Chapter 7
For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Dallas woke, disoriented and uneasy, with her heart pounding. The difference being Cary, Terry, and Gael were surrounding her where she rested on the gurney.
“I don’t suppose this stays between us,” she croaked.
Gael grinned and smoothed back her hair. “No. We took pictures to post around the locker room. Did you know you drool?”
Cary or Terry snorted. Dallas had no idea which one because she could only focus on Gael.
“Are they planning to take you to the hospital?” she asked and sat up.
“No. I’m good.” At her disbelieving look, he said, “Really, mi sol.”
She shook her head and looked for confirmation from Cary as to the truth of his words. What she got from her friend was wide, shocked eyes. “Mi sol?” she mouthed.
Since Dallas had no language skills to speak of, she had no idea what the words meant. Obviously Cary did. Curious despite herself, Dallas focused on Gael and asked, “What does mi sol mean?”
“My sun.”
The intensity in his eyes as he replied burned her to her very soul. Crikey! No wonder Cary’s eyes almost popped out of her head. Dallas had never been anyone’s anything before. Being the recipient of Gael’s complete attention was unnerving and thrilling at the same time.
“How are you feeling?” Terry asked, reaching over to check her vitals.
“I’m good,” she said, parroting Gael. “Really.”
“If you two are ‘good’ then get the hell out of my rig. I want to be available for any of the crew if they need help.” Terry was all business twenty-four-seven.
Cary rolled her eyes behind his back. “Gael, you should get checked out. Tory said you inhaled a lot of smoke.”
“He’s going,” Dallas decreed.
“D.J.—” he started only to be interrupted by the slash of her hand.
“If this was one of our patients, what would you recommend?”
He had no argument because he knew it was imperative a patient have blood gas levels checked after smoke inhalation. “Fine.”
“Thank you, Gael.”
* * *
The ER physician on duty released Gael with an inhaler, a recommendation for rest, and a warning to come back at the slightest change. On the taxi ride to Dallas’s apartment, she asked the one question which had been plaguing her all night.
“Why did you stay behind?”
“I needed to get something,” he murmured, eyes closed and head resting against the seat back.
“Gael, you almost lost your damned life. What was so important you had to run into the damned fire?”
“Leave it alone.”
“I won’t leave it alone. If something had happened to you…” Her eyes burned and her nose was quickly clogging. God, she hated crying. There was nothing attractive about the gargoyle she resembled when she became an emotional mess.
Gael gripped her hand, intwining their fingers. “It’s stupid.”
“What’s stupid?” she asked, confused.
“The reason I went to my office. Well, not stupid but… Christ! Fine. I wanted to get the first note you ever wrote me.”
Her jaw dropped to her knees.
“It has sentimental value, okay?” He glared at her as if his decision was her fault.
“Where is it?” Dallas had no idea what could possibly be in the note. She never remembered writing one to him.
He released a long suffering sigh and dug into his back pocket. For a moment he stared at the paper before handing it over to her and staring moodily out the window.
With great care she unfolded the letter.
WELCOME TO THE TEAM.
DON’T SUCK. D.J.
Slowly, she folded it back up, biting her lip to suppress a grin. “Is this why you call me D.J. when no one else does?”
He nodded.
The smile she’d been fighting so hard to hide burst forth along with a light laugh. “Oh, Gael. This is so sweet.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“No, it really is,” she insisted, grabbing the hand he’d pulled away in his embarrassment. “I have something from our first meal together.”
He looked up sharply.
“We went to Oriental Garden. After dinner, you read your fortune, laughed, and tossed it on the table. I snatched it up when your back was turned.” Confession was good for the soul, or so it was said.
The goofy grin on his face matched her own.
“Who knew we were a couple of romantics?” he laughed. Once again, he reached into his pocket. This time he pulled out a tiny slip of paper.
“You didn’t! Seriously? You kept mine?” Her own laughter couldn’t be contained as she re-read the fortune from so long ago.
LOVE CAN LAST A LIFETIME, IF YOU WANT IT TO
“It can.”
His soft voice pulled her eyes to him.
“What?”
He nodded to the paper in her hand. “Love can last a lifetime, if you want it to.”
“How about the two of us make it through the next twenty-four hours without injury, then we’ll think about a lifetime,” she said dryly, in an effort to dodge a commitment she wasn’t sure she had any right thinking about or wishing for.
Gael snatched the fortune and the note from her hand, then slid them back into his pocket for safekeeping. Warmth spread through her at the thought he’d been carrying a torch for her as long as she had for him.
“Gael?”
“Yeah?”
“If you ever run into a fire again for a damned slip of paper, I’ll kill you myself.”