Page 25 of Up All Night
“Is it?” Denver paused near a huge stump, weathered and beaten.
“Maybe.” Bending, I ran a hand over the rough wood. Once upon a time, the whole forest had been full of trees wider than my mom’s dining room table with all the leaves added in. “Okay, no. It’s not.” Denver’s quiet steadiness and us being the only humans for miles around made me way more truthful. “Because I can still smell it. See it. Hear it.”
Denver didn’t say anything, only nodded as he regarded me with watchful eyes.
“And usually, I’m good at washing it all down the drain, leaving it behind after a hard shift.” I tried to sound resigned, maybe echo a bit of Denver’s steadiness. But then he touched me. A hand on my upper arm. And I broke. “I did my best, like the guys said at breakfast. I did my best, and that used to be good enough for me to sleep. Move on to the next call.”
“But something changed.” Denver didn’t ask as much as deduced the truth, which made it far easier to continue.
“Declan got a motorbike.” I closed my eyes, seeing my kid back in the tween years, all gangly elbows and knees and unbridled enthusiasm. He had my red hair and Maxine’s intelligent eyes and long limbs. “We took him to a motocross race up north of Seattle the year he turned ten. Day trip. Buddy from the firehouse knew someone racing. Never thought Declan would come away with his passion in life, but that’s kids for you.”
“Yep.” Denver moved to sit on the stump. “And now he races?”
“He does.” I sat beside Denver, feeling like I’d removed two hundred and fifty pounds of gear. “And he’s damn good at it. Turned pro a little after he was seventeen, racked up the points, made it into the big races in record time.”
“But you worry.”
“Of course I do.” I bit my lip, intending to leave it at that, but the words tumbled out anyway. “But not so much about Declan racing—they’ve often got medics standing by, and he’s got all the latest safety gear. No, I worry about the after-parties, the hard living, the collection of motorcycles, and his fearless disregard for the laws of physics and speed limits.”
“A lot of people party hard in their early twenties and make it through.” Denver’s tone was pragmatic but not unkind. “I’m sure that’s not what a dad wants to hear though. You want him safe.”
“Exactly. And the thing is, he’s a great rider.” Despite the heaviness of the topic, I smiled as I often did when Declan’s name came up. In my head, he was three, racing cars across the carpet, then eleven on his first dirt bike, then fourteen, hoisting an amateur trophy, and now, old enough to share a beer and a laugh with, and still my kid. “Declan is a total natural like all the press says about him. But even the best riders in the world don’t stand a chance against motor vehicles that don’t care about sharing the road.”
“Nope. Lost a good friend in high school to a collision like that.” Denver put his hand on my thigh. Not a pat precisely, but there, holding on. “A drummer on one of our tours lost a brother to a motorcycle crash, and I worked a few seasons at a resort with a dude who barely survived an accident of his own. Scary stuff.”
“You don’t ride?” Given Denver’s freewheeling nature, I might have assumed he’d have a Harley or two in his past, but he shook his head.
“I love adrenaline, but I don’t have…” He trailed off, mouth twisting.
“A death wish. It’s okay. That’s the opinion a lot of people have.” Hell, I’d had it myself for years. I stared off down the valley toward the creek Denver had mentioned. “But riders like Declan love it. The risk is worth it to him. Not to me, his dad, but he gets something out of riding that I’ve come to accept I’m not going to understand.”
“That’s a good perspective.” Denver squeezed my leg. “We’re not always going to understand what another person needs and why.” He said the words matter-of-fact, like he wasn’t already damn good at knowing what I needed, like this drive and walk. “Hell, most of us don’t understand that about ourselves.”
My chest filled with too much oxygen, too fast, too many feelings to hold, too much of a perfect moment to last. But it was here, and so were we, and I wasn’t going to let the moment pass. I leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to Denver’s surprised mouth, swallowing his gasp, then clinging to his shoulder when he deepened the kiss. Long and lingering, but not precisely sexual. Or rather, not only sexual. More soothing, a layer of affection I hadn’t expected. I returned his gasp as a shudder raced through me.
“What was that?” Denver pulled away slightly but kept an arm slung around my shoulders.
“I needed it,” I said simply.
“Good.” Denver gave a sharp nod like that was ample reason. I inhaled deeply, tasting not only the spring air but also acceptance. As with the sex, it was okay to be a little needy and clingy with him, to ask for things I might not with others.
“Most days, I accept that Declan’s going to take risks I don’t agree with. And then, last night, we got called to a crash. A pickup truck and a biker tangoed on the interstate. Both lost, but the biker got the worst of it.”
“Fuck.” Denver whistled low and squeezed my shoulder.
“We were first on the scene before the ambulance unit. We did what we could.Idid what I could.” I tried to stick to the facts, not share too many gory details, but it was all too easy to relive the scene, fresh adrenaline surging through me. But Denver held me close, steadying me.
“And you kept seeing your boy.”
“Yeah.” My breath whooshed out of me. Denver got it. “And now that John, Eric’s kid, is learning to drive, I saw him in the kid in the pickup too. It’s so damn easy to get distracted as a young driver. And yeah, the whole time we were working on the motorcycle rider, I kept seeing Declan. Hearing him. Similar age. Similar build. Similar fearlessness.”
“Did you call him?” Denver asked.
“Who? The patient?”
“No, your son. Declan.” Denver kept his voice calm amid my confusion. “Did you call him after?”
“Why would I?” I wasn’t being flip or defensive. It had honestly never occurred to me to call anyone after a hard shift. Maxine had preferred not to hear about it, and I had my first responder buddies to vent to. Declan might be an adult now, but he was still my kid, and I wanted to protect him from the ugly side of my job. “He doesn’t need to hear all my worries or that I had a bad shift or any of that. He’s young and living his best life.”