The Firefighter Who Rescues Me

Chapter 6 ♚ More Motivation

The last time I had braced for a major scolding was the day I went back home with my hands burned from grabbing a live tear gas can.

I fiddled with my hands, eyes fixed on them, as I sat in the trailer in front of the developer and the foreman. Lance and Brian had been silent ever since I'd taken a seat, which was scarier than when papi had screamed himself hoarse at me, for risking my life and getting hurt protesting.

Finally, I couldn't take the silence anymore and asked, "Am I gonna get fired?"

"Not unless this becomes a common occurrence," Lance said and before I got a word in, he added, "Which I assume you'll say won't ever happen."

Well, that sounded both like a reassurance and a threat. I took it more as the latter, considering my track record.

"It looks pertinent to stress that we take behavioral issues very seriously," Brian said, which further robbed my frame from its ability to sit upright. "That also means if any of our men were to act inappropriately towards you, we would take disciplinary action against him."

That made me snap my eyes back up to them.

Brian propped his elbow on his desk and rested his chin on his hand. "You remind me a lot of a friend who used to be very prickly and all she needed was the benefit of the doubt. I'm willing to give it to you, if Lance agrees."

"Of course," his boss said right away, leaning back on his chair. "Not just because I believe in second chances, but because Jean would have my head."

I doubted that Alina's husband, who I'd been able to live with thanks to the fact he was sweeter than dulce de leche, would ever be able to figuratively behead one of his best friends.

Still, I knew it was my cue to say, "Thank you."

"I do suggest you find an outlet for your emotions, though," Brian said, his eyes getting lost in thought. "My prickly friend vented a lot while she was in the Bears, but that'll be off the table for you for obvious reasons."

"Wait," I interjected, catching onto the phrasing. "She played hockey?"

"Long story." He waved the question away with his hand.

"Looks to me like you work out," Lance said, lacing his hands on his belly like it was an armrest. "Why don't you hit the gym and let your stress out before coming to work in the morning?"

I assured them that I would, even though I knew the gym wouldn't fix me. I'd been trying for years, along with therapy. Medication, too, especially at the beginning when I'd needed more than a change of scenery to get out of the fog that my mind had become.

That afternoon, after I was done with the classroom training and returned to Margaret's place, I borrowed her computer to send Gina an email with the gist of what had happened. I titled it I almost died and almost killed someone to guarantee a quick response and she took the bait. After a couple of quick emails in succession, she call Margaret's cellphone to talk to me, since I still didn't have a new one.

"You know, when I imagined what could be the worst that could happen to you after leaving therapy, I never imagined any of this," Gina said as soon as I was done saying hello.

Chuckling, I asked her, "Then what did you imagine?"

She sighed. "I figured you'd get into a fist fight or something. Are you okay?"

"As can be." Wasting no more time, I asked her, "Did you find out if you can still be my therapist remotely?"

"My boss doesn't like the idea, she says we can't make an accurate assessment without seeing clients' body language and I agree."