Page 67 of Yours Truly, Fall

I think back on that photo of the two of us sitting on the stairs after my parents’ funeral. He was there for me even then. When he could have been playing with others in the yard, or eating his way through the tremendous amount of food everyone brought over, he wasn’t. He was with me, giving me comfort that I didn’t know I needed until he sat down on the stairs. Just like then and now, it’s always been him.

After the ceremony, I hold back to give his firefighting buddies their time to celebrate the promotion with him, the family he helped save the chance to thank him—which they do with tears and hugs—and his mom space to dote on her son while sharing how proud she is of him.

Our eyes find each other in the group each time we think there’s going to be a break in the line of people wanting to shake his hand. He smiles at me, and we silently exchange how we’ll be celebrating later with a few waggles of our eyebrows. I might have teased that I’m not wearing anything underneath this dress just in case he wants to ravage me before we make it home.

Home.

Wherever he is, I’ll be, because it’s not the place. It’s him for me.

I finally see an opportunity to sneak in but stop when Ludlow confronts him. Ludlow looks over at me, then repositions so his back is toward me. Such an asshole.

Brandon crosses his arms over his chest and listens, but he doesn’t appear entertained. He glances at me before he levels a glare at Ludlow and says something through tense lips. It’s probably not good if they keep talking.

I move through the lingering crowd, making my way around the mayor toward the stage. I hear it before I see it—the sound of a punch landing on its target. I run up the side steps, watching the doctor stumble backward into plastic folding chairs and land on his ass.

“Brandon?” I call, dashing in front of him. “No. Don’t.”

“Too late.” His eyes are focused, the prey so close to be taken down again if he’s stupid enough to open his mouth.

“You’re done, son.” Ludlow jabs a finger in the air as he pushes up again like he is a big boss when we know he’s scum. And has Ludlow not seen the size of his opponent’s muscles? I could write books about them and their gloriousness.

So stupid . . .

I slam my hands against Brandon’s chest to keep him from finishing this guy off. “He doesn’t matter. Let’s just go.”

Tucker jumps onto the stage and is dragging Ludlow off the back of it when Brandon looks at me and grins. Holding up the key and the medal, he asks, “What do I get for being a hero, Nurse?”

I catch the crew of firefighters clearing the nuisance from the area. They stick together, all right, and will handle it. As for this guy, I wrap my arms around his neck and lift on my toes to get closer to those incredible lips. “What do you want, Captain?”

“I’d rather show you.”

CHAPTER 29

BRANDON

My shoulder still bothers me sometimes, but only when I’ve pushed it too hard—lugging a ladder around at work or holding my girl up while I fuck her in the shower for the third time in one day. Taking it slow just isn’t something I’m good at. Ask my girlfriend.

My girlfriend.

After trying that title on her for size, I’ve determined it doesn’t fit Autumn. Yep, not taking it slow is becoming my motto. But I’m not naive. She likes plans and loves a good itinerary. So, popping the question too soon won’t work for her, which means it’s no good for me either. I’ll be patient. It’s been ten years of patience, and now almost two months with only sporadic memories returning, I’m a pro at it.

The memories hit quick and out of nowhere. We were checking out at the grocery store when I could see her in my mind walk into prom in a gold dress that made my jaw drop. I drove her to Ocean’s Bay three weeks ago for a fast-food burger and flashbacked to being seventeen, catching a glimpse of her lying out on the shores of the lake where all the kids used to hang out. I don’t know what she was thinking, dressed in a bikini so small that I almost jumped off a boat to cover her up. She’s lucky I didn’t, or that one guy swimming around her would have been taken out.

It was when I picked her up from the hospital last week that I stopped in my tracks. Seeing room 8 had everything coming back in full color. Her sitting with a patient I had brought in from a fire out on Dunlap. Neither of them saw me, but as I watched from the corridor, I could see the relief my girl brought reflected in the patient's eyes. That happened more than two years ago, but she had my heart all over again.

Tangled in the sheets next to me, my angel sleeps in such peace that she occasionally snores. Grinning, I slide over, pulling her back to my chest, my heart singing as she wiggles toward me in her sleep.

Just when I’m able to find sleep, the sound of a bulldozer breaks the silence. Shit. Rolling to my back, I scrub a hand over my face and release a heavy breath.

She sits up with a start, planting her weight on her elbow. Fear wrecks her forehead as she looks at me to protect her. “What is that?”

“Sorry, I forgot the crew was scheduled for this morning.” I kiss the top of her head and get out of bed.

“What crew?”

I grab a pair of shorts from the floor and a T-shirt from the chair in the corner where she tossed it last night. “The construction crew. You once said you wanted a paved road. I want you here, so we’re paving it.”

Rapid blinks are followed by a gaping mouth. She closes it, and then opens it again, staring at me while I put on a pair of socks. “What do you mean you’re paving it? It’s a mountain. The road is like a mile long.”