Page 27 of Trial By Fire
I nod at the instructions, having already read them for myself while Kace signed himself out of the hospital. Taking a breath, I brace my feet and hold out my hands again to help him up. "Let's do this then."
I get him to his good foot and somehow manage to balance him enough so that he can sidle sideways onto the stool I'd placed in the tub. It's an awkward dance of huffs and groans and muttered curses from Kace, but finally he's sitting on the stool with his broken leg extended along the side of the tub.
I remind myself this won't be as difficult once we get the right equipment in here, but for now, we make do.
While he rests and catches his breath, I wrap the cast in one of the protective sleeves sent home by the hospital and then add a garbage bag on top of that as that extra measure. Now is the moment of truth.
I grab a towel and avoid his gaze as I unfold and drape it over his hips. "Okay, time to shimmy those shorts off like a stripper, big guy."
My sad attempt at humor lands and draws a gruff laugh from him. His gaze sparkles with warmth, and he winks at me before shifting onto one hip and using his good hand to shove his shorts down beneath the towel. It takes a while since he has to shift from side to side, but he manages and then holds the towel in place while I drag the shorts over the plastic covered cast.
We both breathe a sigh of relief when it's over.
"Well, that's one way to break the ice," he mutters.
"Kind of like racing through your hospital room to hurl my guts out while the girls announce my pregnancy?"
He chuckles, and I avoid looking at him while I busy myself with getting the soap and a washcloth set nearby and moving them within reach. "How about I wash your back and leave you to the rest?"
"You'll get wet."
"I won't melt." I soak the cloth and add soap and move behind him. The shower spray mists the air but is aimed at his good leg, so I'm out of the direct spray with his body a buffer between. I avoid looking anywhere but his back and gently wash his good shoulder and spine, easing the pressure when I approach the burns trailing over his shoulder and neck. The ones on his back aren't as severe as the front, but I lightly wash them, all the while reminding myself that doing so will help him heal to counter my own flinches in response to his.
I don't linger on the task. I get the sense that this shower is more of an emotional need than physical. Since his accident, I doubt Kace has been alone long enough to process his injuries, and if he's anything like me, showers and baths are my refuge when things get rough and I need some time alone to refocus myself. Away from prying eyes.
Like those of his girls. His friends. His chief.
His back washed and rinsed, I leave the cloth on the tub by his hand and move toward the door. "Just yell when you're ready."
He's quiet, and his haunted expression isn't one I've seen on him since meeting him, making me think my suspicions are correct on him needing space to process things.
I close the door softly behind me and lean against the paneled wood, barely able to make out the muttered curse from the other side ringing with frustration and pain and a quiet desperation he's hidden until now.
I can only imagine what he's feeling, but at the same time, I understand it.
Kace isn't the only one haunted by the future. And it makes me wonder what I can say or do to help him cope when I'm struggling so hard to see a future for myself.
Chapter
Twelve
Kace
Once the door closes with a quiet thud, I'm finally alone. I exhale and feel myself melt into the towel-covered stool where I sit. I'm medicated just enough to ease the worst of the pain, but nothing removes the vise squeezing my lungs or the fact I'm so hyperaware of my injuries. Of what they cost me. Of what they'll cost the girls next time if luck doesn't break my way.
I let the lukewarm water pound me without moving. I'd rather it be hotter but know I can't up the temp due to the burns. So I sit here, and I stare at the way the water rolls down the drain, and I try to breathe through the pain and the onslaught of images.
Sully's question about returning to work, though? That had tipped me over the edge into the dark places of my mind.
I go over every moment of that day. From telling Gabe I knew the layout of the building to hearing his order to exit when I spotted the firefighter caught up by his gear. I remember a split second of hesitation and survival instinct, because the flames were moving fast. The urge to get out. No matter what. Then ignoring it and going to help get him loose.
I remember… I remember seeing the ceiling break. Knowing it was about to come down and shoving the other man forward because I knew there wasn't time for both of us to get out of the way.
My breathing turns ragged as I sit and roll through those memories. The surge of fear as I go down. The pain. The smell. The—the knowing and awareness that death danced around me, ready to take me.
I run a hand over my face and try to shove the memories aside. Ground myself in the here and now.
I made it out.
