It felt like he’d punched me in the gut. And then he continued piling it on.
“What if something happened to you? If someone went after you? How could you protect yourself? How would you get away?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
“Baby—”
Hell no. He wasn’t calling me baby in that condescending tone. “I’ll get the bandages.” It wasn’t the comeback I should have said, but I just needed to get away from him.
“Where are they? I’ll get them.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll try not to get hurt on my way.”
“Juls…”
What the hell was happening? I hurried down the hall, blinking back tears, then stared unseeing at the first aid kit in the linen closet. He couldn’t really think that about me. If he really and truly did…well, we were over.
I had to prove to him I was strong and capable. And that started with being strong enough to handle his doubts without falling apart. To face whatever the hell this was head on. I grabbed the box of bandages and marched back to the kitchen.
“Here,” I said, calmly handing him the box despite feeling anything but calm.
He set it down on the counter and without meeting my eyes, as carefully as if he was performing surgery, he removed the bloody paper towel, pushed the skin closed and appliedthree bandages, which was at least one more than I would have put on. He examined his work, and when it apparently passed inspection, he pulled me in close and kissed the tip of my thumb, a safe distance from the injury. He tucked my hand carefully between us, wrapped both arms around me, and sighed into my hair. “I’m sorry, Juls.”
“Let’s go sit.” I led him to the couch and pushed him into the corner, hesitating before following him down to curl up next to him. I peered up at him from where my cheek was pressed against his pounding heart. This was my chance to prove to him—to both of us—that I was strong. I didn’t get hurt that easily. Not physically, and not emotionally either. “You know it wasn’t that bad, right?”
“I know.”
“So what’s really going on?”
He ran his hand over my hair, catching a few curls and twirling them around his fingers, lost in his thoughts.
“I had a nightmare last night.”
The vulnerability in his voice melted all my anger. “Tell me about it?”
“It started with the girl that was shot—Gianna. She was calling my name and reaching for me, and I tried to run to her but I couldn’t get through. All these firefighters and cops were in my way and holding me back. I tried to push through them, but they grabbed at my arms and legs. I yelled at them and they yelled at me and she yelled for me, and it was like no one else knew I needed to get to her. Only me. And I couldn’t save her. I’ve had that same nightmare before. Usually, next, she looks me straight in the eyes and screams my name and then her head explodes. But last night...”
I soothed my hand up and down his side and pressed a kiss over his racing heart. “What happened?”
He tightened his arms around me, squeezing so hard it almost hurt. “It was you,” he choked out. “It was her, and then she turned into you. And I couldn’t get to you, Juls. I couldn’t save you.”
“I’m right here. I’m alright”
“I’m sorry for being a jerk today.”
“It’s okay.”
He chuckled, self-deprecating and sad. “Not even going to try to tell me I wasn’t?”
“Nope. You were. But I’ll forgive you.”
He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, his lips lingering on me.
“Have I ever told you about my battalion chief? Chief Pratt?”
I shook my head, making him tug on my hair in the most delicious way.
“Chief Pratt is an asshole. As battalion chief, he oversees us and three other stations. Luckily we’re the farthest station from him, and he’s also lazy, so he’s not around often, but when he is, he’s a bully. He stopped by this morning.”