what are you saying? You’re going to call off the wedding?”
Andrea toyed with her ring. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Well, you better be sure before you go breaking Cal’s heart!” Marty snapped defensively.
“Marty!” Dina scowled. “It’s not like the girl don’t have enough guilt without your two cents. Look, Andrea, I understand what you are going through. I went through something similar back when Dwight and I first got married.”
“How did you get through it?”
“What are you talking about—get through? I’m still going through!” Dina half chuckled. “And I will be until he retires.” Dina reached across and touched Andrea’s hand. “Andrea…any sane woman is going to have doubts about marrying a man who wants to run into burning buildings. But despite all my fears and woes, I understood then and now that there is no one I want to grow old with more than Dwight.”
Andrea turned and looked at her. “And what if you never get a chance to grow old together?”
“That is the chance you take. If you can’t handle that you need to let him go now.”
“Look, you could marry a businessman and he gets hit crossing the street one day. Nothing in life is guaranteed.” Marty leaned forward to stress her point. “Andrea, I don’t think you realize that what we do is not just a job, it’s a calling. Honestly, I don’t know if I could do anything else, and I think I can say the same for Cal. This is in our blood—it’s a part of who we are. Can you understand that?”
“Yes, this is why I haven’t asked him to give it up for me.” Andrea, could not resist the urge to offer up a bread crumb of information, to feel them out about the fire that Cal wouldn’t talk about. “But what if…there were circumstances beyond his control? Something that forced him to give it up?”
Dina and Marty gave each other a knowing glance. “Are we talking about what happened in the Hadley building downtown about a month ago?” Dina asked.
Andrea struggled to close her mouth which had fallen open at how quickly they’d figured out her small clue.
What Andrea had not realized yet was that the members of Firehouse Fifteen were as close as a real family. And like any loving family, they tended to stay in each other’s business.
Everyone had noticed the subtle changes in Cal since the fall. It had been the talk in every home over the past few weeks. Primarily, because it was the closest that their team had come to losing one of their own in almost twenty years.
“No, no, nothing specific.” She shuddered nervously and Dina and Marty exchanged another glance.
“I was just saying, if there was some—oh, never mind!” Andrea slammed her head back against the leather chair and let out a large frustrated breath.
Marty studied her troubled face. She’d met Andrea the previous year when she’d been brought in for smoke inhalation and placed on Andrea’s ward. She’d liked the nurse right off and as they became friends, Marty soon discovered Andrea was not only kind and fun to be with, she was a lousy liar. In Marty’s estimation, those were all the traits of a good friend.
“By the way, I forgot to mention this earlier,” Dina started in an attempt to change the subject. “Did you ladies know that Dwight is supposedly planning a surprise bachelor party for Cal?”
Marty quirked an eyebrow. “So what?”
Dina’s eyes widened in amazement. “So what? Do you know what they do at those parties? Bring in a bunch of booty-shaking hoochies and get all liquored up!”
Marty settled back in her chair. “Come on, Dina, lighten up. It’s just the last hurrah before he gives up the bachelor life forever. Cut the guys some slack.” She glanced at Andrea. “Unless, you have a problem with it?”
Andrea, who’d been lost in thought, realized they were both staring at her. “What? Oh, doesn’t make me any difference,” she said with the shrug of her shoulders.
“Fine, suit yourself.” Dina twisted her mouth, realizing she would get no support for her moral outrage. “I’m just glad Dwight didn’t feel the need for such low, debasing entertainment.”
Marty snickered. “At least, none that he let you know about.”
“What are you saying—Dwight had a bachelor party without my knowledge?”
Before Marty could respond, an energetic man bounced into the room. “Hello, ladies!”
Andrea smiled in greeting, remembering the first time she’d seen Zack Aquinas, one of the most sought-after men in Detroit. Spa Day had originally been Dina’s idea, and from the way she had described the masseur, Andrea had expected him to look like something off the cover of a romance novel: tall, lean and beyond-belief gorgeous, when in truth he was a small, round man with a cherubic face. Not physically unpleasant, but certainly nothing worth throwing your panties at.
Andrea had almost laughed out loud at the comical image, until she stretched out on his table and experienced the magic for herself. The man’s hand were like living silk, and as if guided by some inner knowledge he had worked her taut shoulders and lower back until she felt like a ball of pliable rubber. After that first session, Andrea slept better than she had in years. It only took one more session to turn her into a Zack groupie.
As they followed him to the tables, Andrea found that she was relieved that Zack had arrived when he did. She was starting to regret consulting her opinionated friends; with their conflicting opinions, they’d only left her more confused than she already was. Not that any of it mattered anyway. In the end the decision would have to be hers.
Across town at the firehouse, Cal was finishing up his daily sixty-minute workout by adding another twenty-pound weight to each end of the pole and securing it in place with the locks. He glanced back at the doorway beside one of the gym equipment cabinets.
“Something on your mind, Jeff?” he asked, before shaking the light sprinkling of dust from his hands and positioning himself on the bench to lift the one hundred and fifty pounds over his chest.
Jeff Collins froze in his hiding place behind the large metal cabinet. He glanced at the opposite wall, noticing for the first time the large mirror that revealed his presence. He’d assumed Cal was too involved in his workout routine to notice anything.
Assuming what he hoped was a casual posture, he stepped out into the open. “No, not really.”
Cal shrugged and lifted the bar. Pushing up with fairly little exertion, he completed ten repetitions before replacing the bar. Cal glanced at his friend. “Hey, man, I know that the promotion thing—I mean, I don’t want there to be any hard feelings.”
Jeff stood over the bench. “No hard feelings.”
Cal glanced at him. Something in Jeff’s voice said otherwise.
“I’m just here to do a job.”
Cal sat up, and grabbing a towel off a nearby bench, he wiped his face. “Glad to hear that.” Cal still felt the need to give a warning. He slung the towel around his neck and stood. “After all, a firehouse is
