wrenched my left shoulder against a doorjamb as we were making our escape.
Stupid fuck!
But I’m not telling the doc that. A shoulder injury will get me sent home on medical leave for a good month at least, and no way am I having that. I’d die of boredom.
I will have to admit, the burns are starting to hurt like a motherfucker, and when the nurse comes in and offers me something for the pain, I go ahead and take her up on it. I might be a tough son of a bitch most times, but burns tend to be in a different realm of pain level.
A shot of Morphine five minutes later and I’m feeling pretty good. The doctor comes in and examines me, telling me what I already know. I have two second-degree steam burns—each about the size of a quarter—from the flashover. They’ll require dressing changes and an antibiotic ointment. I’m put out of work for one week and told to return for a re-evaluation, but that they could take three to four weeks to heal.
Well, shit! I probably should have told him about my shoulder then, but the Morphine sort of chased that pain away, so whatever.
His last words to me were that I’d need to get a responsible adult to take me home because of the narcotic medications they had given me. Just great! I don’t feel like waiting for my parents or Nix to come get me, and Tim is back on duty at the Station, so that’s a no-go.
Which leaves me to dial the one person who I really want to pick me up and who would be my first choice anyway, but I put her at the bottom because... well, because damn it, I’m trying to maintain a respectful distance from her.
Rowan picks up on the second ring. “Hey, Flynn-ster. What’s shakin’?”
Her voice is so cheerful and happy, it makes me internally sigh. I imagine the way she looks and I feel like I could drift away with her beautiful face in my mind. It would be easy because my eyes feel so heavy.
“Flynn? Are you there?”
“Hey, beautiful. I need you to pick me up.” Damn, but my tongue feels thick and I’m not quite sure I even understood what I just said.
“Oh my God,” Rowan says with a groan. “You got drunk on duty?”
“What?” I ask in confusion. “I’m not drunk. High, probably, but not drunk.”
“Flynn, what the hell is going on? I’m freaking out here.”
I snicker, because this seems pretty funny. “I’m at the hospital. They gave me a shot of something but I can’t leave unless someone can take me home.”
“The hospital?” She practically screeches and I have to hold the phone away from my ear. When I put it back, she’s in the middle of a sentence and I struggle to catch up. “...but I’m going to have to take your car so you better not be pissed. Now where are you?”
Now I’m confused. “What about my car? What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing’s wrong with it. I’m going to have to drive it there. Just tell me where you are.”
“I’m at Brookdale.”
I think.
“Are you okay? What happened?”
“I’m fine,” I assure her, and it’s true. Not feeling any pain right now. “Just come get me and I’ll tell you all about it when you get here.”
“Okay... I’m leaving now.”
“Thanks... and Rowan?”
“Yeah?”
“You know I still think you’re the one for me, right?”
There’s no sound from her end, and I think she may have hung up, so I let my eyes start to close. Just as I feel myself drifting off, I think I hear her say, “I hope so.”
Throbbing pain wakes me up and my eyelids feel like they’re glued shut. With a solid effort, I open them and stare around, confused. I expect to see the Station sleeping quarters, but I’m in my bed... in my apartment... and I have no clue how I got here.
Then the memories come rushing back and I remember the fire and my trip to the hospital. I have vague memories of Rowan coming to get me, and maybe I’m delusional, but I think she may have been crying when she showed up.
The rest of the night flashes in bits and pieces. Her buckling me into my car, helping me take my shirt off, sitting beside my bed and holding my hand.
I gingerly poke at the bandages on my chest and suck in my breath when the pain ratchets up. Rolling off the bed, I stand up and look down to see I’m naked. A very distinct memory assaults me and I’m quite positive I insisted to Rowan that I sleep naked, demanding that she help me out of all of my clothes.
Oh, God. What in the hell did they give me at the hospital?
I pull on a pair of sweatpants and head toward the bathroom so I can take the monster of all pisses. My bladder feels like it’s going to explode.
Just as I step into the hallway, Rowan’s bedroom door flies open. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
I smile because she’s standing before me in just my t-shirt. The one I’d given her to wear months ago when she first came to stay with me. Normally she wears some shorts with it, but this morning, I’m treated to miles of gloriously bare legs with the hem just teasing me short of her panties.
“I’m good. Just going to the bathroom.”
“Are you in pain?”
“Actually, yeah. I’d love some Ibuprofen if you don’t mind.”
Rowan turns to head into the kitchen. “They actually gave you some stronger stuff.”
“No,” I call to her. “I don’t want that shit. Just Ibuprofen.”
She looks back at me in astonishment. “Are you sure?”
I grin at her. “Yup. Seems it makes me do strange things... like demanding that you strip me naked.”
Rowan actually blushes scarlet. “Remember that, do you?”
“Bits and pieces.”
She gives me a smile. “Well, come into the kitchen when you’re done and let me check the wounds. The doctor told me what to look for when changing the bandages.”
After I finish my business, I head into the kitchen, scratching my stomach and trying to stifle a yawn. I feel so groggy and need caffeine immediately.
I find Rowan bent over Capone’s water bowl to pick it up, and I’m treated with a boner-inducing view of her ass barely hanging into a pair of white, lace panties. Fuck, I’m going to pitch a tent right here in the kitchen so I quickly avert my eyes and head to the coffee pot. I concentrate on the burns on my chest, and I let the throb of pain invade my senses, which completely works to help me avoid embarrassing myself.
Rowan steps up to the sink and fills Capone’s bowl. “Why don’t you sit at the table and let me look at the burns?”
I see a cup of coffee already poured with two Ibuprofen laying beside it. I pick them up, toss them in the back of my throat, and chase it with the hot coffee, which burns like hell going down.
Taking a seat at the table, I sip at my coffee a bit more carefully while Rowan feeds Capone. When she’s done, she washes her hands in the sink and quickly dries them with some paper towels. She steps up to me and moves right in between my legs with no hesitation. Memories of that first time we kissed, with her standing between my legs, floods over me. I try like hell to avert my eyes so I’m not staring straight at her breasts as they sway softly under the cotton shirt when she moves.
“Lean back,” she says softly. “I’m going to take the bandages off and put some ointment on.”
“Maybe I should take a shower first.”
Rowan shakes her head. “No, let’s be careful today with it. Bath is all you get so we can keep the bandages dry.”
I grumble because I hate taking baths. Our tub is large enough to barely bathe a child, much less my
