Daring Devotion by Elaine Overton Page B

his head. This was always the hardest part of the job. Firefighters and cops used confidence and self-assuredness like a shield and sword. What the average citizen saw as cocky arrogance, he understood was a necessity to get the job done. Insecure, self-doubting people did not run into burning buildings or face armed criminals. No, these men and women needed to believe in their own indestructibility.
    Before he’d actually met the man, Chet had heard of Big Cal Brown through rumors of his heroics. He knew that for someone like Cal his diagnosis would be especially hard to accept. He could only hope the man would eventually accept the inevitable. In order to become the fireman he once was, he would have to accept professional help.

Chapter 11
    A ndrea looked at her watch again before zipping up her overnight tote and setting it on the floor near the door. She hadn’t heard from Cal all morning, and his appointment with the department psychiatrist had ended three hours ago. She headed back into the bedroom and picked up the phone on her bedside table. She dialed his cell phone once more, but still there was no answer.
    It was getting late, and she was getting worried. They were supposed to be on the road headed north to Mackinaw Island for the weekend two hours ago, and she was certain Cal remembered the time they agreed on. She picked up the phone to call the firehouse, thinking maybe he’d stopped by there to see the guys on his way back and lost track of the time. She’d dialed the first four digits when she heard a key in the front door lock.
    She hurried back into the living room, where she saw Cal had already picked up two of the three bags sitting by the front entrance, and was heading back out the door with them.
    She grabbed her purse off the dinette table and followed him out. “Where were you?”
    He glanced back over his shoulder at her as he circled the vehicle. “Where I was supposed to be, down at mental, seeing the shrink.”
    Andrea stopped dead in her tracks hearing the gruff tone of his voice. This wasn’t the Hey, baby, let’s get on the road and have some fun voice. No, this was the Leave me the hell alone voice.
    In the beginning of their relationship, that voice had stopped her in her tracks more than once. Growing up with Andrew Chenault, she had good reason to be wary. But now, she knew no matter how intimidating Cal may be in voice and form, he would never hurt her.
    â€œSo…what happened?” She tossed her handbag on the front passenger seat through the partially opened window and walked around to the back of the truck where Cal was lowering the rear gate.
    â€œHe obviously doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” he announced casually, as he began loading their suitcases onto the bed of the truck. “He said I have PTSD.”
    Andrea felt something like a chill on the wind behind the acronym. After a year of listening to firehouse conversations, she knew PTSD was like a death sentence to a firefighter. “What did you say?”
    â€œJust what I told you, he obviously doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
    â€œCal, he had to be using some kind of insight. The man has had years of professional training. I’m sure he wouldn’t just make a declaration like that unless he had something to base it on. I know you’re not the only firefighter he’s ever diagnosed with this.”
    Cal slammed the gate shut and spun around. “You sure as hell are eager to agree with him! Why don’t you go down there and help him write the report. I’m sure he could use your input regarding the nightmares.” With that sarcastic statement, Cal stormed back into the house.
    Andrea waited for her heart to stop pounding. She had to tread lightly here. He was hurting and one wrong word would cause him to set in his heels against the idea that he may have post traumatic stress disorder.
    When she entered the