In the end, Gabe couldn’t let the kid down. “Sure,” he finally said in a tone that implied just the opposite. “Why not?”
But Megan read him loud and clear, pulling her daughter away from him and into her arms.
“We didn’t mean to bother you,” she said in a slightly defensive voice.
He didn’t tell them they hadn’t been a bother. It was better for them to think they had. That way they wouldn’t come back. That way he wouldn’t see either of them again.
At his curt nod, she said, “I appreciate you letting us come to see you today,” then took her daughter’s hand to pull her out the door.
“Do we have to go already?” the little girl protested. “I bet he has some really cool stories about all the scary things he’s done.”
In an instant, he saw in Summer the same desire for excitement and adrenaline, to live every single ounce of life, that he’d always had in himself.
Megan turned back to him, wary now. “I’m sure Mr. Sullivan needs to get some rest, baby.” She forced her lips into a false smile that made his chest feel like a hundred-pound weight had just landed on it. “Say goodbye now, honey.”
Summer frowned, with a mini-press of the lips that perfectly mirrored her mother’s. And then instead of saying the goodbye her mother had insisted on, she said, “Do you think maybe we could come by the fire station some time? You know, so you could show us around?”
Megan didn’t give him a chance to say a word, saying, “Summer,” in a clear warning that had her daughter sighing in resignation.
“Goodbye, Mr. Sullivan.”
He wanted to smile at the sweet little girl, wanted to let her know that the way he was acting didn’t have anything to do with her, and everything to do with knowing better than to let himself fall into something that would only end up hurting all of them in the end.
Instead, all he could say was, “Goodbye, Summer.”
Chapter Four
Two months later…
Megan wrapped an oversized towel around herself and stepped out of the bathroom to get changed into her clothes. The apartment they were renting until they could find the perfect new place to buy was small enough that she could see into the kitchen as she headed for the master bedroom.
“Summer, what are you working on?” she asked, trying to hold on to her patience as she took in the flour on her daughter’s cheeks and hair...flour that was, no doubt, all over the kitchen floor, too.
In the past two months, whenever Summer did something that made her mad, all Megan had to do was remember how small and fragile her daughter had been during the fire, how much she’d longed for the scrapes and mishaps Summer always managed to get into, and the little frustrations would disappear.
Only, these past few days, it seemed that Summer was more and more intent in her efforts to rile her up—and Megan was holding onto her calm by a very thin thread.
“Making muffins,” Summer hollered back, loud enough for the next apartment building over to know exactly what was going on in 1C across the street.
Although Megan had always loved looking out over the streets of San Francisco, she would never again live anywhere but on the first floor. She’d almost stopped having nightmares about being trapped on the third floor and having to crawl down what had seemed like endless stairs, and she’d take safety over views anytime. If she missed the views, well, that was just something she’d have to suck up and deal with.
“Okay,” she said slowly as she tucked the towel in tighter beneath her arms and stepped barefoot into the kitchen. “But what brought this on at—” She stopped to look at the clock on the oven. “—six-fifteen in the morning?”
They were both early risers, but her daughter wasn’t normally quite so industrious this early, especially not on the first day of winter break.
Summer gave her a wide smile, the one she always used on people to charm them into giving her exactly what she wanted. Megan liked to think it didn’t work on her. Not too often, anyway.
“We can bring them by the fire station.” Summer widened her smile. “For the firefighters to eat for breakfast.”
The first few weeks after the fire, Summer hadn’t stopped asking questions about fire, about fire engines...and about Gabe Sullivan. Megan had answered the technical questions as best she could with the help of the Internet and some books from the library. But she’d done her best to sidestep her daughter’s inquiries about the firefighter who had saved them. Particularly the ones about going to see him again.
In the hospital, she’d seen honest emotion in his eyes when Summer had hugged him. But then he’d closed up on them, so suddenly and so completely she’d actually felt a little hurt by it.
She knew better than to take it personally. Especially when she knew his head had been hit pretty darn hard with the beam. And her emotions had been really close to the surface that day, so close they kept bubbling over. She told herself that had to be the reason she’d felt bad about his behavior.
Unfortunately, Summer wasn’t the only one who thought about him all the time. Megan thought about him every day, too. About how grateful she was for what he’d done for them. About how selfless he was to have risked his life for them. And sometimes, late at night, when she was alone in her bed, she might have even thought a couple of times about how good-looking he was and how big his muscles were.
Not that those thoughts were worth anything, though. Even if he hadn’t all but kicked them out of his hospital room, she could never be with a man like him. Not after she’d learned the risks—and the pain—of being with a man who was addicted to danger, the hardest way it was possible to learn those lessons.
Megan wanted a future with a man who would definitely be home every night. She refused to ever spend another day, another night, waiting for the phone to ring, for the knock to come at the door with the news that she’d lost a partner she’d counted on to be there.
It didn’t help when Station 5 sent Summer a birthday gift a couple of weeks after the fire. It was a little firefighter doll with yellow pigtails, a big smile, and a small pet Dalmatian that came with a fire-engine-red leash. Summer dragged that doll and her dog everywhere, sleeping with them under her arm, cuddling up on the couch with them at night. Even now, the doll and stuffed dog were standing watch on the kitchen counter.
“I’m sure they already have plenty to eat for breakfast,” she told her daughter in a gentle voice.