Page 24 of Love Again

I’m turning off the heat under the pan when he comes out in pajama bottoms and a tank top, a white towel draped over his shoulders.

For the first time, I see his body. He’s dropped at least twenty pounds. The dark circles under his eyes haven’t washed away either, and I flash to how he needed Keller’s firm grip on his shoulder.

“Are you going already?” He’s looking at the re-wrapped sandwich and my, no doubt, stricken face.

“I just don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Because I kissed you.”

I correct him. “Because we kissed.”

“I want to kiss you again.”

My crotch wells with sudden heat and floods. I shift my weight. “Luke, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything then.” And the man who used to pry thoughts from my head walks around the end of the counter.

I’m always so strong in everything I do.

Except in this.

I’ve only slept with one man, and he’s standing in front of me. Slightly damp. Smelling like mint soap. Suddenly he sucks in his breath and sits down on a kitchen chair. Hard. He leans back and closes his eyes for a moment.

A fine sheen of sweat covers his upper lip.

“What’s going on with you?” I say, setting the sandwich down.

His eyes are hazel: green, blue, and gray. And for the first time, I let myself look for something in them. An answer, I guess, but I don’t know the question.

“I’m fine,” he says. “It’s been a few months since I’ve been in a fire situation.” He sighs and stands, and then everything happens so fast I don’t have time to think.

Luke, my Luke, pitches forward. I catch him, and he sags in my arms. Although he dropped weight since I’ve seen him, he’s still six-three and I’m five-four, and he weighs a lot. His heart flutters and stops, beating hard and then softer against my chest. I can feel it through his thin undershirt.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, weaving slightly on his legs. He puts a heavy hand on my shoulder for leverage and then leans against me again. Licking his lips, he sits back down in the chair.

“I got really lightheaded there. Sorry,” he repeats. The pulse beating in his neck is irregular. He wipes his face. His stubble stands out against the pallor of his skin.

He’s sick.

This is why Keller wanted me to stay with him. He knew his brother might need help.

I set the plate of food on the table and pour tomato soup into two mugs and sit down across from him.

He opens his eyes, and his color is better. “You’ve decided to stay?”

“Luke, I’ve only seen you like this after days in the field, dehydrated. You were working full bore only about half an hour. What gives?”

The sandwich sits untouched. He wipes his face and seems resigned to something. “Okay. This is it. You want to know what happened?” The tone in his voice shifts as if the truth is being quietly wrung from him. “After you left, I got sick. Don’t look like that. It wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I took too many chances and ended up with rhabdo.”

Rhabdo. Rhabdomyolysis. It’s the curse of firefighting. Muscle weakness, electrolyte imbalance, brown urine, and in bad cases, renal failure, loss of kidney function, and death. Firefighters are intimately involved with both of the high-risk factors: the intense heat that leads to dehydration and extreme exertion, pushing themselves too hard. Muscle tissue breaks down, enters the blood stream, and the kidneys get overwhelmed. It’s no joke. Firefighters die from it.

“Is that why you’re here?”

Luke nods and gives me a wry smile. “I told the truth. It wasn’t about you. I was let go, and I decided I needed to start some place new. That’s why I’m going back to Orono next month.”

My mouth is so dry I can’t swallow. He gets up and fills a mason jar with water and sets it down next to my plate with half a sandwich.

“I really am here just a month, Devon. I tried hard not to see you, not to run into you. I didn’t want to bring this all up for you again.”