Once Burned (Firehouse Fourteen Book 1) (13 page)

She stared at it, frowning. Thinking. Then she shook her head and finally turned toward the steps, slowly climbing the stairs. Returning to her cold, empty bed.  

"What the fuck, Mike? What the hell did you do this time?"

Jay's loud voice bounced off the kitchen walls, raking down her spine and echoing in her head. Mike turned from the bulletin board she was cleaning off and stared at him, her eyes widened in shock at his unusual outburst. She looked around, thinking he was yelling at someone else. But no, he had yelled her name, nobody else's. And she was the only one left in the kitchen.

"What are you talking about?" Her voice was calmer than she expected, considering Jay's tone had automatically put her on the defensive.

"This. Have you seen it yet?" He advanced on her, a sheet of paper clenched in his fist. Mike threw the yellowed notice she was holding into the trash, wiped her hands along her pants, then took the paper from him, studying him for a brief second before looking down at it. She scanned it quickly, then went back and read it more slowly, a knot of apprehension fisting in her stomach at the words.

"Oh shit, I am so completely fucked," she mumbled. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath, trying to come up with an explanation or excuse that would save her hide. Her mind was disgustingly blank.

"Make that doubly fucked when Captain Nelson sees it, especially after that stupid letter you wrote." Jay sat in one of the wooden seats and leaned over the table, watching her carefully. She returned his gaze then sat down herself and rested her head on her folded arms with a groan.

The 'stupid letter' Jay mentioned had been the rough draft, get-it-out-of-her-system, not-intended-for-anyone-to-see venting letter explaining why she could no longer participate in the awareness program at Buckley High, detailing conflict of interest and personal reasons—including animosity between the school's liaison and herself. The letter had been on the bottom of the pile of papers she had tossed on the captain's desk two tricks ago, right before that rescue where she had been clobbered. The only thing that had saved her on that one had been Jay's quick thinking and fancy explanations.

Mike lifted her head and scanned the new letter, her stomach literally turning in fear and apprehension. She was so screwed, it wasn't even funny. She might as well clean out her locker now, because there was no doubt Captain Nelson would have her transferred after this.

Because the letter in her hand was from one Mr. Nick Lansing, politely inquiring if other personnel were available to assist with the awareness program, citing his inability to work with her.

Due to personal reasons and conflict of interest.

An image of her instructional certifications being ripped from her and sucked into a vortex flashed through her mind. She didn't even want to think of the hell Captain Nelson would inflict on her. Fear gripped her again at the thought of being transferred. There was no doubt he'd try. Could he really make that happen? She didn't know but she wouldn't put it past him. He was next on the Chief's list and wouldn't appreciate anything that might mar his reputation—real or imagined. No, he wouldn't put up with this, no matter what she said to refute it.

And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't think of one single thing to explain away the letter, not when it so closely mirrored hers.

"So what happened? Why would he suddenly write this?" Jay asked, his voice a little calmer. Good for him, since she was anything but calm. Mike looked up at him and laughed, the sound short and brittle.

"I slept with him, then he told me he was an alcoholic."

Jay's eyes widened, surprise clear on his face. He looked away and cleared his throat, then shifted in the chair. A minute went by, filled with more throat clearing, before he looked at her again. "Well, okay. Yeah. That makes a lot of sense."

He looked so flustered that Mike almost wanted to laugh. Almost. Unfortunately, the situation had drained even her warped sense of humor. She leaned back in the chair and stared up at the ceiling, wishing the aging tiles would crumble and fall on top of her. Maybe it would injure her enough that she would be placed off duty until this entire farce was over.

Minutes went by and she knew that all the wishful thinking in the world wasn't going to help. It was too late for that. She mumbled a curse and shook her head, unable to shake the feeling of doom that had grabbed her when she first read the letter.

"Um, Mikey, I don't mean to make things worse, but what you said makes absolutely no sense at all."

"It makes as much sense as the relationship between Nick and me has ever made," she muttered, mostly to herself. She had known he was upset when he left that night, but she never thought he'd do this.

"So when did this, um, you know, um—"

"When did I screw him?"

Jay winced at her bluntness, a faint blush tingeing his cheeks as he nodded, quickly adding, "I don't want the details."

"Three days after the rescue. He came by because we missed the meeting and he wanted to know what was going on. We started talking, he helped me upstairs, one thing led to another and we, well, you can use your imagination."

"No thank you, I think I'll pass on that one." Jay slid the letter across the table and read it to himself, then sat back. "So then what happened? I don't get that part about him telling you he was an alcoholic."

Mike shifted uncomfortably in her chair, unable to face Jay. She took a deep breath for courage, then let the confession tumble out. "Later, I went downstairs for some more medicine, and decided to have a drink. He told me he was an alcoholic and I asked him if he was accusing me of being one. When he said no, I asked why he bothered to tell me because he didn't need sympathy points since we'd already had sex."

Silence filled the room, making Mike even more uncomfortable than she already was. The words, the admission, hadn't come easy, not when she still regretted what she had said that night. She finally looked up at Jay, unable to bear his silence, and saw him frowning at her. Her stomach knotted even more at the look.

"I know it was a stupid thing to say, and I tried apologizing, but it was too late. You don't have to look at me like I'm a total loser."

Jay's expression cleared and he finally shook his head, then reached out and patted her hand in what she supposed was meant as a reassuring gesture. "No, I don't think that. It's just, I'm still confused. I don't get it. I can understand him being angry—admit it, Mike, that was a stupid thing to say, even with your temper. But this," he pointed to the letter, "this seems a bit drastic. I mean, he had to know it would look bad."

"Why would he? It's not like he knows about the other letter, or how things work around here. And with everything that's happened between us, you can't really call it drastic, either. Inevitable, yes. I mean, something like this was bound to happen, especially with our history."

Jay continued looking at her, his confusion evident on his face. He shook his head again and tapped the letter. "But I still don't understand the conflict of interest part. Or what him telling you he was an alcoholic has to do with anything. I mean, he went to a rehab to dry out. It doesn't take a genius to figure out he was an alcoholic."

Mike sat up straighter in the chair and looked up at Jay, narrowing her eyes as she studied him. "What did you just say?"

He pushed back in his chair, looking like he expected her to jump at him. "Uh, which part?"

"The rehab part."

"Oh. Um, yeah. Why?"

"What rehab?"

Jay's eyes widened and he mumbled something under his breath, giving Mike the distinct impression that he just realized he said something he shouldn't have. She fixed him with her sternest glare, making him squirm in his seat. His eyes darted around the room, as if he was looking for something to save him. Unfortunately for him, there was nothing there to help.

"I thought you knew," Jay muttered. He squirmed again, then finally cleared his throat and fixed his gaze on the wall behind her. "Nick went to rehab after your accident. To dry out."

"When did you find this out?"

"Right after we started this thing. The second meeting, maybe? I don't remember." He leaned forward, his gray eyes serious, studying her. "You really didn't know?"

Mike shook her head, too stunned to say anything. Not that there was really anything to say. She looked down at the letter, seeing only blurred black lines as one thought after another tumbled through her mind. Nick had gone to a rehab. But when? And why? For how long? She thought back, but didn't see a reason for it. Yeah, he had definitely known how to drink, and had loved to party, but an alcoholic? It didn't make sense.

Not that it mattered now, anyway. Like Jay had said, she couldn't see a connection. And it didn't concern her, regardless. The only thing that concerned her now was the letter in front of her, and how she could dig herself out of the hole it put her in. She picked the sheet of paper back up and scanned it again.

"How did you get this, anyway?" Mike finally asked.

"The mail just came and I was sorting through it. Why?"

"Because it's the original, not a copy."

"Yeah. He mailed it directly to the station, not through headquarters. Why?"

Mike fingered the letter, thinking. An idea was forming, giving her a slim chance to make things right. Or dig herself an even deeper hole. She looked up at Jay, and knew exactly when he realized what she was thinking.

"The Captain's off this whole trick, right?"

"Yeah. Mike, you can't—"

"That gives me the rest of this trick, plus the four days we're off. Seven days. Did you show this to anyone else?"

"No. Mikey, if you get caught—"

"I'm not going to get caught. I'm just going to see if I can talk to Nick, maybe come to an agreement."

"And what if he mailed a copy to headquarters? Suppose this isn't the only copy floating around? What are you going to do if someone else finds out? Mike, you're taking a big chance."

She folded the letter and tucked it into her pocket, then gave Jay an innocent look. "What chance? Mail gets misplaced all the time. Besides, what's the worse they can do? Suspend me? Transfer me? The same thing could happen when the captain sees the letter. You know how he's strictly by-the-book and wouldn't hesitate to write me up."

"I still think it's a big risk. Suppose Nick pushes the issue? What do you think will happen then? It's too big a chance to take."

"Yeah, well, I have to try. I don't have any other choice."

Nick grasped the guitar loosely in his hands and stared down at the sheet in front of him, frowning at the scattered notes. He shook his head, took the pencil from his mouth and made some quick changes, then picked out the new chords. He repeated them then nodded to himself, satisfied with the sound. Mellow, a little bluesy, perfectly matching his mood. Just for good measure he plucked the notes of the song from the beginning, listening critically. Not too bad. Needed a little tweaking, but getting there.

He leaned the guitar against the sofa then stood and stretched, feeling his back pop with the movement. He walked over to the stereo and popped in a CD then moved to the kitchen to fix dinner, the sounds of Kenny Wayne Shepherd following him.

Nick just finished fixing his plate when the doorbell rang. Sighing, he looked at the clock on the microwave and muttered to himself, covered the plate, then went to answer the door. The bell rang again as he walked down the short flight of stairs of the split-level, and he bit back a comment about patience.

"Yeah?" He opened the door, already planning on getting rid of whoever was there, then paused. Kayla was standing on the front porch, dressed in her uniform, her face expressionless. Nick braced his arm against the doorframe, effectively blocking her from entering, and stared at her. "What do you want?"

She eyed him warily, her gaze taking in his unwelcoming posture, and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I was wondering if we could talk."

"I really don't have anything to say."

Kayla paused, obviously not expecting to hear him say that. She cleared her throat and looked over at the driveway, then leaned to the side to look past him. Nick eased the door closed a fraction, just enough to block her view. Kayla straightened and looked directly at him then quickly looked away, her shoulders slumping just a bit.

"Then would it be okay if I talked to you?"

"What about?"

She muttered something under her breath and Nick instinctively knew she hadn't expected a hard time from him. And why should she have? After all, he had been the one pursuing her, approaching her, trying to get closer to her. Kayla mumbled something else then reached into an inside jacket pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper, holding it out to him. He reluctantly reached out and took it from her then opened it.

"Where did you get this?"

"Could I maybe come in so we can talk about it? In case you haven't noticed, it's a little cold out here."

Nick watched her for another minute, his expression carefully blank, then handed the letter back to her and stepped aside, motioning for her to come in. She mumbled a thank you then followed him up the stairs. He walked through the living room and into the kitchen, Kayla a few feet behind him. He placed the plate in the microwave, set the timer and then hit the start button before turning around to face her.

"So what do you want?"

She looked noticeably uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly as he watched her. Her gaze darted around the kitchen, finally settling on something behind him as she took a deep breath. "I'd like you to reconsider what you said in the letter."

"No." Nick turned when the timer went off and removed the plate from the microwave, gave the contents a quick stir, then replaced it and reset the timer. Kayla was still staring at him in surprise when he turned back around.

"Why not?"

"Because we can't work together. You know it. I know it. If we keep working together, the program will fall apart. I can't let that happen."

"What do you mean, the program will fall apart? That's a crock of shit and you know it."

"No, I don't know it."

Kayla looked away from him and shook her head in disbelief, obviously thinking she had been going to change his mind. Nick removed his dinner from the microwave and put it on the island counter, then pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator. The only sound in the room was the bluesy rock drifting in from the stereo, which suited Nick fine. He took a seat at the counter and started eating, resolved to ignore Kayla.

"So how did you get the letter?" Nick finally asked after several long minutes and a few bites of food. He hadn't planned on asking her, was going to ignore her until she left, but it wasn't as easy as he thought it would be. Not with her standing there watching him, something close to desperation on her face.

"It came in the mail at the station and I opened it."

"Funny. I don't remember addressing it to you."

She ignored him, looking at a spot above his shoulder. Nick sighed and resumed eating, the left-over sweet and sour chicken and fried rice now tasting gritty and too tart against his tongue.

"I don't understand it, Nick. One thing shouldn't have anything to do with the other."

Nick dropped his fork on the plate with a clang and pushed it away, his appetite gone. He propped his elbows on the counter and fixed her with a steady look. "And what one thing would that be, Kayla?"

She motioned with her hand between them, her discomfort obvious. "You know, the other week. And what happened."

"No, tell me. What exactly happened? The no-strings fuck you asked for, or our little discussion afterward?"

Her face paled but she didn't look away, which is what Nick had expected. He continued watching her, waiting for her to say something, wondering what excuse, what story she would come up with. But she didn't say anything, just finally sighed and hoisted herself on the stool across from him, easing off her jacket when she got settled. He noticed the small wince when she did, only because he was looking for it, and almost asked if she was feeling any better.

But he didn't, just raised an eyebrow in her direction, half-tempted to remind her that he hadn't invited her to stay. He opened his mouth to say just that but she spoke up first.

"Did you really go into rehab?" Her question was hesitant, her voice barely above a whisper, and she didn't look at him when she asked it. It caught him so off-guard that Nick's pulse actually stopped for a few seconds. He wondered how she had found out, but as soon as the question entered his mind, he knew the answer. Her buddy at work, Jay.

Nick muttered a curse and stood up so quickly the stool rocked backward. He caught it before it fell then grabbed his plate and dumped it into the sink, scraps and all. He didn't have a problem with Kayla knowing but he didn't feel up to the sarcastic comments he was sure she would make.

"Were you?" She asked again, her voice still quiet. Nick leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his chest, studying her.

"Yeah, I was."

"Why?"

"Now why do you think? For the same reason most people go into rehab. Because I had a drinking problem, that's why."

Kayla didn't say anything, just sat there on the stool, drawing an invisible circle on the island countertop with her finger. She finally stopped her imaginary doodling, took a deep breath, and looked up at him. "But you didn't have a problem."

"Yeah, Kayla, I did."

"How? And when? I don't remember you drinking that much."

Nick gabbed the bottle of water from the counter and took a long swallow, watching her closely, wondering why she was suddenly so interested. Was it merely curiosity? Or something more? He recapped the bottle then hoisted himself up on the counter, leaning forward so he wouldn't bang his head against the cabinets behind him. His hands gripped the edge of the counter as he thought about how much to tell her.

How could she not remember? Life had been one endless party. Beer. Whiskey. A little pot. Music and sex. That was all that had mattered. Nothing else. Getting drunk, maybe high. Playing his music.

Spending time with Kayla.

Every day. Day after day. How could she not remember?

"Kayla, I drank all the time.
All
the time. Between the alcohol and the occasional pot, I was stoned more than I was sober. Are you honestly going to tell me you don't remember that?"

She bit her lower lip and slowly shook her head. "Not really, no. I mean, yeah, you partied a lot, but you were, what? Eighteen? Nineteen? Everybody parties at that age."

"Partying? Is that what you think I was doing?" Nick paused then took another sip of water, shaking his head. "It was one hell of a lot more than partying, Kayla. What did you think I was doing while you were in school? Do you think I waited to start drinking until I picked you up at night?"

"No. I don't know. I guess I never thought about it."

"Yeah, I guess not. Do you want to know what I did that night after the accident? After leaving the hospital and after the police got through with me? I went out and got drunk, and I got stoned, and I pretty much stayed that way for several days straight. Right after the accident. Right after I damn near killed you." His voice broke and he swallowed against the sudden thickness in his throat. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the cabinet, trying to banish the memories, trying to breathe against the despair that threatened to drown him.

He took a deep breath then grabbed the water bottle and took another sip, almost wishing it was something stronger. Kayla was silent. He looked over at her, surprised to see that she was just sitting there, her face expressionless, still doodling on the counter with her finger.

Minutes ticked by, filled with nothing but the music coming from the stereo. The last song on the CD faded and Nick heard the faint click of the disc changer as it chose a new CD. He inwardly groaned when he recognized it as one he burned himself, full of older slow rock songs that were popular when he and Kayla had been dating. Quite a few of them held more than just a casual memory, too. Perfect. Just what he needed, tonight of all nights. Nick spared a glance in Kayla's direction but she didn't seem to notice.

Her silence was beginning to make him uncomfortable, because it was too unlike her. At least, what he knew of this new Kayla, which wasn't a whole lot once he stopped to think about it. She had been right the other night when she said that, except for the meetings they had been forced to have, they had only seen each other personally several times in the last two months. And with the exception of the other night, none of those encounters had lasted very long, or amounted to much.

God, had it really only been a few times? And only a couple of months? It felt like so much longer. It felt like the last ten years had never happened, that they had never spent time apart.

But that didn't make things any easier, not with the history between them—because the last ten years
had
happened and they really didn't know one another, not any more. Nick sighed and finished off the water, then recapped the bottle and sat it on the counter.

"So why did you write the letter?" Kayla's question penetrated the silence, startling Nick. He turned toward her to see that she was standing now, leaning against the counter with the letter in front of her. He took a deep breath and let it out, then leaned his head against the cabinet, wondering if it would be better to stay where he was, or to get down off the counter and stand instead.

Nick ran a hand over his face then hopped off the counter and threw the empty bottle in the trash can. He turned to face Kayla, crossing his arms in front of him. "I wrote it because I really don't think we can work together, Kayla. Not on this. The first presentation is supposed to take place in two weeks, and right now, it's the furthest thing from my mind. There's too much tension between us, Kayla. Even you have to be able to see that."

He paused to see her reaction but she just stood there, watching him with a blank look. She finally shook her head and glanced back at the letter in her hand.

"Tension or not, this was a bit drastic, don't you think? I mean, we're both grown adults. We should be able to work around it."

"Kayla, I have too much riding on this program. I can't afford to have it get messed up."

She looked up at him, a spark flashing in her eyes. "You're not the only one who has a lot riding on it. If I get pulled from this, our captain will go ballistic. At best, he's going to write me up. At worst, they could yank my certification or transfer me. Knowing Captain Nelson, I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to have me suspended."

"I'm supposed to believe that? After you already told me that Jay was the one who was supposed to be doing everything?" Nick leaned against the counter, making no attempt to hide his suspicion.

"Yeah. Jay
is
supposed to do everything, and he will because he needs this for his next level. But he can't do it without someone else overseeing and evaluating. I'm the only one on our shift with the qualification to do that. Our captain wants this project to stay on our shift, because it'll look good for him when promotions come up." She held up the letter and waved it in Nick's direction, the movement sharp and angry. "If I get yanked, Jay will get probably get yanked, which will make our captain extremely unhappy."

"Kayla, I don't—"

"Come off it, Nick. There's got to be a way to work around this." She paused, looking him squarely in the eye, beseeching. "Please."

The sincerity in her voice and the pleading in her eyes did him in. He bit back an oath and shook his head, knowing that somehow, he was going to regret what he was about to do. Taking a deep breath, he moved the two steps to the counter island and grabbed the letter, then tore it in half, and half again. "There. It's done. Is that what you wanted?"