp of shock that quickly morphs into appreciation for me being in front of him. His admiration is paid back in spades as my eyes roam all over his soapy, wet body. With his back to the shower head, the water flows over his shoulders. The hard planes of his chest and bulging muscles of his arms are covered in soap, but every thought running through my head is anything but clean. Stepping under the water, I run my hands over his pecs and stretch up on my toes to place a good morning kiss on his wet lips. “I’m the only one who gets to talk about you that way. And I usually reserve words like that for when you aren’t around.”
“What are you doing in here?” Looping his arms around my waist, he pulls us both under the hot spray.
I may not be a fan of mornings, but apparently my sense of humor doesn’t suffer for it. “Well, let’s see. I’m naked.” To entice him a little more, I run my hands over the curves of my body, down my waist, hips and then back up to cup the round undersides of my breasts.
“I see that.” He groans, pressing the evidence of his arousal against my stomach.
“And there’s water,” I continue as if his body isn’t reacting at all to my presence. “And soap.” Reaching around him, I make sure to press my breasts into his body while grazing my hand across his hardening length. Accidentally, of course. Working the soap I drizzled into my hands up into a lather, I rub the bubbles over my body, loving that it makes him even harder. “So it looks as if I’m showering,” I continue with my little joke, trying my best to ignore his growing reaction.
Grabbing my ass in his hands, he squeezes each cheek and pulls me hard against him. Groaning, he presses his lips to my ear. Sucking my earlobe between his teeth, he tangles his hand into my hair, pulling my neck to the side. “Very funny, sweetheart.” Pretending to chide me, he licks at my neck, the heat of his mouth rivaling the heat of the shower. My knees wobble as a sigh of pleasure falls from my lips. “Now let me tell you what you’re really doing in here.” Dominance and love mingle in his words. Turning me around, he holds my wrists in one of his hands at my lower back. “None of this wise-ass ‘I was just taking a shower, fancy meeting you here’ garbage.”