Mistake By Icecat62 Picking the glass up, he swirled the ice cubes around watching them sparkle in the dull light of the bar. When he first walked in, he promised himself he'd only have one drink and then he'd slither off to his house and nurse his wounded heart. Tilting the glass, he looked at the empty space and sighed. His house would be empty. He'd be alone. Pushing the glass away he raised a finger. "The same." Wordlessly the bartender filled a new glass, switching the empty one with it. Okay, so he'd drink this one and leave. What could it hurt? Before he knew it the glass was empty, but he was feeling a little more relaxed. Popping an ice cube in his mouth, he chewed it as he thought. What had he done? Things had been going great between them for the five months they'd been together and not once had she hinted that what he did for a living bothered her. Not once had she mentioned that she thought he didn't make enough money. Why today? Why did she wait all this time to dump him? Pushing the glass across the bar top, he ordered another drink. Quickly downing it, he asked for another. This time the bartender held his hand out. Gage knew the drill. More than three drinks and they took your keys. Handing them over, he took his drink and walked over to a booth where he dropped into it like a sack of wet sand. Pushing himself into the corner, he frowned as he sipped the drink. Why did she dump him? Last night she was with him. Closing his eyes he remembered how she had felt. The softness of her skin, the warmth and the heat. Her love. Opening his eyes he stared blindly at the tabletop. She had said she loved him. The way her fingers touched him, her kisses deep and passionate had told him she did. Like a fool he returned the words, relieved to know she felt the way he did. Taking a large swig from the glass he frowned. He went over the day's events. He'd woken to find her tucked against him and he spooned around her for a moment, content and happy. Knowing he had to be at work soon, he gave her a soft kiss and slid out of bed. Buttoning his jeans, he jumped as she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest. When he turned to her, their kisses were just as passionate as they were only hours ago. It had killed him to say no to a quickie before giving her another kiss before leaving. His thoughts shifted to what had happened at work. He'd been so relaxed and happy that not even Chet riding him at roll call could dampen his mood. After a few quiet runs disaster struck. A large fire on the docks took forever to knock down and he and Roy treated too many firefighters for smoke inhalation. The worst had to have been Stan McDonald. Trapped under a fallen wall, he suffered extensive burns on his chest and arms. The transport was hard. He'd talked to the injured man, trying to keep him thinking about something other than the pain, grateful for the morphine he was able to administer. Wheeling Stan into the exam room, he looked up to see Samantha staring across the table at him with wide eyes. He could see her relief in knowing that it wasn't him and when he left the room she was busy helping Doctor Brackett prep Stan for treatment. The rest of the shift was relatively quiet. He tried to call her, but each time she was unavailable. When they finally had a run that brought them to Rampart he set off to find her. Her back was to him when he came up behind her. Saying her name, she jumped, then turned to look at him. He'd seen her expression before on other women and his heart sank. His instincts proved right. She'd blown him off. She stared at the floor, her voice surprisingly tearful as she told him that it was over. Over? How could she decide after last night that it was over? Not knowing what to say, he stood rooted in place watching as she turned and walked down the hall and out of sight. It was over. She said it, but he didn't believe it. Not after their night together. Not after she had told him how much she loved him. The insecurities filtered in. Was it a game? Did she get off on stomping on hearts? That couldn't be it. She was too nice for something like that. Making his way back to the squad, he sat and waited for Roy to come out. Roy knew immediately that something was wrong, but he didn't press him for answers. The shift drug on and Chet repeatedly baited him, sensing his loss. It was surprisingly easy to ignore him. Running on autopilot he begged off Roy's invitation to come home with him for dinner. He wasn't ready to talk about it and didn't know if he ever would be. As he drove home, he grew more depressed, thus his trip to the bar. Taking another swig from the glass he closed his eyes. Between his lack of sleep and the amount of alcohol consumed, he was ready to fall asleep. He sensed someone standing near him and opened his eyes expecting to see the bartender offering to call him a cab. Samantha stood looking down at him, her expression unsure. Staring blankly at her, he motioned for her to sit in the booth. Why he did it he'd never know. He should have told her to go to hell. He should have simply gotten up and walked away. They sat in the booth, neither one of them speaking. She must have sensed he wasn't going to talk first so she did. "Johnny…I didn't mean what I said. I panicked and…I don't want to leave you." She looked expectantly at him and all he felt was confusion. "Panicked? From what?" Taking a deep breath she fidgeted with a ring on her index finger. "The injured fireman. Stan McDonald." Setting the now empty glass down on the table Gage was still lost. "What about him? Is he an ex-boyfriend or somethin'?" Now Samantha looked confused. "No. No he's not. When you brought him in…all I could think of…what if that were you? I thought that if I broke it off, I wouldn't have to deal with it. Maybe it being you. All day long…all I could think of is not being able to be with you. That was worse." Wrapping his hands around the empty glass, he looked at the ice cubes, wondering if he should believe her. His heart had been played with over and over again. But what if she was telling him the truth? What if she loved him enough to finally be the one person he could depend on? The one person he could make a life with. Wiping a hand across his face, he went to stand only to flop back in the booth. She looked at him, then at the glass. "How many of those have you had?" "I dunno'. Three…four." Shaking her head, she frowned. "Johnny, you know drinking isn't the answer." He gave her a pained look. "It was this time." Reaching her hands across the table, she clasped his hands tightly. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." She gave him a weak smile and squeezed his hands. "Do you want to go home? I can drive." He looked at her again, knowing that what he was about to say would decide how things would go between them. "Only if you stay." Squeezing his hands tighter, she smiled and nodded her head yes. Slowly pulling his hands from hers, he rose unsteadily to his feet. She came around and held him by the arm as he walked past the bar. The bartender nodded at him, giving him a smile as they headed out of the building and into the balmy night air. Stumbling once he gave her an apologetic smile before he climbed into her car. They were going home. His smile grew wider at the thought. Their home. |